do you play badminton?

life is random - and sometimes I don't understand the connections that link my life to others, events between them and what the lesson is this time - but I am still convinced that most things happen for a reason and that you can learn something from any situation. the last 48 hours of my life, however, are not making sense and currently I just hysterically giggle at random intervals because my brain is not capable of dealing with all the events and emotions that have overrolled me.

on wednesday night I get home after having had dinner with friends - I realise that my laptop is not where I left it in the morning. I wonder if my housemate borrowed it - she hadn't. 2 minutes later she turns up - a significant sum of amafaranga - dollars actually - are missing; so is the professional camera. how is this possible? we have guards that we hire through a security company that are there 24/7 and the maid has left kigali to visit her sick aunt. we alert the night guards and they fill us in that the day guard had disappeared during the afternoon - no trace of him.

the scary thing was that the house had been locked when my housemate came home and nothing was moved nor was it instantly visible that someone had been inside and had gone through our stuff. a sickly feeling came over me - someone had actually opened my wardrobe and gone through my personal belongings; quite apart from the fact that they stole my computer which contained a large chunk of my life in words, pictures and music... when I found out that the guard and the maid had apparently been seen hanging out and smoking together I felt even more sick - the unexpected seemed to have happened to me. in the security advisories (the story about my organisation's security advisor merits a whole other blog and I don't even want to think about it or I'll feel like drop-kicking again) they always advise you to make sure that the guards and the maid are not related - and to avoid having the person who cleans your house also guarding the place - for obvious reasons. if the two are unconnected the likelihood of burglary in bright daylight is somewhat minimised - yeah, whatever.

anyway - when I found out that there might be a connection between the two I was overwhelmed by shock and for the first few hours I was incapable of feeling anything other than total consternation. it was totally unbelievable that this should have happened to us - I have always made a point of being respectful with my employees, of saying thank you for their work, of adjusting the maid's salary (she was already earning more than double of the guards as I recently found out), giving her stuff we didn't need anymore; only last week I spoke to management here telling them that I didn't agree that the guards who work 8 hours and those who work 12 hours should earn the same salary, urging him to take it up with the agency. I know that the world is unfair, the salaries in rwanda shit and the discrepancies between rich and poor huge - but in my own little world I have tried to be fair and respectful - and in exchange I get stabbed in the back - well thanks. I know this is nothing personal, that it was an opportunity and that it could have happened to anyone; in fact I am not the first person this has happened to - but still.

anyway - the worst thing about it is that very few people can ruin it for all of them; I am no longer prepared to offer anyone work in my house - I will start cleaning my own house and nobody except for my housemate will get a key to the place. and I really don't get the reasoning behind it; you won't find work anymore, you will eventually spend the money you have made (and it will last so much less than what you think) and then what? at least with a regular job, even if it pays peanuts, you have a regular income and you can eventually move on - I have been there; in fact I'm still in that position - I am currently selling my soul but because I know that eventually this will hopefully lead to greener pastures. and we are not talking about people who have never been to school - they all read and write, so they have a basis on which they could've built - but clearly not the sharpest tools in the shed. I swing between anger and disappointment and I am just glad that the security company is dealing with all of it so I don't have to confront these people - I never want to see them again!

ok - so much for that - so fairly livid we were on our way to the police as we were called to inform us that they'd caught the lady and were interrogating her; she's currently in custody. they had an idea of where the stuff might be - I'm not getting my hopes up. we knock back a couple of double spirits which in combination with the adrenaline that is coursing through our veines is putting us into a more mellowed out state after which we are capable of going home and talking to the landlord and the rep from the security services here. the rest of the evening we just hang out at home - we're just making dinner and chatting in the kitchen, still shaken up and slightly hysterical as we hear a weird noise. 'oh, it's probably the dogs' I say - the noise increases and it's the noise of a tree crashing down - we run out of the kitchen and onto the terrace (quite stupid really, considering we were worried the tree would fall on the house) only to see the absolutely gigantic avocado-tree from the neigbour's garden having decided to fall into our garden. it tore down the fence at the back and mainly caused all of us to jump. so there we are - just coming down off a day full of all the emotions of the rainbow - and then that.

do you play badminton?

being a muzungu

those of you who have been to east africa before will know about being muzungu (it's a kiswahili word and means foreigner; it seems to have a slightly negative connotation to it and people generally point at you and shout 'muzungu muzungu' usually followed by 'give me money') - it's not always easy to stomach it. I try to ignore it but every so often I think to myself - if I walked down the street in europe and pointed at an african and shouted 'foreigner' I would probably get fined for it - and to be honest I do not know what is so special about us white people here - after all we move in the same way and are not that different from the africans over all. I also totally dislike the image white people have here; there is always the assumption that you have more money than a person can spend in their life and people here have no shame whatsoever in asking you straight up 'give me money' - which I find annoying and I don't like this image (apart from the fact that I am not part of those expats that earn stupid salaries and can live like kings and queens here).

but being a muzungu is also fun sometimes and usually provides for amusing situations. for instance, on saturday I was on a mission to make my house more homely and for that I need a couple more sofas - so I went to the furniture market in town. as soon as I pulled up at the market I had about seven blokes surrounding me all chattering away wildly in kinyarwanda - just because I can say good afternoon does not mean that I understand the waterfall of words that follows from their end. so I shrug my shoulders, smile and say 'english' 'francais'? they say 'how are you sister?' 'fine thank you' - I say I want to buy a bed - no response - so I try to gesticulate a bed (a bit like playing sharades) - so someone nods and takes me by the hand and leads me to a pile of wood - I shake my head and say 'bed' again - we go to the next stack of wood - I shake my head again. so one of the blokes gesticulates that he knows what I mean and leads the way towards some little shops; I think - mmmh, he doesn't understand. we enter the little shop and try to see if the shopkeeper knows any english or french - in the second shop we find a lady who understands what I mean, she translates and they all explode in a whirl of understanding - one guy takes me by the hand and so we walk across the whole market hand in hand to a whole load of people saying things I don't understand and laughing, he answers and laughs back - I'm guessing they were saying something about us walking hand in hand (here walking hand in hand is a sign of friendship, regardless of whether it's men and men or men and women or women and women).

anyway - they show me beds - we're getting closer to what I want I think but the beds in question are double beds with elaborate headpieces (I'm looking for a flat, simple frame with a single mattress that will serve as a sofa) - I say that I want a smaller one, they show me the next one - still not what I mean, so I say smaller again - and they show me a baby-bed with the typical high fence-type finishing round the edges - still, I shake my head. so the carpenter kneels down in front of me and starts drawing designs in the dust - this makes me think of chambers' participatory methods where you use sticks, stones and leaves to map your community in the sand outside the chief's hut - so my studies have taught me something after all ;-)) I start sketching too - and somehow we understand each other and it turns out I will have to give him the measurements and a sketch of what I want and he will make it for me - it will cost me 100$ a piece - but that I will negotiate; I have learnt to cock my head and put on my puppy-eye look and usually I get what I think is a good price. we will see ;-))

and only a few hours later I was walking my dog along the lake in kigali - always a highlight for the dozens of people lingering in that area (this time they all watched me very interestedly as I was scraping dogsick out of the trunk). she takes a swim and two blokes who are working near the lake say hello and note that my dog is swimming - yes, I say. a young boy turns up and starts walking with me - at that point I am getting a bit tired of being the main attraction around. when he starts scaring my dog I turn round and tell him to stop it; at the same time I wonder whether he is just going to carry on walking with me - I'm getting sick of it and want to be by myself. after I tell him off for scaring my dog he stops walking alongside me and suddenly - I must have walked about 20 metres away from him already - I hear a stone dropping behind me, and then another one - it turns out the boy is throwing stones after me... I felt like throwing one back! It makes me furious to feel agression towards me - and I know it's not something personal - but in situations like this I do sometimes wonder what keeps me here, why I am doing this to myself? I don't know. these are the situations where I miss the anonymity of an afternoon in brighton; the fact that you can spend hours amongst people without being noticed.