It's Umuganda, "community work" day in Rwanda. On the last Saturday of every month, every Rwandan citizen is obligated to help clean the town, fix the roads, weed the public spaces, etc. The obligatory work period generally runs until noon, and then one is able to commence with their Saturday routine. Last month I attempted participation and got laughed at. Instead I went for a run- it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience as no one is on the roads at this time and I don't have to breathe in lungfuls of carbon monoxide or get chased (did I mention I caused an accident last week when some dude thought watching me run was more important than watching the road and ended up in the ditch? Given that he wasn't hurt, nor did he take anyone out with him, I was secretly happy. What a gomer). The Rwandans may know a thing or two about ditching plastic bags, but Vancouver should exchange their air-care techniques. Anyways.
In the time since I got to Rwanda, I've managed to take on so many projects that my eyeballs are swimming in them. I also don't have access to internet at home. Which means I have to trudge with my trusty laptop to some venue providing internet-sometimes the local coffee shop, but today I decided to come into my office for uninterrupted work time. UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon is on his way over here from Goma (Congo) tomorrow, so the office is buzzing with speech writers and logistics coordinators. In I come. So, the other problem is that I live a fair distance from my office. On weekdays this is no problem because Jovin comes to get me. On the weekends, a touch trickier, and on Umuganda, trickier still. One of my weekend roomates had to go to town anyways, so we figured we'd grab a cab. While I was under the impression that this could be tricky,I didn't realize it was illegal. So off we trudge, me with my laptop strewn over my shoulder, to get a cab. After trekking a great distance (and we're in Rwanda, we're talking hills. Steep hills. Heavy laptop.), some motos come along. I've been warned against motos. I've been told their at best they're not exactly reliable, at worst, dangerous. But I also know that everyone uses them. I used them frequently in Cameroon and Chad, but here I've been more cautious. Unfortunately, taxis here cost a fortune and couldn't be found, the local transport wasn't running this morning, and the moto looked like my big opportunity. So I tell him to go slow, hop on the back, and say aurevoir (as I'm in french now) to my roomate who hopped on another moto. And off we went.
Um, I'm fairly certain he wasn't interested in my pleas for restraint. Instead we tare off at a staggering speed, and I start thinking, aieee, I made a mistake. So I'm tapping on his shoulder, begging for him to slow down, to which he heeds my requests for all of three seconds before raring off again. I start to panick when I see a police officer up at the round about-genius, I think, the police will surely stop us (I was thinking more due to speed than to the fact that it was illegal to be on the roads). So indeed, an attempt is made, and instead of slowing down, the moto dude goes faster and then swerves as the cop lunges at us. Not exactly a safety conscious move on the police's part, but the driver is crazy. We speed off again, and I'm screaming at him to slow down. Again ignored. Then we get to a point and see another police checkpoint, so the driver spins a uey over the meridian (I didn't know motos with two people on them could get over meridians), and then boots it off-roading style up the side of the mountain. I'm hoping the police don't take this opportunity to bust out their trusty machine guns, as this is a scenario I assume they would use them for. And I don't have time to bust out my white flag.
Despite the fact that Rwanda is supposed to be in a dry spell, we aren't, and the rains had been pouring all night, so part of the dodgy-off road got swept away. But by that time, I'm so far from anywhere I know, and ps largely in the middle of no where, that my choices became increasingly limited. The jist is, I finally managed to leap off the moto when I thought it was least likely to kill me, and walked the rest of the way. The moto guy tore off because the police started chasing us. "Well", I think, "I suspect I've learned my lesson, and also, I didn't have to pay him". Always looking for a silver lining. Guess who comes racing after me on foot to get his money about five minutes after? My trusty driver. I gave him a little but probably should have kicked him in the junk. I'm going to claim that I was still in shock.
On the work front, I've been back and forth to Nyagatare(my field office), quite regularly, and will post some pics of the view on the way there for your viewing pleasure. It is really quite breathtaking how beautiful the landscape is-these are more from Rwamagana, which is forty five minutes from where I live, but as you keep driving the terrain changes substantially. It's gorgeous. What can I say. On the life front, Sarah, one of my closest friends (and photographer of several of the pictures I have posted), popped in last night on her way up to Uganda. I had just enough time for a quick visit between a run and having to trudge back to night school, and it corresponded with a ginormous thunderstorm, so we hung out, laughing our heads off at the banality of some of the thoughts that go running through your mind when you spend a lot of hours on your own. Let's just say that the right-speech I was considering in a previous post came there to die. Oh and also, a word of complaint: on my way back from French class, I have to pass a really creepy white mannequin. I wish someone would take care of that for me. May have to call in the troops to take care of it...I've already been on several reconnaissance missions. Stay tuned.
I have to get back to work. I know my posting efforts have been lame-I will try to improve on them, but really, I'm here to work, not entertain. I'll try harder...
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