OK, so yesterday afternoon was interesting. I had been told the wrong time to arrive at church to help serve the food, so by the time I got there everything was finished. Mama Deborah wanted to speak with me though, so it wasn't a wasted journey. She told me that Isabelle had run out of food a few days ago, and that someone had broken into the house and stolen her and her brother's clothes. Come on. You don't steal from an orphan. It's just wrong.
It's polite in Rwandan culture to take a gift with you when you visit someone's house and I usually take mandazis, which are a bit like doughnuts. The shop I buy them from was closed, so I had to go into town to buy something else. You know you're having a breakdown when you yell at someone over a matter of 8p. I got a bike into town, but the driver insisted on over charging me. From church to the shopping centre should be 400f, but he kept asking for 700f. This annoys me. I have have been here for two months. I am speaking to you in your language. I clearly know how much it should cost. Why are you so insistent in ripping me off? In the end we settled on 500f, but I wasn't happy. This is silly. It was my choice to get on the bike; I could have refused and found another bike. I really had no right to be cross. But I was. And when he stopped opposite the shopping centre rather than at it, despite there being no traffic and a clear run to the other side of the road, it was the final straw. “500!” I yelled. “You charge me 500 and can't even be bothered to drop me at the right place! 500!” He couldn't understand what I was saying; he looked more bemused than bishoped but I was narked and could no longer contain it. (I think I’ve lost perspective. 100 f is 8p; you wouldn't think twice if you lost it in the UK, but here it seems like an awful lot).
And of course there were hundreds of people there trying to sell me Jeune Afrique and The Economist. Do I look like I read The Economist? So I throw myself onto the zebra crossing, which drivers are by no means obligated to stop at, to be met by another throng of people trying to sell me airtime. And the annoying thing was that I actually needed it because I had lent my phone to someone earlier that afternoon.
I get into the supermarket and there's a power cut, which isn't that bad in itself, it just served as a reminder of where I am. Africa. And I’m here by choice. I spent the next twenty minutes locked in the public toilets reminding myself of this fact, as I do quite frequently now. I am here by choice. And I love it. Yeah, I think it's culture shock.
Anyway, I went back to church to meet Appolonaire, and while I was waiting Suz phoned me. “The reason people want your money is because they're poor and they're trying to feed their families.” This made sense and put me in a better mood. We walked up to Appolonaire's house together and we sat down to pray. People here pray before and after they do anything. Quite often to my shame, I forget, which can get a bit awkward sometimes. I always feel challenged here peoples' faith and love of God. I don't Apollonaire's story; he didn't feel confident enough to tell it in English, but I’m sure it's not an easy one. (He is one of the boys IT took off the streets, and now he is seventeen). But he spent the next ten minutes thanking God for his goodness, love and provision. And he really meant it.
We had been there awhile when this umusaza came in. (Umusaza means old man. People here call you by your appearance, which is why I’m muzungu, white man). He had in his hand a painting which he obviously wanted to sell. To me. I explained that while it was a very nice painting, I didn't need or want it right now. He kept lowering the price, but I told him it wouldn't be right to pay so little for it. Sell it to someone else and you'll get a better price, I urged. But he looked at me and said, “Je suis artist. J'ai besoin de fumer!”, at which point we all cracked up in laughter and I handed over the money. So I got a cheap painting and he got some cigarettes.
I dropped the painting at home before going into town to meet Jash for the film. It was actually a really good set up. The restaurant had comfortable chairs, a white screen and a projector, which honestly felt very luxurious. We did have to pay for entry, two pounds each, but that included popcorn, which I traded for a soda. And we ordered chocolate brownies with homemade ice cream, with extra ice cream, for dinner.
When the film finished we walked back into the town centre to get bikes home. For the first time since I’ve been here (except for the children incident when Suz was here) I felt a bit uncomfortable. I haven't been out that late before, and the atmosphere was different. The taxi pimps were being really pushy and were getting all in our faces. They stopped harassing us when we got on the bikes though and that was that. The final event of the day was getting completely lost in my suburb. It was pitch black and Jash had directed the bike guy straight down the hill rather than round it. Of course we got lost, and my attempt to redirect him only made things worse. I live in quite a poor neighbourhood, it was now after ten pm, and I had no clue how to get home. There are guys lining the streets holding sticks and machetes. (This is normal; it's an agricultural community and people use them to work. The threat was perceived not real, but it was still unsettling). I’m confident that the situation wasn't as bad as it seemed, but the thought actually crossed my mind that this might be it, the end of the road. I felt incredibly vulnerable and was so relieved when I finally made it home. We stumbled across my house by chance. The suburbs here are a jumbled network of entwining paths and hills, houses and shops dotted about all over the place. We drove around in the dark trying to get back onto the main road to start the journey afresh when I recognised where I was, and a feeling of intense relief washed over me. Needless to say, next time I won't take the risk – I’ll get our driver to pick me up. Lesson learned.
As for Sunday itself, I went to church in the morning and chilled out in the afternoon. Probably. I can't really remember, so I doubt it was anything spectactular.
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