Saturday, January 5, 2013

The First of Many Days Ahead


I cleaned up bits of the mess I had made the night before and wandered out of my room to breakfast. It was immaculate. There was far more than I could have expected. The hotel has put out so much…and as far as I knew I was the only guest (I did discover there were two other guests as well). The woman caring for use was vastly intrigued by me and incredibly worried I did not like my options. 

Although who would not like fresh papaya, passion fruit, and pineapple. Or who would not want homemade omelet with topping.  First she did not see me eat pineapple and thought I disliked it. I had to reassure her I ate it. Then I left to find my camera and she was concerned I did not finish my coffee. Once finishing that she was bothered by the fact I did not touch the bread or cornflakes. Even after insisting that it was only that I was full I still had to eat a piece of toast. It was all intriguing. I knew that what you were served you should eat all of. I therefore, had carefully only taken an amount I knew I could finish; however, it was still not enough. That being said it was one of the best pieces of toast I have tasted.

The hotel quickly made me aware of cultural difference. The innkeeper was in my room talking to me and became fixated on my mismatched flip-flops. She quickly popped off her sandal and put mine on to see if they fit.  It was mildly amusing how much she like my $2.50 Old Navy Flip-Flops. If had remembered to bring 2 complete pairs versus my mismatched set I would have kindly given her a pair.

After enjoying my coffee on the porch and taking in the scenery Rafiki came to collect me and bring me on the final trek of my journey. For a city only 3 hours away thing journey was long.  We had a list of things to do and it was beyond overwhelming. First we had to exchange my money. This happen so quickly I had trouble processing was even happened. He asked me what it exchanged for and I could not even tell him. In a matter of seconds my $400 had turned in to over $250,000 Rwandan Francs. Was that a lot? What were the costs of things?  How much, is too much Francs to carry? These things rushed through my head as I hopped back into the car.

Next we picked up a woman and several supplies that would be make the journey to Nyamagabe with us.  Before we could leave the city we needed to stop at the supermarket because some times would not be available for me to buy in Nyamagabe. While we had stopped to pick up the woman; however, I had split my money up believe 6000Franc was more than plenty carry with me. I mean that sounded like a lot, although in reality it is only $9.40. In the supermarket it was hard to process something costing  2,500 or anything. It all seemed expensive. I walked out with 3 tomatoes, 1 green pepper, a bag of pasta, 1 onion, 2 potatoes, a small thing of milk, and a box of CornFlakes. It was 4,190. In my mind I could not believe I had just spent that much. Then I realized it was only $6.50.  I was still unsure of what I could purchase in Nyamagabe. Somethings I picked up Rafiki said to wait and purchase because it would be cheaper. Had I gotten what I needed? Would this surfice? It was too overwhelming to try and figure this all out while people waited in the car for us.

The long car ride began. We were filled to brim with supplies and what seemed like an overwhelming amount of luggage. The tried to communicate with me and laughed as I attempted to learn their language. Conversation was limited due to the language barrier but still filled with kindness. They stopped and purchased “Meatballs” for lunch, we picked up more supplied, and finally my boss. There kindness was incredible and put my nerves to rest. Although it quickly became accepted that Raghela was far too challenging of a name and I would be “Rachelle” instead, since I told them my name is Italian for Rachel. They have decided they are going to come up with a native name for me since I will be here for so long.

We arrived home finally. We pulled in to a gate building that is surrounded by barbed wire and a 24-hour security guard. The building seems far nicer than many of the huts we drove past on the journey. I have a lovely bed, partial fridge, running water, and propane stove. Home sweet home. I am given a set of keys and we are off again. Since I did not purchase much at the supermarket we must head to the village market. I have been warned that the vendors try and raise prices for the “White Man” since we are rich in comparison. This however, will not occur when I go with a native.

I laugh as they have asked me what I like to eat on the way to Nyamagabe so these items have made the list of things to purchase: eggs, avocados, and pineapple.  Carmen, my boss, and I climb out of the truck into a crowded area. She leads me through brick and dirt paths. I look behind me to discover I have a number of children following behind me staring. I am by far the only “White Girl” in the community. As I pass by they yell “White Girl” in their native tongue and more turn to look. I am eternally grateful to Carmen as the barters with the vendors and knows where to go to purchase food. She picks it out and I had over more money.  Small children who realize I do not understand them know enough English to tell me “Give Me Money”, while the other children continue to stare and smile at me. We pay a young boy to carry our bags as we wander through the market. I quickly learn I do not get to pick the amount I purchase. There is a minimum. I must purchase even if that is beyond the amount I want. I buy fresh green beans, green onions, cucumbers, papaya, mangos, passion fruit, and pineapple. Carmen then learns that I did not purchase oil in the city and we must trek to find this and eggs. The first shop requires 5,000 for oil that seems slightly off. However, I am able to purchase fresh bread and Carmen decides I must try some their food there. I am introduced to the “Meatballs” that my car friends had eaten earlier, and what seems like a spicy meat empanada, and spicy pita bread.  I was required to try one of each.  When I pick my favorite she purchases me another to eat. She had said they normally have a welcome gift for visitors but since I came as holiday was ending they had not had a chance. I told her it was far better that she had just helped me shop. We went our separate ways and Rafiki helped me with the oil and a cell phone.  

I was ready to be done shopping. I was fearful that I had spent an insane amount of money in a short period of time. How am I to survive this trip if I am just spending money like I did today? I laugh at myself now as I did the math when I arrived home I realized that although I had spent 28,000 Rwandan Franc in a day I had actually spent $44.00 including a sim card, cell phone, 1000 minutes, and food for the week or longer.  This is when I realized how much poverty really means. To them te 7.80 for Olive Oil seems expensive and too costly; however, and bottle that size would be more here and lasts for an extended period of time.  Furthermore, a “cheap phone” of 10,000 Francs to them is still pricey while to me it is merely a phone for under $20.00.  The disparity in living is ever present. It makes it even harder to not spare 100 Francs to the armless child, toothless woman, or crippled man that came to my truck window. I have to remind myself I maybe a millionaire to these people; however, in reality I am far from it and I can help them with my work rather than my money.  

Rafiki then dropped me off at the office and I was told I would see everyone Monday. The village was a short walk from the office. However, since I am unable to communicate with many of the locals and am bombarded by crowds a journey to the village alone at the moment seems overwhelming. Furthermore, the “Rainy Season” has struck and it now downpours outside. The light outside quickly turned to pitch black and the power continues to flicker. A trip to the village will have to wait for another day.

I look forward to time passing over the next five months were I am not the unique Americano in their village; but rather a “Rwanda” like my coworkers swear I will become since I am staying for so long.  As I sit here I am eager for the work and a way to pass the time. I am eager to explore and make friends in the community. Although these past few days have been overwhelming I am sure there are many more challenges that lie ahead. 

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