chaos in the marketplace & other adventures
After work yesterday, we went with our housekeepers Chantal and Olivier to Gitarama’s local market. Sounds pretty simple right? Ha, wrong! It was our first and last time trying that out. Unsurprisingly, we drew a lot of stares being the only two white people among thousands of Rwandan buyers and sellers in a market that stretched over an entire hilltop. I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures since I knew my dad would want to see :) Haha WELL here’s what I got for being a good daughter! …
I was taking my third or fourth picture of Jessica walking through the market when suddenly this aggressive woman jumped in front of my shot. She immediately stormed up to me and started yelling in my face, getting heated when she realized I didn’t understand a word she was shouting. The racket drew a lot of attention and in a few seconds I was surrounded by a crowd of curious Rwandans. Olivier came up to me and said, “She wants you to give her money for taking the picture or delete it.” Well, there’s an easy decision – I turned my camera around and showed the woman as I deleted the picture. This made her even more furious somehow and the crowd kept growing. I finally just looked back at the woman and said, “I deleted the picture, I’m not giving you any money, goodbye!” and walked away with Jessica. Anyone who hadn’t noticed us walking through the market before was now completely aware we were there and they were staring us down even more obviously than ever. And I was completely flustered and annoyed that we were told it was OK to take pictures in public and there wouldn’t be a hassle. I put away the camera after that of course.
The attention made it difficult for Chantal and Olivier to buy fruits and vegetables without them raising the prices since we were a pair of “muzungos” (white people). Nobody bothered us though, and in fact they all smiled and waved as long as we showed we were friendly. Some of them spoke French and said “bonjour!” and other showed off to their friends by saying “hello, how are you?” It was very sweet.
A while later we were walking down a dirt road on our way back to the house, dodging women balancing full bags of flour on their heads and men driving motorbikes… When suddenly we see two guys on a motorbike going around 30 mph coming towards us, weaving through the throngs of people. We stepped to the side, but a man about 15 feet in front of us wasn’t so lucky. The motorbike honked behind him, he stepped to his right to try to move out of the way, but the motorbike swerved right too. We saw the incident happen like it was in slow motion. He went flying up over the bike and the two people riding it fell off. Before the crowds of curious Rwandans engulfed them, I caught a glimpse of the damage - the man hit had clearly broken his leg and his head was bleeding; the driver was trying to hoist himself off the ground while he vomited a pool of blood onto the dirt road; the other man was trapped under the bike and who knows what had happened to him. Needless to say we pretty much sprinted home, in shock from what we’d just witnessed. This is one wild country!
Today’s round of interviews was the first time anyone admitted to having HIV/AIDS, and in fact all three people I interviewed openly discussed it. The first girl I interviewed was incredibly comfortable talking about her life. She was my age (19) and was a single mother with a five-year-old son. Her parents both dead and her son’s father completely disconnected from his family, she has also faced child abuse by a relative and often stigmatization from her neighbors because they know she has AIDS. Somehow she manages to pay for her son's education and health insurance, and she is the president of Gitarama’s anti-AIDS organization.
Food highlight of the day: melting chocolate in hot water, mixing it with peanut butter, and spreading it on our pancake made of cornmeal to make the African version of a crepe with nutella. Anyone can testify I’m a horrible cook, but that was pretty creative, eh? Yeah, I’m pretty much Martha Stewart Jr now.
Sunday was also a really fun day that I forgot to write about earlier. At first we were kind of dreading sitting through three hours of a church service conducted entirely in Kinyarwandan, but it ended up being wonderful. For most of the time, dozens of children and adults sang hymns and danced. Their voices were absolutely beautiful and I was struck by how unselfconscious the kids were. Several of Mama Arlene’s little girls came over to Jessica and me, sat on our laps, and played with our hair – it was adorable.
Afterward we ate lunch at Mama Arlene’s home for girls and then played football (soccer) and tennis for hours on end with them and the boys. All the kids were so friendly and funny… I just wish we could understand what they’re saying! Before coming here, I realize that I’ve been able to converse in some familiar language like English or Spanish (and mayyyybe some French?) anywhere else I’ve gone. But here I know nothing beyond five phrases: Hello (muraho or bite), How are you (amakuru?), I’m fine (ni meza), and What’s your name? (witwande?) The end. Sigh. Not exactly the most exciting conversation, but something is definitely better than nothing. I want to venture into uncharted territory and learn: “I know you wouldn’t guess, but…surprise! I’m an American tourist!”
