So now you know about the walls. And I briefly mentioned the guards. But since we are about to move into our own place, now it's time to delve into this mysterious and confusing subject.
Everyone has a guard. Almost everyone, at least. Like the walls, you find them at almost every private house, business, NGO, school, or restaurant.
But the guard thing is so f.ing WEIRD, and no one seems to talk about it. Maybe no one else thinks it's weird??? But here is the deal...
We are house-sitting right now. We are house-sitting in the land of plenty. Our house has 24 hour guards, a full time housekeeper, a full time cook, and 2 (maybe 3?) full time nannies when the family is home. That is an extremely strange situation for us, for so many reasons, but let me focus on the guards.
Imagine yourself preparing dinner. You finish cooking the pasta and veg on your outdoor stove, and are inside assembling your plate, your glass of wine, your water. Outside, (in the dark until you see him and turn on the light) your elderly guard is fumbling around, heating up the left over rice and beans the housekeeper made earlier in the day. You see each other through the window. I wave. I ponder inviting him in for dinner. This is not what you are supposed to do, and that would also be super weird. So I don't. When his food is finished heating, he takes it. I don't know where. Somewhere in the dark; into the chilly night. To eat on his own. Later, you hear him washing up. In the dark.
I don't know if the guards are supposed to stay awake all night or not. But they usually sleep, with a hoodie pulled tight around their heads, occasionally with a light sheet or blanket over them, sitting in a chair by the gate. Though this morning ours was laying across the garden furniture. We have a little "guard post" at our house - where they can sit, read, stay out of the rain, by the gate. The neighbors seem to have no such spot, and their guards seem to just lay on the grass outside their gate. So when we drive home at night, they invariably sit up in the light, hoodies tied around their faces, worried it might be their employer. Sometimes our guard seems to be canoodling, spooning with them. What do these guards do in the rainy season?
So there is the issue of feeling bad for the guard - because you are in your nice warm house cooking lovely food and eating in the light. And they are alone, cold, outside in the dark, eating their rice and beans. For some reason that seems heartbreakingly sad to me. OH and don't forget the issue of the separate bathroom, outside, for the staff. Which seems to invariably be kinda gross.
But maybe this is me pushing my Western ideals here. A job is a job? I'm quite sure the guard doesn't want to hang out with me. But should I be able to get used to ignoring him? I am the outsider. He is the norm. So should I follow his lead? Or try to push my idea of a more normal, acceptable employer/employee house staff relationship? What would that even look like here? Is it wrong to accept the norm here, and embrace and further this practice? Or is it wrong to stand up against it, and push my own ideals which come from a completely different, foreign, inapplicable society? When I feel sad about where a worker eats his dinner, am I patronizing him? Perhaps.
The other issue is privacy. There is none. The guard is always there - shuffling around watering plants, doing something at the kitchen, cleaning up the pool. Want to lay out topless? No such luck. Want to water the garden in your skimpy nightgown? Bad idea. Want to just have your own space and not share it with someone else 24 hours a day? Well, you can go inside. But they can still see you. And hear you. And you can still see them. And hear them. Want to sit at the outdoor table and do some work? Better be prepared to exchange kind words with the staff. (Oh, and the two staff that work inside the house all day, M-F? No escaping them!).
There is also the question of why you need a guard, since everyone in town claims Kigali is the safest place in all of Africa, and the large majority of people say it is actually safer than pretty much anywhere else they've lived. Also, the guards aren't armed, so I'm very confused about what he's actually supposed to do if three guys with machetes come to gate looking to rob the place. How would he stop them? Maybe he could yell to the other guards? Who are also unarmed? I just don't get it. Some people say it's actually just an employment scheme - that as a muzungu, you're just expected to hire help. Our friends say that people stop by their house every week asking for a job, doing anything, for extremely low pay. So you're supposed to hire staff and, rather than feeling like a bourgeois colonialist, you're supposed to feel good that you're providing a stable job for someone. But I still feel like a bourgey colonialist, and I'm certainly not sure that depending on expats and wealthy locals to employ house staff is the best plan for the economic development of a nation.
No one else here seems to find this as bizarre or awkward as I do. But we have been greatly struggling with whether or not we should get a guard for our new house. It's a tiny one bedroom, with good, locking metal shutters, but very easy to climb the walls and get onto the property. We are really really tired of being around staff. And I really, really want to be able to enjoy our huge garden without chatting with the guard, or being stared at by him, or feeling bad that it is cold and he is outside by himself.
When we ask about safety, we, as usual, hear conflicting views. Some say a guard is absolutely necessary. If you don't have one, everyone will know, and it's just inviting a robbery to happen. Others say more often than not, a guard is the one involved when a robbery occurs. A very select few say the whole thing is hogwash and just an employment scheme, but then most of these same people also say you'll probably get robbed if you don't have one. :/ And, it sounds like most of the robberies that happen involve "casing", or someone following you so they'll know exactly when you can be expected to be home or away. We don't really have anything to steal except our laptops, which are often with us. But then again, an employee at the farm I volunteer at, who makes $1.50/day and basically owns nothing, was broken into and the few things and pieces of clothing he had put aside for their expected baby got stolen. Along with everything else.
So, this is where we stand. Suggestions? We are leaning toward 24 guards. We need help cutting the grass. And I really don't want to get robbed. My laptop may be all I have, but IT IS ALL I HAVE! I do NOT want to lose it. And being broken into would probably make me feel extra uncomfortable in a place I am still getting used to. So I guess I will have to tell our guard to have fun with the other guards while we are home - snuggle, spoon, listen to the radio together, but please don't watch me read or garden. And please don't wash my car (another of the typical guard duties. Daily car washing, despite a severe water shortage!!!?!?).
I wish I didn't have to consider these questions and contradictions. But they are part of life here. Driving an SUV, having a guard, living in a walled compound, eating in a restaurant in Central Africa that is only filled with other white guests. You can see from my posts, these are things I'm constantly thinking about. Struggling with. Making me uncomfortable. But this is life in Africa. It is not easy, and feeling anything but out of place here is no easy task.
But I guess it's also what makes interesting. And challenging. I can't ignore these questions that arise every day. But I also can't seem to make sense of them. And in a way, that's what's best about being here...
But it's also what's worst.
Please share your thoughts.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
In the Land of a Thousand Walls
I live in a walled city. But not the cute, ancient kind you find in stony, charming, European cities, where a crumbling wall surrounds the quaint village with cobblestone streets, and you can walk through tiny alleys lined with gorgeous, tiny stone houses with colorful shutters and flowers in the window box.
No, my walls don't surround this hilly city, but rather they surround every house, restaurant, and business here. So driving down the street, or walking around your neighborhood, all you see is walls and walls and walls. You can wonder and wonder about what is inside there - what kind of gorgeous abode, what kind of perfectly manicured garden, or interesting vegetables may be growing in the yard, or cute dogs laying in the driveway, or nice family enjoying a barbeque. You can wonder, but you will never know.
Fortunately, Kigali is also a city of hills, so while up close all you can see is walls - there are also sweeping views of the opposite hills, with their walled compounds and pretty gardens visible from a distance. There are also stark contrasts (as Africa is riddled with) like bougainvilla weaving in and out of barbed wire, avocados dropping on glass shard covered walls.
The greatest contrast ot all, and one of the things I am most puzzled about in Kigali, is the number of walled compounds compared to the number of "normal" houses that regular Rwandans live in. I don't know how to be p.c. about this - I'm brand new here and basically understand nothing. But these walled compounds are everywhere, literally covering - idk- maybe 80+ percent of the city? At least that's how it appears. Where do the regular folk live??? And who lives in all the mansions????
Kigali is expensive, in so many ways. Rent ranges anywhere from $400-$6000+ (at least that's the range I've found. Perhaps if your more of a veteran, or know where to look, you could find better?). But usually the lowest you see advertised for a self contained house is $600. We consider ourselves extremely lucky to have found a tiny one bedroom house for $420 (more on that when we move in...). I don't know what the average salary is in Kigali, but I know it ain't enough to afford $400+ in rent, plus other expenses.
Aside from the walled compounds, there are also little settlements of more traditional houses - mostly made of cement, that are snuggled into hillsides and valleys. But they seem to be few and far between, and I just don't understand how there's enough housing for everyone who makes a regular salary, and how regular Rwandans aren't infuriated that such a vast amount of their land is taken up by these massive compounds. All the expats live in compounds (with poorer, younger, NGO workers and volunteers sharing a big house with a bunch of roommates - usually $400-$700/room, and with better paid professionals living in fancy mansions all to themselves and their families). But there are way more compounds than expats, which indicates there are many well-off Rwandans, which is great. But are there that many?
 |
| A stinky pic of the more normal houses...will get a better one. |
Where do all the moto drivers live? The restaurant workers? The shop employees? The guards (who make about $50-$100/month)? The housekeepers and nannies (same salary)? The many, many unemployed? It's a mystery.
I have never lived somewhere like this before - being separated from my neighbors by walls. And a guard at every house. I do not like it very much. Actually, I don't like it at all. But we must build community in other ways - by being friendly with the shopkeeper, by smiling on your evening walk, and.... other ideas? This is something I am struggling with, but hope to learn.
It makes me miss Derrick, my neighbor in Bed-Stuy, who so often was sitting on his stoop with various friends, enjoying a smoke or a beer. He'd bitch about work (installing A/Cs), or his back (he threw it out), while I told him about teaching, or we joked about Cat (who he claimed was definitely keeping the rodent population down in his building). Or the other neighbors - the opera singer, his wife, and two cute kids, who would always ask about the chickens. It makes me miss my neighbors in Belize and Thailand, who were a rather intimate part of my life - chosen or not. So often, I'd wished for isolation and disliked sharing the necessary pleasantries with neighbors when I was exhausted coming home from work. Now, I crave them.
It makes me miss Derrick, my neighbor in Bed-Stuy, who so often was sitting on his stoop with various friends, enjoying a smoke or a beer. He'd bitch about work (installing A/Cs), or his back (he threw it out), while I told him about teaching, or we joked about Cat (who he claimed was definitely keeping the rodent population down in his building). Or the other neighbors - the opera singer, his wife, and two cute kids, who would always ask about the chickens. It makes me miss my neighbors in Belize and Thailand, who were a rather intimate part of my life - chosen or not. So often, I'd wished for isolation and disliked sharing the necessary pleasantries with neighbors when I was exhausted coming home from work. Now, I crave them.
We will also soon be moving into our own walled compound, but we hope to meet some of our neighbors. Every last Saturday of the month here is "umuganda". Which is when everything shuts down, and everyone is required to work with their neighbors on a common task - cleaning up, helping build someone's house, cutting back plants, etc. We haven't participated yet (it's not expected of foreigners) but hope to in our new neighborhood, in hopes of sharing something common, of working together, of feeling something other than isolated. Behind a wall.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Me and my SUV
That's right. I am now the unproud owner of a lean, mean, green, somewhat dorky Rav 4, and I drive it everywhere.
It actually belongs to me and Alex, but since he was always working, I was the one who dealt with all the paperwork, the offices, the stamps, and so my name is on the title. It is, BY FAR, the most expensive thing I have ever owned - by a factor of at least 3 (probably more).
I mentioned how hard it is to get around here, and how we're advised not to take motos anywhere (and I guess I can say, having been here 6 weeks now, I have seen at least one major moto accident and several minor ones), and since we're moving to the top of a gigantic mountain that is very far from normal transport options, we pretty much had to buy one. I have very, very mixed feelings.
Having a car definitely makes things easier. We have some more freedom, and there is less stress when we have to get something done, and it's definitely better when I have to be at work at 7.15 a.m. But I can't begin to tell you how weird it feels to drive around Africa in my big SUV that I bought (we bought) with all our spare cash. It's just kind of....ick. And so not what I'm used to.
That said, I'm happy we have it, as going anywhere (especially together) before was a total nightmare.
We had a hard time deciding if we really needed an SUV, or could get around in a sedan. The majority of roads here are paved, and great. But there are many that are unpaved, and have foot deep ruts throughout them. And now that I've seen a pickup truck get stuck for 20 minutes in our soon-to-be driveway, I'm pretty happy we splurged. The last few hundred meters to the house we are moving into are.....well....quite something. And I'm sure I'll have some very exciting rainy season adventures to share here.
There is much, MUCH information I could share here about buying a car in Kigali - but I fear the details will bore too many of you. Suffice to say the office visits were impressively quick (though I did have to go back three times), I did pay a 5,000 rwf bribe (a bit under $10) - but it saved us a day, I did spend many, many hours of my life preparing to buy said car, and, supposedly, we found a good deal.
We were hoping to buy something with a bit more style - like an old school, beat up range rover or land cruiser. But apparently they cost 3 times as much. And we pretty much had to get a Toyota, because apparently it can take months to get parts for a Suzuki, Mitsubishi, Nissan, etc. I definitely wanted to play it safe when it comes to repairs. Rav 4s are kinda lame, but with 4wd, the Toyota reputation, and the fact that 1/3 people have them makes it the obvious choice.
Another fun fact about our SUV is that we're spending about $170 a month in gas, to go absolutely no where except around town.
!!!!!!????!?!?!?!??!?!?!???!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?
Holy crappers. I don't think I would have bought the SUV if I had known that. MAJOR BUMMER. Alex says our lives are worth it. I'm still unsure.
So let's play a game....
Since many people are apparently reading this blog, but no one is commenting on it, let me entice you.
It's a 1999 Rav 4, with supposedly 84,000 miles (which has obviously been doctored but what can you do?), with mechanic's approval, working a/c, and decent stereo.
Anyone want to wager a guess on the price??? Winner gets bragging rights...
(Hint: don't forget we're in RWANDA!)
It actually belongs to me and Alex, but since he was always working, I was the one who dealt with all the paperwork, the offices, the stamps, and so my name is on the title. It is, BY FAR, the most expensive thing I have ever owned - by a factor of at least 3 (probably more).
I mentioned how hard it is to get around here, and how we're advised not to take motos anywhere (and I guess I can say, having been here 6 weeks now, I have seen at least one major moto accident and several minor ones), and since we're moving to the top of a gigantic mountain that is very far from normal transport options, we pretty much had to buy one. I have very, very mixed feelings.
Having a car definitely makes things easier. We have some more freedom, and there is less stress when we have to get something done, and it's definitely better when I have to be at work at 7.15 a.m. But I can't begin to tell you how weird it feels to drive around Africa in my big SUV that I bought (we bought) with all our spare cash. It's just kind of....ick. And so not what I'm used to.
That said, I'm happy we have it, as going anywhere (especially together) before was a total nightmare.
We had a hard time deciding if we really needed an SUV, or could get around in a sedan. The majority of roads here are paved, and great. But there are many that are unpaved, and have foot deep ruts throughout them. And now that I've seen a pickup truck get stuck for 20 minutes in our soon-to-be driveway, I'm pretty happy we splurged. The last few hundred meters to the house we are moving into are.....well....quite something. And I'm sure I'll have some very exciting rainy season adventures to share here.
 |
| mechanical inspection |
 |
| Our hot new ride. |
 |
| Most expensive thing I've ever owned. |
There is much, MUCH information I could share here about buying a car in Kigali - but I fear the details will bore too many of you. Suffice to say the office visits were impressively quick (though I did have to go back three times), I did pay a 5,000 rwf bribe (a bit under $10) - but it saved us a day, I did spend many, many hours of my life preparing to buy said car, and, supposedly, we found a good deal.
We were hoping to buy something with a bit more style - like an old school, beat up range rover or land cruiser. But apparently they cost 3 times as much. And we pretty much had to get a Toyota, because apparently it can take months to get parts for a Suzuki, Mitsubishi, Nissan, etc. I definitely wanted to play it safe when it comes to repairs. Rav 4s are kinda lame, but with 4wd, the Toyota reputation, and the fact that 1/3 people have them makes it the obvious choice.
Another fun fact about our SUV is that we're spending about $170 a month in gas, to go absolutely no where except around town.
!!!!!!????!?!?!?!??!?!?!???!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?
Holy crappers. I don't think I would have bought the SUV if I had known that. MAJOR BUMMER. Alex says our lives are worth it. I'm still unsure.
So let's play a game....
Since many people are apparently reading this blog, but no one is commenting on it, let me entice you.
It's a 1999 Rav 4, with supposedly 84,000 miles (which has obviously been doctored but what can you do?), with mechanic's approval, working a/c, and decent stereo.
Anyone want to wager a guess on the price??? Winner gets bragging rights...
(Hint: don't forget we're in RWANDA!)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
No addresses. No street names. No English. Seriously.
(Written mid-July)
How do you get around Kigali??? This is an excellent question. It is no easy task.
Kigali is relatively small, with it taking probably 20-30 minutes max to go from one extreme end of the city to the other by car or motorbike. Most places are 10-15 minutes apart. But the city is extremely spread out - laying over several different hills, so you have to take wheels most places you go. It is extremely difficult to get orientated here, as there are basically no straight roads, no roads with names on them, no addresses, and the neighborhoods/hills (each hill is a different neighborhood) have names like "Kimihurura", "Kicukiro" "Kibagaba" "Nyamirambo" and "Nyarutarama". For real.
When my friend Elli came to visit she said the city roads basically seemed like one big spaghetti noodle to her - and it was a very accurate description. Just check out Kigali on google maps to see for yourself.
The only way to get around Kigali is to use landmarks. So directions sound something like this -
"Take the airport road and turn left at RDB towards the MTN center. Make a left on the golf course road. Pass, but don't take, the stone road towards the Manor hotel. Our road is the 3rd dirt road on the left. We are the 2nd dark blue gate on the right".
God help you if you don't know what or where the fuck the RDB is (the Rwandan Development Board - just a random big office building that everyone knows because you have to to get around), or if it's not on google maps. There is no way to get where you are going. And if you don't know the RDB, or the MTN, or the Manor hotel? Good luck, sucka!!! Welcome to my first few weeks in Kigali - when I was expected to be house hunting and car searching and going to job interviews. What fun!
Here are some actual directions I got to a job interview site:
Head towards the airport, then turn left at the road that would take you east to Akagera. A couple minutes down the road you will see La Palisse hotel on your left (you'll see the sign for it; the hotel itself is down the hill a bit below the road). About 5 minutes past La Palisse, there's an Engen station on your left. You'll also see a big sign for "Les Enfants de Dieu." This is bus/taxi stop #15, called "Ichumi na Gatano."
Take a left up that dirt road. The trip is about 10-15 up the road, just keep going straight. The only part where "straight" might be confusing is about half-way up when you see a Ndera Psychiatric Hospital sign. The hospital is on your right. Do not go up that hill.
You'll pass Rubungo Health Center and a few shops. Eventually the road will come to a "T." Turn left at the "T" and then immediately turn right up the hill. This is "Musave." Our office is the 3rd or 4th house on the left, up the hill.
Shockingly, I got lost.
Until a week ago, we didn't have a car. This means the only way to get around (without spending a small fortune on taxis) is to take a "moto" - or a motorcycle taxi. When we got here, the first thing we heard from many many people was to absolutely not ride any motos. (Wait what?? I rode these all over East Africa last time I was here - including a 5 hour trip through the Ugandan rainforest on the worst road I've even been on!). Apparently they are incredibly dangerous (460+ dead last year in moto accidents in Kigali alone). Rwanda has no triage units, and generally terrible hospitals, so you do not want to get in a serious accident of any kind. However, what nobody mentions is that motos are the ONLY way to get around this town (unless you are loaded). Except for the buses - which are cheap and pretty decent - but people, please. I don't know where the fuck I am or where the fuck I'm going 90% of the time, so it will be some time before I jump on a bus.
Because there are no street names here, and no maps, it is basically impossible to tell anyone where you need to go. Thank GOD for google maps, because without it I would be completely and utterly screwed. Anytime I need to go somewhere, I basically stare at google maps for 30 minutes, draw a mini-map of my destination area in my notebook, pick a few landmarks that I hope a moto driver might know, and feel a lot of anxiety. Then I head out to the street. On any main street you can wave down a moto - they are everywhere, all the time. But very few speak English. And very few seem to understand my French. I usually have to go through 3-5 of them before I find one who seems to actually understand where I need to go. (I tell them the landmark, and the neighborhood the landmark is in. And while you're talking to one 3 others will stop by just in case you don't like the original guy or his price. Usually anyone with English skills wins, in my case). Once I've chosen a driver, I climb on and say "buhoro buhoro" and "buhoro chanay!", which means "Slowly! Very slowly!", and which also means "please please don't fucking kill me right now". Then they smile and off we go.
Here is a little story of what house hunting is like in Kigali - with no car and no real understanding of the city after two weeks.
I was headed to see a cheap room in a shared house. Alex was working, of course, so I took a moto towards the US Embassy - the only landmark I had to go off in my directions. I got off the bike where the paved road ended and followed my little hand drawn map and ridiculous directions ("below the mosque") - when there was an entire neighborhood below the fucking mosque.
I went to the street "below the mosque" and walked around a bit looking for the "3rd driveway on the left, green gate, before the incomplete house". I tried a few different streets when I didn't see anything like that. But there were just little local style mud and cement houses everywhere - no place a muzungu (foreigner) would rent a room in the big house that was described. All the dusty little kids ran around shouting "Ello!! Ello!" and "Bye" and "Bonjooo!" and "Good moaning!" (even though it was 5 pm). It's amazing how kids here continue to be so passionately delighted every time they see a white person.
So finally I went back to the other roads that were in the opposite direction of the mosque and found the big fancy houses with the gates. But there were four different long dirt streets, and almost no green gates, and definitely no green gates that were the 3rd driveway on the left! Or anything close to it.
There was also a pack of 4 roaming soldiers, armed with massive guns, that I was beginning to pass over and over. Which was awkward. I was trying to avoid passing them a 5th time, but I couldn't, and luckily when I did one actually said "hello". (I am intimidated by the soldiers here - there are many - and I don't know the rules. Are you supposed to ingore them, avoid eye contact, smile, or say hello? No idea). In a combo of broken French and English the soldier asked wtf I was doing. I explained that I was trying to find a house but had no idea where it was, to which he replied "I wanted to help you get where you're going but you don't know where you're going!". So I tried to have him call the lady showing the house, but we discovered I had no more credit on my phone. So then the four armed soldiers escorted me around the streets asking people where we could buy phone credit. Then they escorted me to the little store in the area of tiny mud and cement houses where I bought some credit. But I forgot how to put it on my phone so the soldier had to do it. And all the people were staring. Everyone in Rwanda just stares and stares and stares. Me, four armed soldiers, about six dusty, snotty African smiling kids shouting "Bye!" "Ello!" "Bonjoo!" standing in the middle of a pack of staring Rwandas of all ages. One of the soldiers calling the lady on my phone. What fun!
I desperately wanted to take a picture but was scared of how everyone would react. I'll always regret not taking one.
He hung up and implied, in a variety of languages, that he had no idea where the house was and also implied that I was in the completely wrong neighborhood. But then some other random guy who had been watching the spectacle came over and somehow seemed to know exactly where we were supposed to go, and, five minutes later, we were at the house. (Which is one I had walked by and considered calling to see if it was the one, but there was no incomplete house on the same block, and it was on the wrong side of the road).
The room was not lovely, but not awful. But most importantly they said "no couples allowed". Should've asked about that before this 2 hour outing...
So then I was off towards home. Repeat motorbike fiasco.
Life in Kigali. For now....
(Please tell me it gets easier?)
How do you get around Kigali??? This is an excellent question. It is no easy task.
Kigali is relatively small, with it taking probably 20-30 minutes max to go from one extreme end of the city to the other by car or motorbike. Most places are 10-15 minutes apart. But the city is extremely spread out - laying over several different hills, so you have to take wheels most places you go. It is extremely difficult to get orientated here, as there are basically no straight roads, no roads with names on them, no addresses, and the neighborhoods/hills (each hill is a different neighborhood) have names like "Kimihurura", "Kicukiro" "Kibagaba" "Nyamirambo" and "Nyarutarama". For real.
When my friend Elli came to visit she said the city roads basically seemed like one big spaghetti noodle to her - and it was a very accurate description. Just check out Kigali on google maps to see for yourself.
The only way to get around Kigali is to use landmarks. So directions sound something like this -
"Take the airport road and turn left at RDB towards the MTN center. Make a left on the golf course road. Pass, but don't take, the stone road towards the Manor hotel. Our road is the 3rd dirt road on the left. We are the 2nd dark blue gate on the right".
God help you if you don't know what or where the fuck the RDB is (the Rwandan Development Board - just a random big office building that everyone knows because you have to to get around), or if it's not on google maps. There is no way to get where you are going. And if you don't know the RDB, or the MTN, or the Manor hotel? Good luck, sucka!!! Welcome to my first few weeks in Kigali - when I was expected to be house hunting and car searching and going to job interviews. What fun!
Here are some actual directions I got to a job interview site:
Head towards the airport, then turn left at the road that would take you east to Akagera. A couple minutes down the road you will see La Palisse hotel on your left (you'll see the sign for it; the hotel itself is down the hill a bit below the road). About 5 minutes past La Palisse, there's an Engen station on your left. You'll also see a big sign for "Les Enfants de Dieu." This is bus/taxi stop #15, called "Ichumi na Gatano."
Take a left up that dirt road. The trip is about 10-15 up the road, just keep going straight. The only part where "straight" might be confusing is about half-way up when you see a Ndera Psychiatric Hospital sign. The hospital is on your right. Do not go up that hill.
You'll pass Rubungo Health Center and a few shops. Eventually the road will come to a "T." Turn left at the "T" and then immediately turn right up the hill. This is "Musave." Our office is the 3rd or 4th house on the left, up the hill.
Shockingly, I got lost.
Until a week ago, we didn't have a car. This means the only way to get around (without spending a small fortune on taxis) is to take a "moto" - or a motorcycle taxi. When we got here, the first thing we heard from many many people was to absolutely not ride any motos. (Wait what?? I rode these all over East Africa last time I was here - including a 5 hour trip through the Ugandan rainforest on the worst road I've even been on!). Apparently they are incredibly dangerous (460+ dead last year in moto accidents in Kigali alone). Rwanda has no triage units, and generally terrible hospitals, so you do not want to get in a serious accident of any kind. However, what nobody mentions is that motos are the ONLY way to get around this town (unless you are loaded). Except for the buses - which are cheap and pretty decent - but people, please. I don't know where the fuck I am or where the fuck I'm going 90% of the time, so it will be some time before I jump on a bus.
Because there are no street names here, and no maps, it is basically impossible to tell anyone where you need to go. Thank GOD for google maps, because without it I would be completely and utterly screwed. Anytime I need to go somewhere, I basically stare at google maps for 30 minutes, draw a mini-map of my destination area in my notebook, pick a few landmarks that I hope a moto driver might know, and feel a lot of anxiety. Then I head out to the street. On any main street you can wave down a moto - they are everywhere, all the time. But very few speak English. And very few seem to understand my French. I usually have to go through 3-5 of them before I find one who seems to actually understand where I need to go. (I tell them the landmark, and the neighborhood the landmark is in. And while you're talking to one 3 others will stop by just in case you don't like the original guy or his price. Usually anyone with English skills wins, in my case). Once I've chosen a driver, I climb on and say "buhoro buhoro" and "buhoro chanay!", which means "Slowly! Very slowly!", and which also means "please please don't fucking kill me right now". Then they smile and off we go.
Here is a little story of what house hunting is like in Kigali - with no car and no real understanding of the city after two weeks.
I was headed to see a cheap room in a shared house. Alex was working, of course, so I took a moto towards the US Embassy - the only landmark I had to go off in my directions. I got off the bike where the paved road ended and followed my little hand drawn map and ridiculous directions ("below the mosque") - when there was an entire neighborhood below the fucking mosque.
I went to the street "below the mosque" and walked around a bit looking for the "3rd driveway on the left, green gate, before the incomplete house". I tried a few different streets when I didn't see anything like that. But there were just little local style mud and cement houses everywhere - no place a muzungu (foreigner) would rent a room in the big house that was described. All the dusty little kids ran around shouting "Ello!! Ello!" and "Bye" and "Bonjooo!" and "Good moaning!" (even though it was 5 pm). It's amazing how kids here continue to be so passionately delighted every time they see a white person.
So finally I went back to the other roads that were in the opposite direction of the mosque and found the big fancy houses with the gates. But there were four different long dirt streets, and almost no green gates, and definitely no green gates that were the 3rd driveway on the left! Or anything close to it.
There was also a pack of 4 roaming soldiers, armed with massive guns, that I was beginning to pass over and over. Which was awkward. I was trying to avoid passing them a 5th time, but I couldn't, and luckily when I did one actually said "hello". (I am intimidated by the soldiers here - there are many - and I don't know the rules. Are you supposed to ingore them, avoid eye contact, smile, or say hello? No idea). In a combo of broken French and English the soldier asked wtf I was doing. I explained that I was trying to find a house but had no idea where it was, to which he replied "I wanted to help you get where you're going but you don't know where you're going!". So I tried to have him call the lady showing the house, but we discovered I had no more credit on my phone. So then the four armed soldiers escorted me around the streets asking people where we could buy phone credit. Then they escorted me to the little store in the area of tiny mud and cement houses where I bought some credit. But I forgot how to put it on my phone so the soldier had to do it. And all the people were staring. Everyone in Rwanda just stares and stares and stares. Me, four armed soldiers, about six dusty, snotty African smiling kids shouting "Bye!" "Ello!" "Bonjoo!" standing in the middle of a pack of staring Rwandas of all ages. One of the soldiers calling the lady on my phone. What fun!
I desperately wanted to take a picture but was scared of how everyone would react. I'll always regret not taking one.
He hung up and implied, in a variety of languages, that he had no idea where the house was and also implied that I was in the completely wrong neighborhood. But then some other random guy who had been watching the spectacle came over and somehow seemed to know exactly where we were supposed to go, and, five minutes later, we were at the house. (Which is one I had walked by and considered calling to see if it was the one, but there was no incomplete house on the same block, and it was on the wrong side of the road).
The room was not lovely, but not awful. But most importantly they said "no couples allowed". Should've asked about that before this 2 hour outing...
So then I was off towards home. Repeat motorbike fiasco.
Life in Kigali. For now....
(Please tell me it gets easier?)
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| The soldiers who were to become my escorts... |
A farm in Nyamata
(Written Early July)
I basically have nothing to do all day, every day. I don't really have any friends; I don't have a job; there is nothing much to do in Kigali - and anywhere I'd want to go requires a long, long walk, a dangerous moto ride, or a prohibitively expensive taxi.
I apply for jobs, but there aren't many to apply for. I run errands, but there aren't too many to run. I seeded some at the restaurant. But mostly I feel like kind of a bum because we're staying at the restaurant (they have guestrooms) and I don't like feeling like a waste of life when everyone can see me.
So I started volunteering at this farm in Nyamata. The woman who runs it sells a few things to Heaven, and she has a piece of land where everything is grown organically and she gives jobs to the local community. It worked out well because she stays in Kigali and can drive me out there and back (it's 40 minutes south of the city), and I could start right away.
The farm is gorgeous. She has over 20 goats, lots of chickens and rabbits and guinea pigs, some fruit trees and a vegetable farm. There's a pineapple field, a greenhouse, and a few different plots growing different vegetables. I met her all Rwandan staff (only one of whom speaks any English), walked the land, and saw an absolutely stunning sunset.
Man, do they need help. Neither the owner nor her manager seem to know anything about farming. Like, she didn't even know what crops she was selling. The night before, she'd handed Alex a frisee lettuce and called it arugula, then called the arugula kale, then took out a few leaves of winterbor kale and said she had no idea what it was and was he interested in buying it. !!!?!!? She also sold him a bunch of lettuce that turned out to be raddichio! So crazy. Who starts a farm having no idea about anything? But I needed to get out of Kigali and do something, so I went to check out her place.
Her manager seemed to also have no idea about most crops they were growing. They were harvesting leaves off their broccoli and cauliflower plants to give to their rabbits, because they had no idea what the plants were, and the rabbits liked the leaves! It was kind of a mess, but it was really pretty, and nice to know I could help out in a very meaningful way. And there was lots of room for me to potentially help their organization. However, knowing I wouldn't be there all day, every day, also made it pretty hard for me to manage or direct anything.
I did some seeding, which was fun. But came back a week later to find that no one had watered any of the seeds, so that didn't work out too well. I still enjoy getting out of the city and being on open land, but I'm not sure what my role at this place will be, or how much I want to be involved, for a wide variety of reasons. My future here, TBD.
I basically have nothing to do all day, every day. I don't really have any friends; I don't have a job; there is nothing much to do in Kigali - and anywhere I'd want to go requires a long, long walk, a dangerous moto ride, or a prohibitively expensive taxi.
I apply for jobs, but there aren't many to apply for. I run errands, but there aren't too many to run. I seeded some at the restaurant. But mostly I feel like kind of a bum because we're staying at the restaurant (they have guestrooms) and I don't like feeling like a waste of life when everyone can see me.
So I started volunteering at this farm in Nyamata. The woman who runs it sells a few things to Heaven, and she has a piece of land where everything is grown organically and she gives jobs to the local community. It worked out well because she stays in Kigali and can drive me out there and back (it's 40 minutes south of the city), and I could start right away.
The farm is gorgeous. She has over 20 goats, lots of chickens and rabbits and guinea pigs, some fruit trees and a vegetable farm. There's a pineapple field, a greenhouse, and a few different plots growing different vegetables. I met her all Rwandan staff (only one of whom speaks any English), walked the land, and saw an absolutely stunning sunset.
Man, do they need help. Neither the owner nor her manager seem to know anything about farming. Like, she didn't even know what crops she was selling. The night before, she'd handed Alex a frisee lettuce and called it arugula, then called the arugula kale, then took out a few leaves of winterbor kale and said she had no idea what it was and was he interested in buying it. !!!?!!? She also sold him a bunch of lettuce that turned out to be raddichio! So crazy. Who starts a farm having no idea about anything? But I needed to get out of Kigali and do something, so I went to check out her place.
Her manager seemed to also have no idea about most crops they were growing. They were harvesting leaves off their broccoli and cauliflower plants to give to their rabbits, because they had no idea what the plants were, and the rabbits liked the leaves! It was kind of a mess, but it was really pretty, and nice to know I could help out in a very meaningful way. And there was lots of room for me to potentially help their organization. However, knowing I wouldn't be there all day, every day, also made it pretty hard for me to manage or direct anything.
I did some seeding, which was fun. But came back a week later to find that no one had watered any of the seeds, so that didn't work out too well. I still enjoy getting out of the city and being on open land, but I'm not sure what my role at this place will be, or how much I want to be involved, for a wide variety of reasons. My future here, TBD.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Who's the asshole in the shorts?
Oh! That asshole is me!!??!!
Today in Africa I learned that you will feel like an ass if you wear shorts in Rwanda. Especially if you're a girl.
As most of us know, I am not used to dressing up. Especially when I have nothing to do. I throw on some shorts, or my super short denim skirt, or whatever else is laying on my floor, and go about my business in town. I figured since I was just walking to town to run some errands, and since I have an extremely limited number of even somewhat nice outfits to wear, which I try to save for interviews and nights out, I could put on my nice, clean shorts and walk to town.
So I did. I knew most people don't wear shorts here, and that it might be frowned upon. But I figured I don't know anyone and I can't afford to get nice stuff dirty, so I'll go for it. Who cares what people think?
Yikes. The looks of disgust! The stares at my white, white legs! It was awful. For the entire time I was out pretty much everyone I passed stared. And I felt like an asshole. I vowed to never do it again.
You always hear these things about places. The Lonely Planet guide tells you to be respectful and cover up. You pack appropriately. But then you get to your destination and there are Swedish backpackers everywhere with their blond hair flowing and their mile long white legs glowing and their bikinis hanging out and what not, and you realize no one really gives a damn what you wear. This has been the case everywhere I've been - until Rwanda.
Later, I put on a dress. A pretty little sundress that falls just above my knee (okay, maybe 1-2 inches above my knee). I also put on sneakers because Kigali is incredibly spread out and going anywhere involves at least a 30 minute walk. The stares did not stop. But this time, I couldn't be sure if they were staring again at my white legs, or at my now horrendous fashion and distasteful sneakers. I think it was the legs, but I'll comfort myself with the fact that it could have been the sneakers.
Everyone here is incredibly fashionable, all the time. A muzungu who goes out looking like crap ain't gonna get much respect in the streets. As you can imagine, this is something Alex and I are struggling with. A long, ongoing struggle.
But, until I cross a border, my trusty shorts and little denim skirt have been tucked far and deep into the back of my closet. Every time I go running I look at the two pairs of running shorts I brought (short!!!), contemplate for a couple seconds, and then put on my capri stretch pants. I choose sweating over stares these days, until I learn the rules.
(I also read that flip flops - which I wear almost every day - are illegal here, but that's for another post).
Today in Africa I learned that you will feel like an ass if you wear shorts in Rwanda. Especially if you're a girl.
As most of us know, I am not used to dressing up. Especially when I have nothing to do. I throw on some shorts, or my super short denim skirt, or whatever else is laying on my floor, and go about my business in town. I figured since I was just walking to town to run some errands, and since I have an extremely limited number of even somewhat nice outfits to wear, which I try to save for interviews and nights out, I could put on my nice, clean shorts and walk to town.
So I did. I knew most people don't wear shorts here, and that it might be frowned upon. But I figured I don't know anyone and I can't afford to get nice stuff dirty, so I'll go for it. Who cares what people think?
Yikes. The looks of disgust! The stares at my white, white legs! It was awful. For the entire time I was out pretty much everyone I passed stared. And I felt like an asshole. I vowed to never do it again.
You always hear these things about places. The Lonely Planet guide tells you to be respectful and cover up. You pack appropriately. But then you get to your destination and there are Swedish backpackers everywhere with their blond hair flowing and their mile long white legs glowing and their bikinis hanging out and what not, and you realize no one really gives a damn what you wear. This has been the case everywhere I've been - until Rwanda.
Later, I put on a dress. A pretty little sundress that falls just above my knee (okay, maybe 1-2 inches above my knee). I also put on sneakers because Kigali is incredibly spread out and going anywhere involves at least a 30 minute walk. The stares did not stop. But this time, I couldn't be sure if they were staring again at my white legs, or at my now horrendous fashion and distasteful sneakers. I think it was the legs, but I'll comfort myself with the fact that it could have been the sneakers.
Everyone here is incredibly fashionable, all the time. A muzungu who goes out looking like crap ain't gonna get much respect in the streets. As you can imagine, this is something Alex and I are struggling with. A long, ongoing struggle.
But, until I cross a border, my trusty shorts and little denim skirt have been tucked far and deep into the back of my closet. Every time I go running I look at the two pairs of running shorts I brought (short!!!), contemplate for a couple seconds, and then put on my capri stretch pants. I choose sweating over stares these days, until I learn the rules.
(I also read that flip flops - which I wear almost every day - are illegal here, but that's for another post).
Thursday, July 26, 2012
First meal in Rwanda
Oh dear.
We knew this was coming. It's basically the reason we went to Southeast Asia for a month before heading to Africa (it was most certainly not on the way!). But we needed to eat our faces off before facing, well, the brown mush that sits in front of us today.
After chatting with our hosts for a bit and settling in, we were excited to head out for an African lunch. We were recommended to head to the Camellia Tea House for their popular buffet. But we got there way past regular hours and the pickings were fairly slim. Anyway, here's what we'll be eating for the next year....
Bon Appetit!!!!!
We knew this was coming. It's basically the reason we went to Southeast Asia for a month before heading to Africa (it was most certainly not on the way!). But we needed to eat our faces off before facing, well, the brown mush that sits in front of us today.
After chatting with our hosts for a bit and settling in, we were excited to head out for an African lunch. We were recommended to head to the Camellia Tea House for their popular buffet. But we got there way past regular hours and the pickings were fairly slim. Anyway, here's what we'll be eating for the next year....
Bon Appetit!!!!!
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