Moments of a working week

These ants might have a chance of driving me crazy. They are small and mostly appear in big numbers and at any place they want. They are hard to kill. Instead of trying to squeeze them to death one by one, I found that hairspray is a good means to get rid of them - at least for a while. I had biscuits in my suitcase and the ants found them, much to my disapproval. They also found our morning bread in the cupboard which has been relocated to a secret place now that they 

will hopefully not find, although I have my doubts about it. As soon as a bit a food drops from the table to the floor, they come with an army to conquer it. Even if that crumb is removed immediately, they will still come for invisible leftovers. 

This week, I went to the office for the first time on my own. Instead of taking a bus and changing the bus at a station of which I don’t know the name, I decide to take a motorbike. Once on the main road, the first problem is the lack of motorbikes. Usually there are a couple waiting for passengers at the junction, but not on that particular morning. The second problem is the language barrier. English is not commonly spoken among those drivers, French is better but best is of course Kinyarwanda which I am not fluent in yet. Asking for a ride to Kacyiru does not require a long conversation though and my wish is soon understood. However, the first two drivers don’t want to take me there for the normal prize. They want more. Beatrice has told me the usual fare and I am not willing to pay a special prize. So I wait. Eventually, just before driving off again, the third driver agrees. He is also the only one comfortable with English. 

I am learning Kinyarwanda - some words. There is still a long way to go to make me appear like a Rwandan woman, though. 

There are a lot of hotels in Kigali. I have been to two through work, because of meetings that we had there and now I went to one with Beatrice for shopping purposes. To enter the hotel, we have to pass a security check. Inside, we find a bakery, or better: a boulangerie, that has very french bread and croissants, sandwiches and nounous (minicakes). The bread tastes indeed really good. At the hotel, there is also a fitness centre, a saloon, a florist and a cramped souvenir shop. The parking place is guarded by a security man. I bet it is a rather expensive place to stay.

Another impressive hotel I went to this Wednesday is La Palisse. We have a meeting there to discuss the JADF strategic plan in a small group of people from different organisations, implementing partners like SNV and coordinators. It is a very extensive complex. Driving to the reception with the car, I see signs pointing out the direction to the sports area and the swimming pool. There are a number of conference halls, big ones and smaller ones and of course a restaurant. The hotel and its adjoined services are extended on a slope and we are only at the bottom of it. I am not sure how big it is all in all. A man is painting the kerb around the flowerbeds with fresh white paint. The conference hall we are in looks empty and cold with just four tables in the middle, the floor polished and the walls bare of any decoration. On a side table, there is tea, coffee and some small cakes. The windows are dark, allowing us to look outside but keeping people from outside look inside. The meeting itself is pleasant and quite interesting. At least in the first part, before they grow tired of it, the other eight attendants speak English for my benefit. I can even contribute with a comment to a chart about the organisational structure they are drafting and later in the working groups I can also add some things. Afterwards, I am invited to also come to those other organisations who work together with SNV on JADF. 

It is always dark when I drive back home with Beatrice because she is usually one of the last to leave the office. While we are driving, we are discussing topics related with work or other issues like driving lessons and traffic regulations or just listen to the radio. It is in Kinyarwanda, but Beatrice tells me what is being discussed. I see many people jogging through the streets and some of them I recognise by now. They are always the same we see. 

I find it interesting just to see what is happening on the streets. Every morning, the streets are swept by mostly women as far as I can see. Usually, there is a lot of traffic and you have to take care of the motorbikes that use the narrow space between cars waiting in a line to skip the queues. The traffic lights count down on how long it takes until the light changes from green to red or red to green, but often, you have to pay attention to the police officers instead of the traffic lights. It took me some time to realise that and I often wondered why they started driving when it was still 20 seconds before the lights would turn green. The police men are not easily detected if you don’t look out for them. Sometimes they just stand there and watch, but from time to time they also give directions, blowing their whistle and waving their arms to regulate the flow of cars. 

Friday evening, I decide to walk home from the office. Basically, I just have to go straight and I rely on my memory of the buildings and signs to find the way. I enjoy the exercise, although the air is a bit dusty next to the big road. I see a motorbike where the driver and passenger have almost no space between the chicken tied together between them, dangling down on the left and right sight of the vehicle. Also interesting are the police cars. They have an open loading space with two upholstered benches where the policemen sit. I also see big trucks that look like transporters for cattle but that actually transport people - again policemen in this case. They wave to me. Apart from them, only young school boys make comments when I pass. ‘Good afternoon’ from the shyer ones, ‘Hi, how are you?’ and a winking eye from the more courageous. The sidewalk is partly shaded by trees - avocado trees. As I leave the big road and turn to a smaller one with more shops, entering Kabeza, I notice women selling mango. It is the first time I see mangoes here. 

As I make my way down the road leading to the house, I notice the increasing pain in my feet. These sandals were probably not the best choice for a walk like this. Anyway, it was a good walk.