This Life We Chose

June 15, 2006

The Crazy House

The house we live in unlike anything I have seen before. A really cute house but, it’s long on form and woefully short on function. Four bedrooms, two baths, living, dining, kitchen, pantry, alcove, two terraces and a big yard make up the place we call home for now. I worked with a very successful architectural firm in San Antonio and of course am married to an engineer so I know just a little bit about how a house should be constructed. Whoever built our house and every other one we’ve visited here is definitely not clear on the concept.

We have windows that rattle because they don’t fit the frames correctly. The front doors that open onto the main terrace are glass and have about a two-inch gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, a virtual welcome mat for lizards, dust and mosquitoes. We have fluorescent lighting on the exterior of the house and in the kitchen. There are times when the lights flicker for twenty minutes before staying on. It kind of gives the feeling of being in a 1970s disco right in the middle of my kitchen. Speaking of the kitchen - - the cabinets are not uniformly sized and some don’t stay closed. I affectionately refer to the stove as my Easy Bake Oven. I’m not a very tall person, but this stove is small even for me. In fact, the stove is precisely 32 inches high (and yes, I measured it). The refrigerator is another petite appliance. It’s a perfect kitchen – for Gary Coleman!

The bathroom fixtures are a constant source of aggravation – leaking, slipping, sticking, you name it. The floors are all white or near white tile and need to be mopped frequently just to stay on top of the red dust that blows in daily. The shingles while awfully cute rattle incessantly at the slightest gust of wind – imagine rain on a tin roof.

The house is surrounded by an iron gate and a cement wall that are about ten feet high. Walking around the single-family neighborhoods, you can only see the roofs. We have no idea who our neighbors are and could live here two years without seeing them. Concern for personal safety is very high as evidenced by the gated and guarded homes. It can be pretty spooky at times. On the one hand, we here in security briefings that Rwanda is probably the safest country on the African continent but on the other hand, they have guards, gates and a strong police presence on the streets. I’m not sure which one drives the other – safety or security.

June 16, 2006

We finally had satellite TV installed – not without some drama, however. Before the process can even begin someone has to go to the cable company and pick up the installer and bring him to the house. The technician arrives with the equipment to be installed but, alas, no tools. The dish was to be installed in the yard atop a pole and the cable would be run from the pole into the house. Just looking at the equipment, I knew he was ill-prepared to perform the installation. For some reason, it took him about an hour to decide he did not have everything he needed to be successful. He finally asked me for money to go buy the concrete and pole, promising to return the next and “finish” the installation. It seemed to me that since he never started, the appropriate verb would have been to “begin” the install – but I digress.

The next day we start all over again – driver goes to pick up the installer and brings him to the house. Now he needs to dig a hole in the ground. Do I have a shovel? Of course not; he improvises and uses a garden hoe. In my writer’s mind, I see a story unfolding so I park myself on the terrace to watch. This skinny little man looks to be no more than 18, and that’s probably generous. I’m watching him swing this garden hoe for all its worth trying to get a deep enough hole to accommodate the pole. Because he was wearing flip flops, I flinched every time the hoe got within striking distance of his feet but I couldn’t make myself turn away. When he looks like he’s at the point where he might begin using the concrete, I go around to the back of the house for a pail and offer it to him. No, he motions, he does not need the pail. Granted, I am no construction aficionado but I do know concrete needs water to perform and the user needs to mix the two in some type of container.

The guy then dumps the concrete under the spigot where we connect the water hose and mixes it right there in the grass. The next step is to scoop the freshly mixed concrete in his hands and run relays until he has enough in the hole with the pole to make it stand. Once the pole is secured in the ground, the next obstacle is how to get the cable from the yard to the house. Of course, the technician has no ladder so Ken has to bring one home from the job site. Once the install is finally finished, I am only too happy to give the guy money for a taxi and get him on his way.

Not the Garden of Eden

By now we’ve hired a guard, gotten all of our furniture moved in, have appliances installed and can watch TV when we have electricity. The next thing we need to do is hire a gardener. In Kigali, everyone “knows someone who is a gardener”. We had a couple of false leads – people who did not show up for interviews and incomplete referrals for the drivers on the project. This went on for a couple of weeks. In the meantime, Mother Nature was quietly turning our yard into a meadow before my eyes. The owner of the house had helped me negotiate a trash collection contract with a local company a couple of weeks ago. It just so happened that I decided to read the contract over a cup of tea one day last week and though it’s written in French, I was able to figure out that the company also does gardening. Silly me, I figured we probably could not go wrong if we hired a business instead of an individual. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be here.

After our experience with the satellite TV installer, we knew some of the basic questions to ask up front like does the gardener come with his own tools and whether we would be expected to provide transportation. One of the administrative people in the office speaks the local language and a respectable level of English, so she often gets used for translation services. Through her, we did a couple iterations of the gardening contract and arrived at what we thought was a mutual understanding of expectations. The gardener showed up on day one at 1:00 instead of 8:00 and put in about a half day’s work. The second day he showed up at shortly before 7:00 and proceeded to clean the exterior of the house – mopped the terraces, washed the pillars, washed the window ledges and glass doors. Needless to say, I was quite perplexed since the contract stated clearly what the gardener’s responsibilities would be. I like a clean home, probably more than many, but we were paying for someone to care for the yard not the house. I determined that left unchecked, we would be paying for part-time gardening and part-time house cleaning. Not acceptable. We made more phone calls to the company and this time I wrote the contract and laid out exactly what I expected. This morning, the president of the company stopped by the house in what I interpreted as an attempt to salvage the account. The gardener and the supervisor are now working in the yard. We shall see what happens.

July 3, 2006

Tomorrow is the 4th of July and not surprisingly, it doesn’t mean anything here. The guys on the project will work their regular 10 hours. There was a barbeque at the Ambassador’s residence this past Saturday but again, it was a regular work day for these guys so no one went. Anyway, happy 4th to all of you. I think the first holiday Ken will get off of work will likely be Thanksgiving or Christmas. By that time we will be weeks away from our six-month vacation. Yea!

On a pleasant note, I met an American woman who along with her husband is a Missionary here in Kigali. They are affiliated with Skokie Valley Baptist Church in Skokie, IL. Fortunately, she lives just a few houses away and we just connected right away. She's taking me to a local orphanage later this week to do some volunteer work. So, I'm happy to report that it looks like I'm finally going to be able to do something that I consider socially meaningful. Will keep you posted.

Keep those cards and letters coming!

Sunday Stroll…and an Incident

June 11, 2006

This past Sunday we got up and enjoyed a big breakfast as has become our custom. We planned to walk downtown and look at some of the shops. Before we left, I asked Ken if he needed to take his cell phone and anticipated he would say no, just leave it. Anyway, his response was “Take the phone because you never know when a colleague might be in distress and I just may be the one to receive the call”. The day before, he had attended a U.S. Embassy presentation about personal security while in Rwanda so perhaps that had something do with it. Well, that’s life in a foreign country so I tossed the phone into my bag and off we went.

The day was sunny and warm with a welcome mist of rain in the air. After an enjoyable uphill and downhill walk for a couple of hours, we decided to stop in at our favorite Indian restaurant, Minar, for lunch. The restaurant is located about a story or so above street level and you can sit in an outdoor area with an extensive view of the city. The food is excellent without fail, so I knew they would not disappoint. They did not; it was superb. We took our time, enjoyed good food and conversation then started the hike back home.

I guess we had walked about an hour from the restaurant and had maybe another half hour to go when we came upon a crew working on the road and decided to cross over to the other side. There were four lanes of traffic moving in two directions with a median in the middle. We crossed the first lanes, the median and then the second lanes to get to the other side. As soon as we got to the other side, a uniformed Rwandan guy stops us and says something in the local language. We later found out this person is part of the civilian defense force that augments the police department but have neither training nor weapons and they don’t get paid. None of us can communicate with the other but it’s clear he’s not happy for some reason.

Ken tells the guy he doesn’t understand what he’s saying and we start walking away. The guy then steps in our path, puts his hand on Ken’s arm and repeats himself. We now can tell this is about to turn into an unpleasant incident so Ken pulls out the cell phone and calls the embassy security person who had given the briefing the day before. At this point, I tell Ken come on let’s just go but Mr. Uniform was not having hit. He once more puts his hand on Ken’s arm to impede him and that’s when I lost it and shouted at him to take his hands off of my husband. Amazingly, he seemed to understand that.

Again, we start to walk away and this guy yells something to a group of guys passing in a truck. We’re cautiously walking along and here footsteps running behind us. We turn around and not only is this guy coming behind us but he has about six of his counterparts with him, two of them have rifles and there’s a police vehicle pulling up. Ken is as cool as a cucumber and I’m about equal parts angry and terrified of going to a Rwandan jail on an obvious humbug. Next, another local guy not in uniform walks thru the crowd and says in English that he’s a police officer, saw what was happening and stopped to see if he could be of assistance. I put in plain words to him that this first guy is detaining us and we don’t know why. Some dialogue flies back and forth in the local dialect and he tells us the first guy says we did not cross the street at the crosswalk in order to avoid walking on the grass. Naturally I wanted to say, “How the hell were we supposed to know it’s a crime?” Instead, I found the grace to say we did not know it was unlawful. After asking us where we were from, he says we’re free to go.

By now, the embassy security guy had figured out where we were (remember, no street addresses here) and picked us up in his truck. Evidently, he had contacted his Rwandan security counterpart who arrived shortly thereafter. We all drove back to the location of the first guy who had stopped us and the Rwandan security guy gave him what to my ear sounded like a good old fashioned ass chewing. The embassy security guy then gave us a ride the rest of the way home and other than my ruffled feathers, everything was alright and no one was harmed. I shudder to think what may have happened if one, we had left the cell phone at home and two, the off duty, English speaking officer had not intervened. So folks, the obvious lesson here is when you travel in a foreign country, it really does make sense to have the number of the American Embassy. Greg, the embassy security guy said if you get into a situation, the first thing you want to say is that you want to call the American Embassy and unless you really have done something major, they will back off.

It absolutely perplexes me to think that this country has such severe rules about defending grass yet they place so little worth on the safety of a child that there’s an elementary school next door to a prison, separated only by a flimsy wire fence. Go figure.


A History of Rwanda

The earliest known inhabitants of Rwanda were pygmoid hunter gatherers, ancestral to the modern Twa people who today comprise only 0.25% of the national population. Some 2,000 years ago, agricultural and pastoralist migrants from the west settled in the area. Oral traditions recall that prior to the 15th century a ruler named Gihanga forged a centralized Rwandan state with similar roots to the Buganda and Bunyoro Empires in neighboring Uganda. Comprised of cattle owning nobility and agriculturalist serfdom majority – the precursors respectively of the modern day Tutsi and Hutu – this powerful state was able to repel all early attempts at European penetration.

Rwanda became a German colony following the 1885 Berlin Conference, although it would be a full decade before a permanent German presence was established. In 1918 Rwanda was mandated to Belgium, which implemented a system of indirect rule that exploited and intensified the existing divisions between Tutsi and Hutu. In 1962, under Prime Minister Gregoire Kayibanda, Rwanda became an independent republic, an attainment marred by frequent clashes between the newly dominant Hutu majority and historically more powerful Tutsi minority, culminating in the slaughter of an estimated 10,000 Tutsi civilians in 1963.

In 1973, Major General Juvenal Habyarimana ousted the repressive Kayibanda regime, and over the next 20 years, the country’s political situation became ever more complicated due to simmering ethnic tensions exacerbated by events in neighboring states, several of which harbored significant numbers of Rwandan refugees. On April 6, 1994, Habyarimana died in a mysterious plane crash, sparking an already planned genocide. Two days later, in an effort to prevent the genocide, the exiled Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF) invaded the country, capturing Kigali on July 4 and forming a Government of National Unity under President Pasteur Bizimungu. Within three months, the genocide was all but over. An estimated one million Rwandans died over that period, and twice as many had fled into exile.

(source: The Rwanda Office of Tourism and National Parks) www.rwandatourism.com.)

Getting Settled

Genocide

I would like to know more about the genocide that occurred here 12 years ago. I’d like to know what happens to the survivors and how they cope. I look at people here that are half my age, knowing they were young teenagers during the genocide and wonder if they think about it, if they dream about it, how many loved ones they lost. What happens to the human spirit in the face and in the aftermath of such atrocities? I may never know or understand.

As friends and family, you all know that Ken is here working on building the new U.S. embassy. He came home from work one day and told me how the construction people occasionally unearth human bones and that when this happens the work has to stop immediately. Discovery of human bones, by Rwandan law, requires a call to local forensics authorities to come and claim them. Sometimes they find clothing; this is usually a sign that there will be human bones in the area. He seemed to take all of this information very matter-of-factly and as the reality of construction work in this part of the world. That exterior crumbled the day he came upon a single toddler sized girl’s shoe; no bones, no clothing, just a little girl’s shoe. He did not need to state the obvious to me. A little girl who used to run, play, sing and dance had been murdered and left on the spot where he stood. I’m struck with a profound sadness not just for that little light that was extinguished but at man’s inhumanity to man. Yet I feel hopeful when I sit by the pool watching different color kids from different corners of the world playing together, laughing and screeching in that joyful way only little kids can. We can learn a lot from them. All around me I see inter and trans-racial families because of adoption. I have no idea what the numbers are but certainly this country has huge numbers of children who lost their parents during the genocide.

Sunday Morning Stroll
A two-hour walk has become our Sunday morning routine after breakfast. We donned light comfortable clothes, packed water, the camera and headed off with no destination in mind. We walked up the ridge then down into the valley. Without being intrusive, we saw the shanty like homes some of the locals live in. Some of them did not appear to have running water or electricity. They looked more like squatter settlements than established neighborhoods.

Probably the most outstanding natural feature here is the hills. There are parts of Kigali that look like someone scooped out part of the mountainside and built communities. The main roads are away from the business district and you take side roads into the neighborhoods. Most of the streets are in extremely poor condition. There is red dirt everywhere – much like that found in some of the southern United States. Most of the homes we have been inside have white tile floors and no air conditioning. So, when you open the windows for a breeze, you also get a film of red dust.

Adventures in Grocery Shopping
One of the company drivers took me to “the market” today. It is an open air bazaar where you can buy some of everything. Upon arrival in the parking lot, your car is immediately surrounded by young Rwandan men trying to make a franc. They offer to carry your bags, help you shop, watch your car, or they just ask for money. Fortunately for me, I was with a Rwandan driver who got me through the human maze unscathed. After navigating the parking lot, we entered the market. This is where you can buy fresh produce and various non-perishables. They sell dry beans, flour, rice, sugar, spices, soaps, cooking oil, small appliances, bottled water and much more. The prices are not set in stone and of course to get the good price, you need to be with a local person who will barter on your behalf.

We also went to a few small shops and I walked away with a pretty good idea of what to expect from shopping here. They charge you as much as you are willing to pay. For example, I was looking for a plastic pail for cleaning. We went into one supermarket and the guy told me it was $12 US for a plastic pail! I realize things are expensive here but I simply could not do it. Later the same day, we went to a bakery/supermarket where they had the same plastic pail for $2.60 US. I have heard many of the expats here say if you see something you like in the store, buy it right then because it probably will not be there the next time you return.

Setting up House
We finally got moved into our house. This moving in process has taught me some valuable lessons about living in Kigali. It is common to have to pay the first six months to a year in advance on a lease. The next thing you have to do is hire a 24/7 security guard for your home. Electricity is paid for in advance. You buy a pre-paid card with a pin number, take it home and enter that number into your electric box and voila, you have lights. You check the meter periodically and pay for more power as needed. If you let your balance get to zero, you have no electricity – pretty simple. Unlike in the States, you never see an electric bill here. That’s a good thing since there are no street addresses. Yes, there are no addresses and no street names in residential neighborhoods. I know I couldn’t believe it either. If someone is coming to your home, you give the best directions based on landmarks. We have yet to figure out how to get a land line in the house, so for now we use cell phones. Unfortunately, that means no Internet. I expect that at some point we will get a phone and make the leap back into the modern world.

Satellite television is available in the city. Here's process: 1) go to the cable company and pay for the service (but be sure you take someone who speaks the local language); 2) pay for three months in advance, and 3) on the day of installation, someone from the cable company calls to tell you to come and pick up the technician and as far as we know, we are expected to provide tools. They don't give you an installation date, they just say "sometime soon".

I don’t know how, but a water bill shows up monthly. Presumably, someone from the local utility company reads the meter and leaves the bill with your guard. Trash pickup is once a week on Saturdays for 50 francs per month. If you are not from this area, you will not be able to drink the water. Bottled water is readily available in the markets. I saw our guard fill her water bottle from the outdoor sink this morning and I had to stop myself from running out the back door telling her not to drink it. Evidently if you grow up drinking the local water, your body can handle it. I am certain it would put me flat on my back if I tried it.

More Grocery Shopping
The driver took me to a different grocery store (LaGalette) this past Saturday. I was very pleasantly surprised. While it’s definitely small by U.S. grocery store standards, they have the best selection of dry goods I have seen here so far. Additionally, they have a pretty good selection of fresh meat (still no chicken) and frozen fish. I also found a decent selection of dairy and produce. Now that I have been to a number of grocery stores, I realize that the most expensive products are those that are imported from the States. For example, I bought a bottle of white vinegar manufactured in Rwanda for 500 francs; a bottle the same size from America cost 1700 francs. I bought peanut butter with the label written in what looks like an Arabic script for 1500 francs. On closer inspection of the label, I found a small US flag and small print stating manufactured in Seaport New York for American Garden Products (www.globalxport.com). I bring this up because the same size Jiffy brand peanut butter was nearly three times as much. So, the lesson for me in terms of economics is to buy products that are either manufactured outside the US or the ones that are made specifically for export. Don’t be alarmed, we really do have a good income and can easily afford American made products if I want them. My method of shopping just makes good sense to me. Fortunately there are not many Western grocery products that I “just have to have”, and that’s a very good thing since many items are simply not available here. We did ship a fairly large supply of toiletries so I am not concerned about running out of essentials like tooth paste, soap and deodorant. Okay, now that I think about it, my one “can’t live without it” food is Louisiana style hot sauce – and if we use all of the bottles I shipped I’ll be sending out a hot sauce SOS.

Dining Out
Our friend Scott (Ken’s officemate at the Birmingham office)recently arrived in Kigali to work on the project for a few weeks. The three of us thought it would be a good idea to get some dinner this past Sunday night. On the recommendation of an American friend here, we decided to try the Italian restaurant in the neighborhood. Understand that being in the neighborhood does not necessarily mean across the street. This restaurant is down the street, down the hill, down another street and of course has no address. By the time we left for dinner it was 7:00 p.m., already pitch black outside and we were unsure exactly where the place was. After a couple of passes, we found a sign indicating restaurant parking. Following the sign downhill, we entered a typical Kigali side street – no lights, potholes the size of small craters, huge ditches on both sides and of course we were driving a monster sized truck. Local people seemed to materialize literally out of nowhere along this dark, dusty road. We’d be bouncing along and out of no where, a man would suddenly be standing on the side of the road. Ken wondered aloud if the guy was practicing pretending to be a statue. After this went on for several meters, we came face to face with about half a dozen little goats just mozying along in the headlights. We took a quick vote and decided this was no longer a good idea and that we should get ourselves turned around and out of there. Ever the diehard, Scott rolled down his window and asked one of the statue people if where she was standing was the Italian restaurant. She certainly heard him, but whether she understood was another issue since she simply stepped inside the gate and closed it behind her. Italian food was not going to happen that night.

Plan B turned out to be an Ethiopian restaurant we had seen from the street. At least this time when we turned into the restaurant, someone was there to guide us to the parking lot. We sat at outdoor tables hoping this would not be the night we encountered a malaria carrying mosquito; they seem to be most active between dusk and dawn (but I digress). The restaurant had three power outages over the course of our dinner – fortunately they had a working generator. The food itself was not particularly noteworthy except that it did not make anyone sick and that means we will return.

City Services
Keep in mind that Kigali is the capitol city in Rwanda. When I think of the capitol of a country, I have visions of the seat of government, the place where the up and comings work and certainly a place with reliable city utility services. NOT! The city of Kigali regularly “rations” electricity and water (translation: withhold). We moved into the house last Sunday and the city’s water supply was on a total of one day. Fortunately we do have a water storage tank in the yard and I would guess it holds a few hundred gallons. Even so, it’s obviously not an infinite water supply. I made the mistake of watering the yard yesterday – today there’s only the barest trickle of water from the faucets (no bath today). We have no idea when the city will turn water back on. About ten or so years ago, the World Bank listed Rwanda as the poorest country in the world and if that ranking has changed over the last generation it’s probably not by much. With that in mind, consider that many if not most of the locals don’t have access to running water and certainly not an extra water storage tank. I don’t know where they get it but I see women everyday carrying water in big yellow containers.

We had an electric generator installed yesterday. The power has gone out once since we got the house. From what I understand, electricity is very unreliable here as well. The stove in our kitchen has two electric burners, two gas burners and a gas oven. The gas is butane and stored in a tank, so we don't depend on the city for that. Fortunately the temperature is mild enough that home heating is not an issue. Every evening beginning around 4:00 p.m. you start to see a smoky haze rise over the city as locals start burning wood for cooking the evening meal. We were still at the hotel when I first smelled it and I swore someone was smoking a boatload of marijuana every evening around the same time. Of course I felt pretty silly when Ken told me what it was.