Inspiration isn't striking

I'm feeling enormous pressure to bust out something pithy. Indeed, there are developments abound (ha) here in Kigali, but many are a little tricky right now to discuss. And so I'm searching for something worthwhile to say that doesn't get me into a whole lot of trouble, and inspiration is failing me.

I hold the deep suspicion that the gang I kick it with doesn't want to hear about my meanders to Lake Muwahi, and though while the bit about our truck getting stuck in mud for two hours while 16 local men pushed it around as though it was on an ice rink while dogs vomitted in the back is mildly amusing, surely it's not going to buy me a blog.

I thought about talking about the tale of my first endeavour to cook beef brochette on the barby and how after cooking all day the Rwandan guests professed a love of goat. I'm pretty sure there was a message there. But the story ends a little lamely, as in that's pretty much the whole story.

Ooh, and there is the bit about my friend's security guard. His name is Theo. Theo has made it a relatively regular habit to come to work beyond blazed drunk. As in he passes out regularly and no amount of shouting or shining lights directly into his eyes seems to help. The hilarious bit is that my friend is actually concerned about security, as demonstrated by the installation of panic buttons throughout his house. And yet, despite a frequent attempts to either get Theo to try on sobriety whilst at work to firing Theo, my friend instead decided to buy theo a cap and jacket from the states that read "Security". He likes Theo.
Theo was proudly sporting said jacket and cap the other night at a party we threw, where he demonstrated his machete skills with a piece of wood and then proceeded to pass out. We grabbed a light and shouted "Qu'est ce-que vous faites!" very loudly, and finally after fifteen minutes he popped open an eye, grinned, and promptly passed out again.

Then I considered regailing you with the latest disarmament tales from one of my new favorite podmates, but we're back to the politically sensitive bit again.

I've just begun been reading "What is the What", a story of a man who, as a boy, was seperated from his family in Sudan's brutal civil war; who trekked across Africa's punishing wilderness with thousands of other children; who survived aerial bombardment and attacks by militials and wild animals; who ate whatever he could find or nothing at all; who considered ending his life to end the suffering; and who eventually made it to America, where a new and equally challenging tale began. (Direct quote from back of book). Frankly, in this shadow it's tough to fathom that I have a fighting chance of busting out anything worthwhile to say.

And so, I will say this. I have been learning an enormous amount during my time here. I'm very grateful that I get to have these wild adventures around the world. The winds seem to be changing at the moment. And we got a dog. His name is Sassou. And he has marched off with my Security tags and I'm either going to have to beat him or bring him onto my cause in solidarity and in an attempt to find them. Because I changed offices to the Tower, and I keep getting locked into the Tower without it. Its a bummer. That's the update.