When Can I Start?

19 January 2010

Rwanda entry: 9

I find it difficult to reflect on my experiences when those experiences are devoid of others. The past week has truly shown me the meaning of having others in my life, especially those who I care deeply about. I’ve never found it easy to be alone. Even in the most stressful, overwhelming moments, I find comfort in others. So when I spent five days in Kigali and Kampala last week, even though I knew that I needed a break and that it would be a good time to get some rest, I found myself anxious. I felt as if I had skipped over the bulk of my lifetime and gone straight into retirement. The climate in Kigali seems like that of a retirement community in Florida or coastal Alabama. The house I stayed in was decorated in a style not altogether distinct from that of an octogenarian woman who also enjoys floral printed, shoulder padded blouses. It had some African spice, and it is a beautiful house. Nonetheless, the experience taken as a whole was too close to weekday golfing and Chardonnay starting at noon.

Aryn and I flew to Kampala on Saturday night. We got to Entebbe (the airport 30 minutes outside of Kampala, literally on the shores of Lake Victoria). Our taxi driver, Godwin, drove us into Kampala, to the immaculately austere Go-ED guesthouse. In Uganda, you drive on the other side of the road. It’s like England, except, really, the driving thing is the only similarity. I couldn’t see Lake Victoria aside from the city lights that occasionally reflected off of its uneven surface. Kampala is much dirtier and vibrant that Kigali. Garbage is strewn and often burning in the gutters. Dirt blows across the street. Vendors offer their wares on the sidewalk without respect to those who actually want to use the sidewalk for walking. And I would recommend that, if you’re ever in Kampala, you use the sidewalk. I used to think that driving in Kigali was nerve-wracking. Looking back, it seems serene. Bota-botas (moped taxis) wiz by in both directions, sometimes coming within inches of my anxious arms. Close to the house, we went through what Aryn referred to as, “sort of the Red Light district.” There aren’t any brothels that I saw. Mainly just vendors selling electric irons without boxes and clothing hanging off of spike-tipped fences. There was a restaurant called “I Feel Like Chicken Tonight.” “Me too,” I said.

We called in an order for Indian food close to the house. Aryn asked Godwin for the number of the restaurant, but I’m fairly sure that he gave her the owner’s cell phone number. At the house, I eagerly ate chicken curry and that spinach, cheese square Indian stuff. I don’t know if it’s my excitement about being here, or reality, but I haven’t experienced a bad meal in the past two weeks. The words free range don’t really apply to Rwandan and Ugandan livestock, mainly because I don’t think that there is an oppressed range here (I guess I can use this as the opposite of free range right?). The food is fresh, flavorful, and bright. Tree tomatoes, mangoes, apples, bananas, pineapple- the fruit selection and quality is astounding. They only have these tiny bananas, untouched by most pesticides or growth hormones. They’re like banana concentrate without all the processing.

The next night, Aryn and I went out for Ethiopian food (as you can tell, the main focus of most of my days has been food). In Ethiopian restaurants, you’re expected to wash your hands at one of the many sinks that have been placed randomly throughout the restaurant. At this specific restaurant, there were little huts that served as dining rooms, and a large crowd on the patio watching a football game (see how assimilated I am, I’m already calling soccer football). There were sculpted rock formations over doorways and neatly thatched roofs. We ordered a vegetarian mix. Our food came in several small bowls sitting atop a spongy, sourdough flatbread. The server subsequently dumped the 6 or 7 bowls onto the large bread-covered platter that they had come on. There is no silver ware. You eat by tearing off pieces of bread and pinching up bits of stewed lentils, chick peas, cabbage, green peas, and spinach. Again, it was delicious and fulfilling.

I was excited that night for reasons other than food. Morgan and Rachel would be arriving soon. After dinner I sat in the house, watching illegal downloads of Dexter Season 4. Don’t worry, no spoilers. I was anxious to the point of delusion, walking across the room to look out the window every time something with a motor drove past. Finally, an hour after their supposed arrival, the bus pulled into the driveway. I never know what to do with myself at that point. But I ran outside to greet not only Morgan and Rachel, but a group of 14 students I had yet to meet. The bus was burdened with luggage, and the students were burdened with jetlag.

I suppose it’s given me more courage, having others here. I don’t feel anxious going out. Before I suppose it was a bit lonely to go out. I suppose it was also a little intimidating, being the lone mazungu. Perhaps it’s simply my personality. I enjoy having others around, to talk, to argue, to interact. To sum it up, my experience has changed completely in the past 2 days. As a group we have begun to explore, not only the city, with its gelato stands and fearless taxi busses, but also our own concepts of development, transformation, and poverty. I’m still not sure what poverty means. Is it soap and salt? Or is it something more? When I look to my future, I think of all the places I might go. I think of the people I will meet and the work that I will do. We talk about charity and aiding the poor. But how should we do that? One answer is through law. I believe that by developing accountable and ethical institutions of government, countries become able to increase their own capacities, sustainably (if anyone knows what that word really means). Still, how do we develop government accountability? When can I start? Is any of this possible for me? I now hope to attend a Masters program when I finish Hendrix. I am looking (by looking I mean thinking about and talking to people who are actually looking) at programs that have joint MA/JD programs. Maybe all of this is premature. Perhaps I myself am underdeveloped. I suppose I myself am developing, and the future isn’t static. But being here compels me, not only to think, but to do. I am prepared to confront the world, so full of ethical quandaries and moral dilemmas. And now I know that I cannot do it alone. Of course I knew this before. However, I see clearly now that wherever I go, whatever I do- the relationships that I cultivate will mean the most. If I can aspire to achieve something in life, it is simply to know others. And I can do that right now.