Senegalison

I was really anxious for most of the past week. My stomach felt like it was sinking and no matter how enjoyable my current activity was I wanted to be somewhere else. I made plans and my mind immediately jumped to how I would entertain myself when I actually got there, no matter how fun the place I was going could be. I have a job that I enjoy and that is relevant to what I studied in college, but my mind was all over the place there, too. I wanted to find some focus.

High on New Year’s resolutions and seeking calm, I went to a yoga class at a new studio in my neighborhood. I had to leave the office a little early to get there, which you would think would go against the spirit of my attempt to be more focused, but I figure d it would help in the long run. I walked to the studio in the freezing rain—treacherous enough for a delayed opening of my office and for my girlfriend to gloat over being warm and safe in her bed over the phone while I braved the frigid drizzle. Eventually I hung up when my freezing fingers couldn’t stand being exposed for another minute.

I arrived to the class just in time, and squeezed my mat in between two people who clearly thought they could space their mats generously and so that everyone else was doing down dog on the windowsill. I tried to push my ungenerous, non-yogic thoughts about them out of my mind, squeeze toward the midline, surrender my heart forward, and it actually worked! For the most part I focused and tamped down my sometimes-too-self-awareness and had a great class. I was floating on air when I left, and stopped quickly in the grocery store.

I have a thing for carbonated water. One of my high school coaches had us give up soda senior year during preseason and I don’t drink it much, but seltzer water really gets me going. I went to Harris Teeter to get a 2 Liter of this water of the gods, and it was two for one! Score! I bypassed the self-checkout (always a hot mess of other 20-somethings bumbling through their wallets) and went for the real line. That’s where my trouble began.

There were only three people in front of me. I compared the neighboring lines, but as soon as I saw an opening, a pudgy dude in an overcoat took the shorter line on my left. No matter. I waited. There was an older woman having a lot of trouble with the card reader in front of me. The bottles dragged down my arms so I placed them on the floor, as the line behind me grew and grew. The cashier walked around the counter to swipe the woman’s card for her—how sweet, I thought. After the woman’s transaction finished the register ran out of paper. As a newly zen yogi, I took it in stride. 

I am going to sum up the end of my Uganda experience in about five posts. This is Part One! I’m constructing these from my camera memory, my own memory, and my journal entries. You’re lucky—I’m subtracting most of the angst and complaining from my diary and just giving you the parts that are informative.

Whine, whine, whine, small detail, small triumph….

March was a good month for travel and shenanigans. I went to Rwanda for a weekend by Jaguar Coach to visit one of my favorite fellows, Stephanie. When I got to the station, I randomly saw my Administrative Officer’s brother who works in Kigali (or “Chi-gali,” as many Ugandans say), and we had a nice talk and I felt pretty good about the ride. Like, if anything happens, at least I had an acquaintance there to… protect me? Defend my honor? Who knows. After 14 hours, I found myself in the Chi-gali bus park. I really did expect to get to utilize some of my French, despite Stephanie’s repeated warnings to lower my expectations and my fellow fellow David’s expressed disappointment at the Anglophonism… but it was not the case. Kinyarwanda, English, or you’re outta luck. Oh, well. We’ll always have Dakar…

Stephanie picked me up, dropped me off at her adorable house, and went to work. Kigali was really green and really clean. And the bodas (motos?) carry extra helmets for you by law!

Friendly neighborhood conducteur du moto! This isn't my photo but I'm pretty sure I rode with this guy, it's all good. 

I had heard stories of how Kigali is clean because everyone volunteers once a month to clean the streets. I thought that was pretty awesome. Stephanie also disabused me of that notion, or at least helped me be more realistic. Apparently many families send one representative, their domestic servant, to do their street cleaning. And a lot of the work is also done by former sex workers who are supposed to show how reformed they are. Womp. Before our bus crossed the border from Kigali to Rwanda, very gruff women (who spoke neither French nor English) went through all my luggage to make sure I didn’t have any kaveeras (plastic bags), since those aren't allowed in the country. That goes a long way to keeping “the little K”* clean, too.

When Stephanie came home from work, we went to a really cute restaurant with the other fellow in Kigali, Kelly, I think it was New Cactus. The service was slow, even by Kampala standards, but the food was great and it’s always good to get a little PiAf bonding time. Plus, Rwandan beer is great, so we were entertained. I am team Mutzig, although Primus is also great.

La première bière du Kigali!

The day before I left, Stephanie and I took a mini-road trip out to Lake Muhazi. The bus park men brought us nothing but giggles (and over-attentiveness. But that’s par for the course/bus park/gare routière as a foreigner.) At one point, we were playing cards while we waited for the bus to come, and we literally had a crowd form around us. So there’s that. We went to a lakeside restaurant called Seeds of Peace, and even though we got rained on a bit, it was beautiful.

So much greenery.

I am so bad at landscape photography. Nate and I were talking about how you can never really capture that kind of atmospheric beauty without more training, and I really that that's true. Anyway, this is Lake Muhazi.

So as we were catching up, eating fried fish, and posing for photographs, Seeds of Peace suddenly became the place to be. First a big church service began. Then a wedding party filed in to another gazebo. Everyone looked really beautiful, and I felt awkward about being out of dress code (cargo pants are not exactly black tie.) We watched for a little while, before taking motos back to the bus park to head back to Little K.

Stephanie and I at Lake Muhazi. Isn't she cute?!

This one's for my grandma. Hopefully she also says "Isn't she cute?!" 

Other things happened in Kigali, too. Stephanie and I went to the Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre, which was really informative and obviously, sobering. I was interested in how they presented an overall history of genocides around the world, putting it in context. I learned quite a bit, like about German genocide in Namibia. There’s so much I don’t know about African history. But I’m working on it. I tried to earn my keep/stay by cooking Stephanie and Kelly some mutter paneer. It came out pretty well! Especially considering I was cooking in the dark, since the power went out. Most importantly, I got to see people I really like, and experience a new city. It’s always good to be around other young feminists, and Stephanie has some great books in her house. All in all, it was a great week!

I have a million photos (Easter, Rwanda, Zambia, Ssezibwe, last field visits) that I haven't posted or written about because...I have been busy doing them and not processing them. Or at least, cropping them for your viewing pleasure. So! I will probably do my last few updates from home, which is kind of lame but also, at least makes it so I can look back on them when  if I'm feeling nostalgic. 

Me: What are your fears, likes and dislikes, before we start this training?

Project Officer: My fear is nothing on this Earth. My likes are divine business. My dislikes are all things that lead to Hell.