Last Friday night, we had a large dinner celebration to express appreciation to all our Rwandan friends. All of us invited a few people, so the meal ended up being quite large. Aside from inviting Felix, Emmanuel, Prudence and the other Felix, I also invited my FHI/R boss Emmanuel and his wife. Unfortunately, she only spoke Kinyarwanda and broken French, so we were largely unable to communicate. Emmanuel and I had a great time reminiscing memorable moments throughout the summer, including when I fell back in the chair at the office and the night in Burundi when we heard "the goats". I felt my throat tighten as I walked him to the door.
It was not long before everyone had to leave in order to make it home before the taxis stopped operating. As many of the others walked their guests to the door, Aaron and I hurried to stuff our backpacks with a few sleeping necessities. The reason: a sleepover at Felix's. Though we technically invited ourselves, they were excited to accommodate us. After an half hour waiting for a taxi, we finally made our way over and settled in. They mocked me: "Do you know where you are? Are you lost?" ... grrr. The room where Felix and his three other roommates (Prudent, Prosper, Eugene) lived is small, about the size of my dorm, and was part of a co-ed student housing unit. We looked at pictures, listened and danced to Boyz II Men and enjoyed conversation about various topics. When it was time for the slumber part of the party to begin, we knew it was going to be squish. Eugene slept on a mattress on the floor, giving Aaron his bed, and Felix offered to share his, since it was bigger than the others. And the mattress was bigger, the frame was not, as I learned when I fell and got stuck between the bed and the wall. Reaching under the bed for support, I discovered a variety of interesting objects: an electric plug, old soap and a pen. "Felix, is this your toothbrush?" "Oh, I was looking for that." We all laughed heartily before falling asleep in the hot and stuffy room.
The next morning before we left, they insisted that we share one last breakfast together. We stopped at a restaurant and got tea and a pita-like matoke. Before we were able to offer, our hosts paid for our meal. Given the obvious differences between us, this was a loving and impressionable gesture, especially when our white skin is associated with money; mzungu means "rich, white person." For Aaron and I, this showed us that Felix, Emmanuel, Eugene and Prudent were true friends. They did not look at us as mzungus, but as Aaron and Jim. As we stood at the taxi stop, Eugene asked me if I had any siblings. "Yeah, I have brother," I replied. "How about you?" Eugene hesitated for a second. "No," he sighed. "My family was killed in the genocide. I'm an orphan." "I am so sorry," I answered, as sincerely as I could, putting my hand on his shoulder. "Now my family is Felix, Prudent, Prosper, Emmanuel, Christian," and making eye contact, "you and Aaron." I smiled and we embraced.
It was difficult to depart from our university friends, but I had little time to reflect as I returned home shortly before we were to leave for a wedding. Sabine, a cook at the Guitarama guest house, was to be married, and all of us were invited. Here is the daily schedule for a Rwandan wedding. 8am - 11am: traditional wedding. 12pm - 3pm: church wedding. 4pm - 9pm: reception. 9pm - who knows: house opening ceremony. Still tired from the previous night, I reluctantly donned my pink shirt and tie. We intended to go straight to the church wedding, but our driver unknowingly took us the traditional wedding a way outside of Kigali, arriving just as it ended. So we turned around and headed back to town. Normally, such a pointless trip would irritate me, but Aaron, Abby and I were the bed of the truck due to the lack of space. After a while, we stood up and gripped the grate at the top of the truck. I closed me eyes, allowing the wind to fly through my face and hair. We sang songs, waved at Rwandans, and avoided raindrops that stung like pebbles as we drove into them. Arriving at the church wedding, I jumped from the truck bed, readjusting my tie, which had become loose in the breeze.
The wedding was long, and therefore, I will be short in writing about it. Two couples got married during the church service, complete with constant karaoke background music and some sort of scout dance troupe. I honestly did not know Sabine that well, and was noticeably impatient throughout the ceremony, especially since the nine hour section of the service we attended was entirely in Kinyarwanda. The food served at the reception, a knob of chicken and a potato, was slightly less than satisfied, but given the hundreds of people that attended I was impressed. We left long after dark, and my crankiness was apparent in how I pushed people back to get all our group to get on a strongly desired matatu taxi. I may have even grunted. :I
Sunday was less than exciting as I scrambled to buy last minute gifts and take last minute pictures. In between my errands, I managed to pack all of my clothes and knick-knacks securely in my luggage. So that by Monday afternoon, I was ready to depart. When Alphonse, one of our trusted house guards, figured out that we were leaving, his looked very upset, sharply contrasting his normal bright smile. Surprisingly, before we left, Dwight took Aaron and I for a ride and shared us exciting news about E-Sponsorship. He told us that the idea was spreading like a wildfire within his network, and that a prototype should be ready by the end of August. With some luck, I should be one of its beta-testers sometime this fall. Aaron and I was grateful to hear this before we parted. Dwight drove us to the airport, where we met the girls and my luggage. Before we went through security, I gave my best regards and good-byes to Dwight, who has been a wonderful mentor, Verdaste, my trusty safari driver, Abby, who is now visiting in Uganda, and Aaron, who is enjoying South Africa. I found it difficult to part with Aaron, who has become a great friend, but at the same time, I am confident that we will see each other again, in this lifetime or the next.
I did not have a window seat, so I failed to the landscape as we ascended above The Land of a Thousand Hills. When I did manage to get a look though, I only saw desert down below, and then I knew that I was out of Rwanda.
One story of note about our return journey. Because our flight to Washington was delayed in Rwanda for two hours, we obviously less time to connect with our flight. Miraculously, (literally), the five of us were the first through customs, having received our luggage promptly and experiencing no difficulties. Feeling lucky, we confidently went to retrieve our domestic boarding passes, only to learn that the flight had been moved up forty-five minutes, meaning we should have already boarded. We ran down the terminal and through customs. We made it just in time, panting as we displayed our boarding passes. I thank God for our luck in customs, because without it we would not have made our flight.
Though this would appear to be the end, I would like to post at least once more as I find time to reflect on my experience and seek to make the lessons I have learned applicable to American life. So, if you are interested, please check back in a week or so. If not, thank you for reading. Please return at the end of September to read about my journeys in Rome! God Bless!
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