Waiting for reagents

Although we can perform most laboratory tests that we need in our own facilities at work, we sometimes send samples for testing at other laboratories in Kigali. These samples frequently go to the National Reference Laboratory (NRL). Lately, though, we've realized that we've been waiting an awfully long time to receive our results from NRL. When we looked into why this was happening, we found out that testing has been delayed at the National Reference Laboratory because they've been waiting for reagents needed for the testing since September. That's right, the National Reference Laboratory (emphasis on the first two words in the name) hasn't been able to do testing because they haven't been able to replace supplies they ran out of six months ago. Sometimes things are just a little ridiculous around here.

Making water

The most frequently needed task in my house always seems to be "making water." Any water from the tap has to be boiled to kill any microorganisms that might cause disease before it is drinkable, so several times a day, I have to "make water." It's not particularly difficult since it just involves filling a pot with water, putting it on the stove to boil, letting it cool and then transferring it to one of two five liter plastic bottles, but it's a constant process. I feel like I'm always boiling a pot of water right before bed, when I first wake up in the morning and any time I come home during the day. Whatever hassle it may be though, it's certainly better than swallowing any parasite that might be living in the water otherwise.

Gardening update

Now that my luck with tulips has turned bad, I'm placing all my gardening hope in my vegetables. Some are still doing better than others, but those that are doing well - radishes, carrots, zucchini and sqash, cabbage and spinach - seem to be doing really well. Hopefully I'll have better luck than I did with the tulips and these plants will continue to grow and produce vegetables.

African skin

When clouds finally covered the sky this afternoon, I glanced down at my skin and noticed that I had strong reason to give thanks for the shade. After a full day in the sun wandering through the Nyamirambo market yesterday and another at the funeral today, I'm afraid my pale, white skin has turned a bright red. I commented on my thankfulness to three of my coworkers who were walking with me back to the vehicle, pointing out the color of my neck, and one responded with "ooo" while another asked if I hadn't used "that lotion" (suncreen, which of course I had forgotten). The third told me my skin had not yet become African. I laughed at the thought, and he explained that if I stayed in Rwanda longer, my skin would become African. Curious, I asked him if my skin would become the color of his, to which he responded "no no no!", and I realized he just meant my skin would darken. He pointed to my neck as an example of how dark I was becoming. What I didn't have the heart or energy to explain was that in just a couple more days, the red on my neck will peel away and I would be left with skin even paler than it was before the weekend. I'm not sure this muzungu will ever have African skin.

Mourning and burial

On Wednesday, around noon, I received word that the father of one of my coworkers had passed away. I shared the news with the other employees in my department and asked what we ought to do. The immediate answer was that we should go to the family's home, which was understandable to me, until they said we should go immediately after work. I was amazed that we would go so soon, just barely five hours after the death, but trusted my Rwandan coworkers' judgement, since they would of course understand cultural practices better than I would.

We left the office together around 5:00 and, three mini-buses later, we arrived at my coworker's home. In the front yard, there were approximately a dozen brightly-colored, plastic chairs. We walked in and exchanged handshakes, kisses and greetings with others who had gathered before taking seat in the yard. We sat there, making small talk, until, one at a time, members of the family came out to greet us. We stayed at the house for just an hour or an hour and a half.

Afterwards, as we returned to town, one of my coworkers explained to me the Rwandan customs of mourning. The official mourning period after a death lasts for eight days. During these days, the family of the person who has passed away passes their time outdoors with the spirit of their loved one. Visitors will come to the house throughout the eight days to give their condolences and visit with the family. It is for this reason that the plastic chairs were arranged in my coworker's yard. In the evenings, they will build a fire in the yard for warmth and light. At any time during the eight days, the body of the deceased can be buried.

The funeral and burial for my coworker's father was scheduled for today. I met several of my coworkers at 11:00 in the morning and together we went to the church where mass was to be held. When we arrived, the church was completely filled and several dozen people had already gathered outside on benches along the edge of the building and in the shade of a large tree. I took a seat on one of the benches as more people continued to arrive. I have no idea how many people were inside the church, but outside we were nearly a hundred. The entire service was conducted in Kinyarwanda, so I have very little idea what was said. It seemed though that the first portion of the service was a traditional mass, which was followed by a time when family members - the wife, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters - stood to speak about the deceased. All in all, the service lasted three hours, during which those of us outside were constantly rearranging ourselves and our benches to stay as much out of the sun as possible.

After the service at the church, we all proceeded to the cemetery. There a tent was set up with chairs for the family next to the gravesite, and the rest of us gathered around. The service continued here, again in Kinyarwanda, with prayers and songs for almost another two hours. After the body had been lowered into the ground, we continued to a nearby restaurant/hotel, where we spoke to the family and were served bottles of Fanta and Coke. Finally, around 5:00 in the afternoon, I returned to my house.

Overall, the proceedings of the day weren't much different from those in the States; I was actually quite surprised by how similar the two are. Really the only unexpected thing in the day was the total amount of time consumed by the services, though, having spent half a year in Rwanda now, I shouldn't have even that surprised as everything here seems to last longer than I would expect.