the book of questions - or for what in your life do you feel most grateful?

now here's a question which at first impulse seems to be easy to answer; what popped into my mind instantly: my friends.

but then you start thinking... the fact that I have a healthy strong body that allows me to go anywhere and do anything? my education which gives me access to so many opportunties? the privilege of having been born in europe and into a wealthy family which has allowed me to grow up a healthy strong woman and has made it possible for me to choose my education and what I do with it? and suddenly it's not that straight forward anymore! and isn't this really a question about happiness? and what is happiness anyway; how do you achieve it?

now I would say that happiness is a state of being which you can only achieve by yourself; you have to find your source of happiness within - or else you will never experience it truly. but then who am I to determine this? I have experienced true happiness; this feeling of total calm and centred-ness, of knowing without knowing, without being able to explain, this feeling of wanting to explode into the world, burst into millions of little fragements to be able to be everywhere at the same time to experience the whole beauty of this world at once. but happiness also allows you to see the flowers along the way; to find something positive and beautiful anywhere you go and first and foremost it is a feeling completely detached from anything around you - you can be happy anywhere. but then that's my interpretation; I can be happy anywhere because I am priviledged and have a safety net and strong roots which allow me to grow upwards and out into the world - that's only possible because I am at the same time grounded.

and then - can you really be happy just by yourself? whilst I know that I for myself have to tap into my own source of happiness, I like to share it. and that's where the environment comes in - and seriously - is there anything more beautiful than to share happiness with those you care most about? to share moments of utter happiness with the ones you love is a magical experience beyond words.

so if I had to give an answer to what I am most grateful for in life I would have to say 'myself and those who made me me' - thank you!

Gym tonic - or aerobics a l’africaine

As you have probably gathered by now, the life of an expat in Kigali evolves mainly around eating and drinking and socialising with friends for want of anything else much to do. Eventually you turn into a slug and all that local brew starts showing... what to do? Jogging is difficult enough for me for reasons of discipline; add the hills and the smog from all the filter-less diesel engines and it becomes very difficult... ;-)) there is a gym at one of the hotels but that equally requires discipline and with my lifestyle it’s hard to build it into a routine – too many spontaneous outings and things always get in the way. But something must be done – there are no horses in Rwanda, so riding is out; cycling is out for the same reasons as jogging and it would just be a bit suicidal to cycle in this traffic where most drivers can barely manage their vehicles; yoga is too slow – well and for a long time there was nothing else.

But now it’s gym tonic instead of gin and tonic; they have started aerobics classes again at the novotel; Monday to Friday with the bouncer from the posh club. So I have decided to get back into aerobics again. Today I got there for 6 which is when the class supposedly starts. I’m there early and hang out in the training room waiting for the class to begin. Other participants turn up – one of them with her ipod plugged in, already wearing the weight-lifting gloves. She decidedly moves somebody else’s towel off her favoured step and prepares her bandana which she puts on Rambo style. Then she starts working out her arms using an elastic band. Others are still talking on the phone or chatting to each other. I feel slightly alien because I’m the one not wearing fancy gym outfits, I don’t have exercise gloves or a special workout hairdo. But I’m here to work my muscles, not my image after all.

The trainer turns up about 20 minutes late and whacks on the Congolese music which will take us through the class. And we start warming up our bodies; then we get on to the exercises which involve different movements on the step – first about 32 repetitions of one movement and then the same thing but moving around the step each time. That is the first challenge to master – how to keep going and not fall out of line. Then, adding to the leg movements you move your arms – there is a lot of swinging arms in circles and rather spontaneous movements, then eventually when you start concentrating on the arms too much you lose the feet – then get back in step with the rest – then your legs get tired and you start stumbling over your own feet, arms still swinging oddly. In all of this Rambo-woman in front of me repeatedly lets out screams of happiness that – were we not in Rwanda – would suggest she’s popped some e. Maybe I have not been doing this long enough for my brain to emit endorphins that would make me scream out with joy spontaneously. Another one stops the exercises because her phone is ringing and she has to answer it – people here are generally obsessed with their phones. Then she joins back in – the phone rings at least 3 times during the session. I am not sure how people can have a phone conversation when out of breath and with loud Congolese music blaring in the background.
By the time we get to the abs and finally the stretching part of the class the shirt of the woman behind me has slipped and her bra is more or less exposed; she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Another one left prematurely – the rest of us fight our way through a torturous abdominal workout. This time the music is ‘oldies’ – some lionel Richie and the likes – ghosh I felt old at this expression. The funny thing was the chillout music actually came from a tape – yes, a music cassette! I hadn’t seen one of those in use for years now... and tomorrow I will be in pain ;-)) ENERGY!

patience: vice or virtue?

patience - patience - patience - the neverending lesson of my life! I wonder how much of it do you need to avoid cardiac arrest at age 40; and how much is too much to not move on; to get stuck at the wrong end of a cul de sac? I do not have the answer but I am constantly trying to work out where my balance is...
and typically - just when you think you've worked it out, found a good spot to be - something throws you off balance again... I guess that's why they call it balance in the first place - it's such a fragile thing and you can therefore never really relax into it.

I admire people who can take the everyday setbacks of life as an expat with a smile every time - but I feel uncomfortable around people who constantly complain about absolutely everything and who expect everything to work just the way it does 'back home' (I find it is often not even a case of 'it' working or not; it's a case of having some place to long for which will always be SO much better than where you are).
are you really expected to take it easy when your car has been hit by a falling tree whilst the house is still a building site and there isn't even any water to make a cup of tea (the latter being entirely due to my own headless-chickenness)? are you supposed to shrug your shoulders at the news that you have to pay 200 bucks for taxes on your personal effects even though are really exempt from these by virtue of your job; but since no one tells you anything it got sent to the wrong address and will be another mission to get the money back?

I don't know - sometimes I manage to smile and shrug my shoulders at these kinds of things; other days I explode with fury because there are only so many of these moments I can take and I catch myself wishing it was all as simple as it is back home (which I know it isn't really - just think about opening a bank account or buying a train ticket in the UK; at least here there are no trains ;-))

but then I remind myself that it was my dream to work in Africa; that I chose to come here and that I can choose to leave again if I wish. that does not make me any more patient as a person - but it helps me to keep breathing and to not give up on my dream because of a falling tree or some tax bills.