Last day in Kigali (for now)

I  didn't get a chance to post this before we left for the Savannah:

Well this morning before the sun even had a chance to rise, I hear Ralph. Ralph you see is my enemy he is the local neighborhood rooster, and I am not a friend. Simply a foe. I am not much one for being an animal killer, but let me tell you. Ralph is one I wouldn't hesitate with. So he starts his squawking before the sun even rises because I'm convinced he is mentally challenged or a hipster rooster squawking before the other roosters do, before it was cool.

I like to imagine he looks something like this rooster, it makes my ridiculous hatred towards him seem more valid. 
So as I hear the terrible noises of Ralph, I start to have the image of being tangled in a terrible spider web rush through my mind. Don't worry guys, it was just the mesquite net…

So I head on down stairs, sit down for another delicious breakfast. But the problems begin to arise. I'm not quite sure if it's perhaps a language barrier, bet let me tell you I ordered my order at least 4 times before it actually arrived in front of me. Also the servers here can't wrap their head around the fact I don't eat bread, they don't get it. And everyday like clock work "No bread?" or when their is battered meat "No meat?" I always respond with. "No it makes me sick" and they always respond with a raised eyebrow, they never miss a beat. Today though we discovered that water costs money, Lily (one of my fellow field schoolers) was not a happy camper. But it makes sense, we get coffee tea, juice free but water is a no no. Beats me. Also on a side note I asked around and everyone else gets hot waters, so I've drawn the conclusion I just suck.

So today we venture to the cloth markets. I'm excited. Apparently you pick out beautiful Rwandan fabric and its made into whatever you want. I've decided I want pants and let me tell you that decision was not taken lightly. I may or may not have had an overwhelming freakout as which to cloth and what garment I wanted made for me for like an hour. So we all hop on the bus and head to the market.

Let me just start off by preluding that, I've been in uncomfortable situations. Plenty in fact. There are little to, well absolutely no experience that left me feeling as uncomfortable as I did in pulling into the market. We were zoo animals, we where stared at, pointed at, glared at you name it. And there was nothing we could do about it, there was no hiding our pale skin. And I've never been so uncomfortable being in my own skin, literally my skin color was making me uncomfortable.

So that terribly uncomfortable feeling started subsiding after I was convinced ever person in that market had looked at me at least once. You began to also hearing the word "Mzungu"which I found out means, foreigner/white people/tourist, being whispered through the whole market. That was fun.

These two guys really wanted a picture of themselves, and kept calling out to me "Sister! Sister!" it was weirdly touching and nice to feel like they included me as human as strange as it sounds.

So we make our way towards the windy paths, past fruit, fish and everything you'd expect to be sold there and more to a smiling face. Her name is Josephine. She welcomed us all with hugs, and smiles and let me tell you she is incredible. She helped me for 45 minutes pick out material and after when all was said and done, gave me my Kinyarwandan name, "Mbabazi". It means mercy incase you were curious. In this culture being given aname is kind of a big deal so that was exciting. I think she gave it to me because I got so worked up and kept apologizing for everything I was doing. She grabbed my hands and told me to breath, stop apologizing and that it was her job to help me. She is hands down an incredible woman.

While walking through the market, you would spot wounded people everywhere. I couldn't put my finger on it until I realized most of it must have been from the genocide. A women walked past me only about 3 ft tall, at first I thought she was a dwarf or midget but I realized she was missing her legs. Instead of being refined to a wheel chair she just was talking on her stumped legs. She instantly was my hero of the day.

On our way out we got in the middle of a crazy fight between two men, I got my foot stepped on in the mix up another classmate nearly got punched and we sprinted out. I have no idea what was said but the anger in the men's eyes was startling.

So we head back to the hotel and had an option to get off the bus or go to another market. I, not wanting to miss out on anything decide to go on to the next market. Mistake number one. Mistake number two consisted of using the sink water on my toothbrush later that night. But thats another story.

What was supposed to be an hour trek wound up being 3 hours, and I became so hangry. A term frequently used on this trip meaning "Angry because your hungry", it's a bit like a warning. A bit more like an excuse for a not super attitude. A good, valid excuse though. Not only did the trip take long but we hit rush hour on the way back. Let me tell you Rwanda traffic is nothing like I've experienced. Rwanda has this thing called "Tigo" and it's this big phone company that is as common as McDonalds and they seem to sponsor everything. Including what I like to call "Tigo Riders", instead of of taxi drivers Rwanda just has guys on motorcycles with two helmets and they pick you up and drive you where you need to go. It's insanity. Mid traffic we saw this tigo rider plow into the back of another and both passenger and driver fall over, luckily it was only about 3 miles an hour. Still hilarious, what was more hilarious was watching the businessman who was just thrown off the bike stand in the middle of traffic with his helmet as his tigo driver drove off without him.

Also on a random side note. Traffic lights in Kigali have a timer on them, for both green and red. You know how long till the lights gonna change, and how much longer you have to sit at a red light. I think they should exist everywhere-garunteed to lower road rage and tickets.


We come back to the hotel to hear the song "Waka Waka, It's Time for Africa" (if you don't know it look it up and just try not dancing to it) and as tired as I am, I gotta go dance. It was worth it. Tonight I became the ultimate enemy of mosquitoes. It really has become a practice and challenge to make it under your bed canopy without getting bit. I not only mastered it but I killed at least 3 misquitoes on my way under the canopy. It makes me feel very James Bond like.

We leave for Akagera tomorrow, and boy am I exhausted.

Last supper

Before the cloth market!