Rwanda, post number 8 (March 30th)

March 30, 2010; 15.15 CST

Today has been a very long and very exhausting day. We began the day, as always, with breakfast: at breakfast, we did a small collection for the newly-widowed sister of one of the Centre César employees, who just lost her husband to (I think) sickness. We collected just under 100 000 Rwf for her, or approximately $160 USD. That was nice to do and felt good.

We headed off to the Centre César not entirely certain of what was going to happen that morning. Our group ended up getting chosen to go to the nursery, and we waited at the Centre until 9.30 until we could finally head over there. The nursery is a refurbished chicken coop, and is definitely too small for the Centre’s needs. A new nursery on the Centre property (the current nursery is a couple streets away) is one of the priorities, but the list is long enough ...

Anyway, when we got there we helped out with colouring and a bit of English phonics. Both were incredibly difficult, what with about 30 kids between the ages of 3 and 5 all talking loudly at the same time in Kinyarwanda and not particularly wishing to pay attention or to attempt to understand what the abazungu were trying to help them with. Very cute and very eager, but as most preschoolers, not terribly focused on the task at hand. Oh well.

After that mini-lesson was snack: whatever water or juice or milk they had brought from home, whatever snack they had from home, and two cookies from the nursery’s stock. They sat and ate that quietly enough, washing their hands before and after. Several of them left without asking (I think) to go to the washroom – it seemed rather an informal practice as they seemed to just up and leave to the building directly adjacent, using a little room as a sort of in-outhouse (inside a building, but outside their own). After their snack we gave them all a lollipop, then we all went down to a patch of grass kitty-corner to our own building site, where we said goodbye and headed back to the Centre. The other group that would go help with the nursery kids was to go at 10.30 and we were to work.

We didn’t get very much work done today, even though there was lots of wood to be used. Roxanne has been getting sicker (a cold) over the past couple of days, and today she was exhausted. Most of us were, really. I continue to be very irritable, though I try to calm myself down as much as possible. It is often difficult not to swear at the boards that don’t quite work, or to resent the fact that the wood is not cut straight or has been badly chosen or is just very bad wood. None of these are things we can do much about, and we just have to work with what we have. I believe we got three shelves done in the half-hour we worked, as opposed to five or six which would have been at least 75% done in that normal amount of time if we had not all been exhausted.

Upon our return to the inn for lunch, M Raval told us that Maman Nicole had been almost in tears when he had given her the money we had donated for the employee’s sister, which made us all feel very happy that we had been able to do something good.

After lunch, we headed to the downtown area for an afternoon of shopping. We first stopped at a small market of artisanal goods: I bought gifts for everyone and filled my list, but in the process spent 41500 Rwf (approximately $72.55 USD). Far less than what I would have spent on the same items in Canada, but probably about a third more than I would have spent had I had Manu or someone bartering for me. I did some bartering on my own, but you can only go so far when you are an umuzungu. I don’t particularly like markets like these – they give you a rush of adrenaline, especially if you are good at bartering, but I always feel sort of let down afterwards. If you’re not happy with what you spent, you have only yourself to blame really, and you can’t return things ... not that I want to. I am happy with what I have, and it is silly to think that I should have spent less: the extra money I may have spent as an umuzungu may have put food on the table for a couple more days for those vendors. That’s a good thing. Also, it’s no use trying to save the francs. I need to spend them here, just like Dad said when Mom and I went to Washington – the money is to spend; it is better to bring back useful/good things than just money. Or something like that. Still, I don’t like spending large amounts of money, especially when I have a limit. I suppose most people are the same. I suppose that’s a good thing in some ways and to a certain extent, too. One shouldn’t be a spendthrift, but one shouldn’t be a miser either.

After that small market, we went to the Hotel des Mille Collines and had drinks by the pool (and some of us had ice cream, which was apparently very good – I miss ice cream (and I miss Nucci’s more), and could go for a pizza ... no, a clubhouse sandwich, that’d be really good). It was really, really neat to be at the Hotel des Mille Collines, especially by the pool, since it’s the center of fictionalized accounts of the genocide (Hotel Rwanda, A Sunday in Kigali, etc). You feel a bit like you’re on a movie set, like you do at the White House or the Smithsonian and all. It started pouring while we were there: the rainy season has definitely begun, and the interesting thing about that is that while there is intense rain at least once a day, there is also intense heat and sun – extremes, like in Canada, but far faster. The rain is very welcome after the boiling sun.

We spent more time at Mille Collines than we should have, and only had 25 minutes at the Kigali market (and didn’t go to the new mall, but Igor said it was basically like a mall at home, so no big deal). I only had 9850 Rwf left (and still only have that much), so I didn’t bring any money in with me: I went in to help Roxanne find what she needed and to look around. While there, I saw an absolutely wonderful game that I really wanted, but of course I had no money so I had to leave sad – this sadness was only worsened when the vendor told me 19000 Rwf for it, and the others I had seen and asked about were between 25k to 70k Rwf.

Roxanne and I made it around the square and met up with Rodrigue, who asked me whether I was finding anything and how it was going. I told him that I had found all the gifts I needed and had brought no money in, but had seen this wonderful set and unfortunately couldn’t buy it. I expected a small amount of consolation and a sort of, “eh, that’s life” response, but he told me to show him the set. A little surprised, I found it again and showed him. He asked how much the vendor had asked for it and I told him nineteen grand. He looked at it, then said to me that he would come back tomorrow and buy it for ten grand, and it would be his present to me. I was shocked, and still am. That’s $17.50 USD – less by far than what I would pay in Canada, again, but a sizable amount. I thanked him profusely, and he was pretty blasé about it. If I have enough francs left by Sunday, I will give him back everything I can; that or split it between him and Manu as thanks for both their services.

I have set aside 5000 Rwf to pay for my dress, which will hopefully be done by the end of the week, because I would like to bring it home now and know whether or not it will be my grad dress and not find out in May that I didn’t need to buy a $300 dress (if it’s not done by the end of the week, Maman Nicole will bring it, along with any others, when she next comes to Canada in May). If I pay that 5000 Rwf to the widows making my dress, then I have 9850 Rwf that I can split between Rodrigue and Manu. Although it is possible that Rodrigue may refuse it, since he said it would be a gift. It might be considered rather rude to repay that, even if it is in thanks. I don’t know. I will see.

After the Kigali market, we drove through the most densely-populated neighbourhood of Kigali, the name of which escaped me at the moment but which starts with Nyaruba, I think … this neighbourhood is notable for being the only predominantly Muslim neighbourhood in Kigali, the rest being predominantly Christian. Igor didn’t say why that happened to be the case, only that it was: and that during the genocide, this was the only neighbourhood and the only religion that refused to separate its people into Hutu and Tutsi. Igor didn’t say, but I think the implication was that the Interahamwe just killed anybody here. Nonetheless, the neighbourhood holds over 500 000 people, and as one person (Will? Danika? Sandrine?) put it, “They have houses in their backyards!” which is basically how it was. Igor had once told us that in one neighbourhood of Kigali, the houses were so close together on the hillside that people would fall off of their roof onto their neighbour’s roof, and it was a common occurrence. I have no trouble believing the stories now.

We came back and had supper, which included a distinctly Rwandan dish made of manioc: the root was made into a sort of gooey dough that you were supposed to shape with your hands into a sort of spoon, with which you would scoop up some of the cooked manioc leaves. The cooked manioc leaves tasted strongly of seaweed, and the manioc root had a very different texture, so while I made myself each all that I had taken, I don’t think I could back for seconds, nor do I think I will eat it again. Definitely an acquired taste, perhaps better acquired in youth.

Igor told a short story at the table about how Janelle had sung an Édith Piaf song on the island tour the other day, and how it had told him that he could see La Vie en Rose just as how his father had seen that Je ne regrette rien at the end of his days. It was a rather touching story, and Igor said that in Rwandan tradition, if someone gives you a gift that you cannot repay, you are supposed to talk about the person to everyone you meet and even to swear in their name to show that you are very grateful. He spoke of hoping that his descendants might have the chance to thank Janelle’s descendants properly for the gift she had given him.

The Visionaries came around tonight again, and we brought out the drums we had bought and started playing them with them. I learned how to drum semi-properly, and was the first to be taught. I love it! It’s so much fun! It’s right-arm dominant so far, so my right arm is pretty sore, but I learned a lot and had a lot of fun. I’m glad I had the chance. Several of the Visionaries told me that I was very good at drumming – a very high compliment, it seems to me, to give an umuzungu! I drummed for what must have been over an hour, and am even more exhausted now.

It is time to sleep. We go to Butare in the morning, where the king’s palace used to be/is, and where the National Art Museum is. I’m pretty excited, but I’m also falling asleep on my keyboard, so good night.