Assimilation, Difficulties?

15 January 2010

Rwanda entry: 8

I’m sitting in my new favorite place right now. It’s a coffee shop in Kigali called Shokola. I think Shokola means “taste it.” It’s an interesting mix of cultures here, as are most things in Kigali. There is an Indian rhythm subtely combined within a Rwandan frame. The small building contains nothing more than a bookshelf, a cashier counter, and a couch. This opens up into an expansive backyard with small cabanas and a massive canopy covering several cozy couches where you can smoke hookah. I’m working on my second macchiato and the night is coming. I finally have plans to go out with some of the people that I met through my research project. Good thing the expat community here is tight. All the mazungus I’ve met so far know the others. It’s almost difficult to get away.

I haven’t done much for the past few days. Being here by myself has been a bit boring. I go to bed around 11 o’clock and wake up at 8 for breakfast. I found a new fruit, they’re called tree tomatoes. Martin always ordered the juice when we went out. They look like tomatoes, and the insides are similar. They’re tart and juicy and delicious. Breakfast usually consists of one of them, along with some granola, or tiny Rwandan bananas (condensed flavor), or croissants (remnants of the French), and, of course, Rwandan coffee (superb). I usually walk to the Ndoli’s supermarket to get yogurt or cigarettes or Fanta. It’s only two or three blocks away. Walking through the densely populated streets of Kigali is unexpectedly enjoyable, just seeing all the different ways of life that comingle in this city. You see women in traditional African dresses, and you see others wearing used American t-shirts. I think I seem less like a tourist if I walk with purpose, wear my sunglasses, smoke a cigarette, and look angry. I’m learning more words in Kinyarwanda. I think that helps. I can actually respond to people without seeming utterly confused. I can hold small introductory exchanges: “Muraho” I say, “muraho, amakuru?” the doorman responds, “amakuru neza” I say in return, “I’m doing very well.” It’s simple but meaningful to me. I will take classes soon. Then I can go to the market and get something besides the mazungu price.

Aryn, the woman I’m staying with while I wait for the others to arrive, had some friends over last night. It was good to meet some people, to interact and be social. It was a nice change from the past few days of isolation and retirement. They weren’t even expats, which was a nice change from most of the people that I have spent time with since my arrival. They were witty, and funny, and we talked about film and smoked cigarettes. We played Apples to Apples and they didn’t get a lot of the words because “you must have to be from America to get that one,” like Pop Rocks. I tried to explain, to no avail.

The macchiatos here are only $2, and comparable to the $4 macchiatos you get at most American coffee shops. I go to Uganda tomorrow. There, I will lose all of the assimilation that I have gained in the past 2 weeks, but, if I’ve learned anything from my time here, assimilation is never too difficult. Weybahley (sp?). It means thank you in Lugandan (Swahili derivative). See, I already know something.