Serious People. Doing Serious Work. In Goma.

That's right. You guessed it. Last week, I had the pleasure of meeting serious people. Doing serious work. In Goma. You may have been tipped off by the title of this blog. As I was strolling home from my evening french class, I had the honour of hearing "Muzungo!" (white man) screamed at me in a suspiciously white-man voice. Friend or foe? Turned out to be the serious people. And by this, I mean some pompous young Americans. (Don't worry, I get the distinction, not all Americans are pompous. These ones just happened to be. And some Canadians are pompous. I just don't know any. Ahem). So back to the pompous Americans. The interaction goes a little something like this:
Pompous Americans (PAs): Yo Muzungo, are you our new Australian neighbour?
Me: No.
PAs: What are you doing here?
Me: Working for the UN. (Ok, I admit, I took the bait...)What are you doing here?
PA1: Live here, dad is missionary.
PA2: Volunteering for World Vision
PA3 (and this is where it gets particularly interesting, hold your breath): In transit.
Side note: In my wee mind, this answer piques my interests, as Kigali is an interesting place to find yourself "in transit". And so, I dared to ask the question: In transit from where?
PA3: From Kenya. On way to Goma.
Me: Are you working for the UN?
PA3: No.
Me: What organization are you going with?
PA3: None.
Me: Oh. So you're just going to kick it in Goma for a bit?
Another side note: these days, Goma is not exactly the vacation destination of choice. Something about a brutal conflict. And grenades. And rape.
PA3: No, my friends and I are going to bust out a relief mission.
Me: Splendid. Have you thought this through?
PA3: Every day (in a very grave and serious tone, as one would expect from a serious person).
Me: Ok. Exit.

This, my friends, is the variety of help that is better left at the door. I can imagine nothing more useful than to be in a conflict zone and have a team of incompetent yet arrogant kids swoop through the borders to save the poor Africans that can't save themselves. It is precisely this sort of interaction that makes me want to come home and get over my African aspirations, for fear that I too sucumb to the White Man's Burden. No mirrors or need for further comment, thanks. And though I commend Ms. Jolie for bringing important issues into mainstream media (read: People magazine), I also suspect she's to thank for the influx of rich youth with not a whole lot more to do then try to be captured in an air-blown shot saving the minions. Again. No mirrors please. I don't like feeling uncomfortable with my own hypocricy. It makes me feel...uncomfortable.

As an afterthought, and to be fair, it's the nature of development work. International Institutions want development tourists, bushy-tailed youngsters to get out there, leave their evian at the door, and demonstrate that they can hack it in a mud hut without hot showers and starbucks for a couple of weeks. Only then can you get the next internship or volunteer experience, which will then, theoretically, lead to further work, if you can still hack it. The trouble is that some believe that development=something=better-than-nothing. Um. I'm not convinced. Somebody draft me a memo for further examination. But marching in with a lot of money, dropping millions on a colonial palace in the plains/rainforests/hills/desert sands of enter-any-African-country-here amongst the poor-people-but-hey-we-can't-help-everyone-and-also-please-don't-mind-us-but-your-land-is-part-of-our-plan-so-shift-your-hut-a-touch-if-you-would-be-so-kind.
Good intentions count, don't they?
Clearly, I'm having a disillusioned day. I can sense my penchant for pithy monologue is about to crank up a notch. There may be more to come...

He dared to ask the question: "Is there a balance between Kreotene and Atkins?"

The answer: apparently not. In the life of any expat, a golden light shines forth when someone from the West comes to bring you that which you long for. In my roomate Oren's case, he was longing for some power bars. He's a big, muscle-sporting guy. He says he's been hungry ever since he got to Rwanda-rice and beans apparently don't cut it. To emphasize this fact, he consumed a 1.5 ltr. tub of cookies and cream ice cream with oatmeal cookies crushed into it with Kyle an Benna. And so, when he heard that someone was coming to Rwanda from Dubai, he asked them to pick up some power bars. He needs protein. Instead, he got three crazy bars packed with kreotene, along with a box of Atkins bars and a box of slim fast bars. All for the low low price of $50 US. When my roomates and I were lounging on the couches in the living room on saturday afternoon as he lamented his tale, we were all gutting ourselves laughing. Good intentions notwithstanding, we were trying to figure out the leap from power bars to slim fast bars, and it was hilarious.

I've had another great weekend. Friday, my friend Sarah came back from Uganda, and she has made friends with Kigali's contemporary artist, who had an artshow at one of the local bars. So Andrew, Sarah and I headed for dinner to this Chinese restaurant called Flamingos, which actually offered some pretty amazing grub, and then we headed out to the artshow, which was great. Saturday morning, Sarah and I trudged our laptops to the airport so we could use the free wireless and drink a coffee. The coffee was ridiculously overpriced, but I got a bunch of work done.

Then we came home, scoffed some avacado and tomat, and headed to the market. By the time we got back, Benna, Oren, Kyle and Assaf had arrived, so we settled in for some lounge time (where the Atkins-Kreotene exchange took place), and then we all darted off to for dinner at Sole Luna, this great Italian restaurant with gorgeous terraces covered in virginia creeper overlooking Kigali (the great thing about Kigali is that its all on hills, so restaurants can get ideal locations nestled into the hills overlooking all the other hills. Its genius). We had some amazing food and a lovely night, went out to a lounge for a few drinks, and were back to the house by midnight, where we had yet another magic moment, and I realized, after two months in Kigali, I've found my Rwandan family. I felt super warm about this until Benna and Assaf woke me up at 4am.

The next morning, despite torturing Assaf that I was going to wake him up at 6 as retribution, I slept until 9-huzzah, I haven't slept in once since I got here-and worked until the rest of the crew rolled out of bed. We again made our way to the market, which was awesome-I found some great fabric, a green sweatshirt jacket I bought but am not entirely sure about (byer's remorse? Hope not), and a basket for my trinkets on my bedside table. Kyle found a sweet Kokanee Sasquatch shirt-a nod to the BC roots, along with some even sweeter orange running shorts, and all in all, we had another great day. Everyone took off at 3 and I worked the rest of the day.

Was in the field yesterday, this time visiting a mushroom and passion fruit cooperative in pretty much the middle of no where Rwanda. It was amazing. Jovin and I drove three hours to the field office, then another hour and a half down crazy dirt roads, and ended up in paradise. It was staggeringly beautiful. And Jovin's offroad moves beat the boys on bombi summit hands down. Am now back in the office, working away as always, and can't believe I've been here as long as I have. I was having a dream the other night that I was back in Canada, and when I woke up, I didn't know where I was. The first thing that flashed through my mind was-whoops, I'm not ready to be back in Canada . Thankfully, I don't have to be yet. So its Wendesday afternoon, I'm eating a passion fruit, a kind gift from one of my cooperatives, and I'm about to head off to french tutorial, because night school just wasn't enough for me, and I thought, hey, with no spare time, lets figure out a way to increase stress. Voila.

Running on Low

I think, when you are busy, you're able to get more done. When I wasn't working as much, anything seemed like a task, and it was good to spread it out a bit. Now, things are so crazy that I'm amazed at how much I can get done.

Yesterday, Jovin and I set off in the wee hours of the morning for Nyagatare District-my field office, which is about a 2.5-3hr drive. It is amazing how comfortable we have become with eachother-we have our routine now, and settle in to comfortable silence or Jovin telling me stories from the genocide or history of the region we travel through. We have our water spots, the same homeless man who finds me whenever I drive through town- it's good. So up we went, where we had a very quick meeting for an hour and a half, managed to get a lot of stuff done, then piled back into the car and whipped back to Kigali. We got back around 2pm, I got some emails done, and then I went to the opening of the "Institute of Research and Dialogue for Peace', a new peafce consolidation centre that is being sponsored in conjunction with the Japanese government. That was great, whipped back to the office, edited some terms of reference, and then was off to french class for the evening. Sometime in there I ended up at an Iranian trade fair (don't ask me how), and that was hilarious-a combo of the Richmond night market and...well, a market in Iran? It reminded me a lot of the trade shows I used to go with Saidou to in Cameroon. Kind of like home. With a lot of dodgy plastic flowers.

Indeed, things are moving, but I don't know how much longer I can keep this pace up. I've been asked to draft a chapter in a book, so I do that on weekends, and in my spare time (of which I have none), I am applying for a fellowship back in Canada, a process which takes forever. With french three nights a week on top of all that, along with two ridiculously busy projects with the UN, I'm starting to get burnt out. I was considering the other night what was going to have to go, and at first I was thinking the french, but after my tutoring session today I can see I'm really getting it, so I don't want to bail now. A tricky predicament indeed. Im supposed to be there again in an hour-I'm seriously considering bailing for the night. I got another 5am text-seriously, love you guys, stop sending me stuff in the middle of the night it wakes me up and I can't sleep and one of these days I'm going to lose it on one of you. Consider yourselves forewarned!

Also got some bad news this morning-the grandpa of a family to whom I am very close with is not doing well. Grandpa and I have a particularly unique connection, and before I left he promised me he'd live to 101, so he has a few years to go. Let me tell you how unimpressed I'm going to be if he bails on our deal. He was in the hospital just before I left with a minor problem and I marched in to give him a what for and he got out. Here's hoping the same thing happens this time. But it's not sounding good. So I'm feeling pretty down about that, and after shedding a tear or two, had to get it together for a meeting at the National Police HQ here in Kigali. It's been another ridiculously busy day. If anyone a) wants to be my secretary or b) has an idea of how to increase the hours in a day or the days in a week, do tell.
Back to the slog...

Weekend Bliss

After my harrowing moto ride on Saturday morning, I did make it in to the office and I was very successful in getting work done. At four pm I closed down my computer and marched home, and much to my delight, found several people who sometimes stay at the house on weekends. Sonia, my lovely Burundian friend was there getting her hair braided in typical African fashion-a trend that unfortunately takes hours and hours but is so gorgeous it is worth it in the end. I myself am considering it again-have done it several times when I lived in West Africa.

Once the hair extravaganza was complete, Sonia and I were joined by Assef, an Israeli who also works at the village, and we went off to find a restaurant. My intial intent to take them to Cactus, a great restaraunt that boasts garden seating and a gorgeous view of Kigali was short lived as the taxi driver didn't know where it was and was not the least bit interested in trying to figure it out. We ended up on the patio at Republica munching on brochette and having a few drinks. From there, we set off for KBC, one of the local nightclubs, for a night of dancing. This was quite the experience- reminded me a great deal of a combination of prom night in the 80's and my good friend Peter's parent's basement. An interesting combo indeed. At 2:30am I packed it in and headed to bed, and much to my dismay, due to pressing projects, was up again at 7am to work. The roomates were in and out of the house until noon, when all but Assef left back for the village.

Thankfully, Assef suggested I stop working and go with him to Kimironko market and explore. A much needed break . So off we set, on a beautiful afternoon in Rwanda, to check out some local art . Assef was particularly good at negotiations, and I managed to get some cool masks and drums for some lucky people back home. Then we considered our options for dinner-go out again or cook. I mentioned I'm not the greatest chef-a fact my driver, Jovin, learned, and laughed uproariously at, informing me that I'm going to be a lousy wife. Nice. Assef, however, is an excellent cook, so we wandered the market, found gorgeous fresh ingredients, bought some more beer, and headed home to cook. Assef proceeded to make amazing spagetti and sauce, we negotiated a proposed trip to head to Uganda to go rafting down the Nile in May, listened to some great music, and feasted on the porch while watching the sun set over Kigali. The kind of day that makes life worth living.

Unfortunately, I'm so wound up right now due to all the work I have on my plate that I couldn't sleep last night, despite the fact that I was exhausted from only four hours of sleep the night before. Also, as it is becoming increasingly clear that the rainy season is coming early this year, the mosquitos are acknowledging this fact as well, and seem to be bent on feasting on and torturing me every night. I don't know how, but they manage to make their way into my mosquito net, and don't seem to be the least bit swayed by my added effort of bug repellant. I am on anti-malarials, thankfully, but at this rate I won't be the least bit surprised if I get Malaria. Am going to be very conscious of fevers while this keeps up.

And finally, for my dear friends and family who want to express their love and adoration by phoning and texting, Sunday night my time is not the time to do it. I'm always tired, I always have to get up early for a crazy day at the office, and it always makes me feel borderline violent when you do. I would turn off my phone entirely but I rely on it for the alarm clock. Come on. I love you. Stop the madness.

Is Monday at lunch and I'm back to work. Have to go up to the field office tomorrow and at this rate with work and school, I'm praying I can keep going. I leave you with a couple of pictures of Sonia and Assef at the restaurant, Assef cooking for me, and the concoction he came up with.