Bus Full of Tears :'o(

Kigali Bus Chaos

Awful day today.

I burst into tears in front of a whole bus full of people after being chased for money by a drunk boy lol I felt like such a prat.

The day started well. Went to work, computer held out for a long time today so I did some typing. Even got to do a brief bit of interpreting in AKR for Gerard and a person from the Health Ministry who’d come to find out what we do. That was good. But still haven’t got anything to actually do yet, so excused myself early. I had to go into town and get a cheque book so that I can withdraw money from my account. The bank is closed weekends, and I’m away anyway this weekend, so I had to go in the week. After that, I popped into the internet café to trawl GrantNet for potential funders in preparation for some projects getting underway. Doesn’t hurt to look.

Problem was that I hadn’t eaten again. I was so hungry, to the point where I had to stop and go in search of food. I went next door to the Trade Centre, which has a reputation for being over-priced and for muzungus. Indeed, I see more white faces in there in ten minutes than in three days walking to work and back. But I couldn’t think of anywhere else selling food, so I went to café Bourbon which is the posh coffee house in town, and is indeed over-priced. I had a latte and ordered savoury crepes, but Rwandans have a very sweet tooth so even the crepes and bread tasted sweet.

Wasn’t bad, though. Probably wouldn’t eat there again unless in a similarly desperate situation. Then I treated myself and went to the supermarket. It’s a bit more expensive than the one over the road from me, but I wanted to buy a water heater - like a big kettle filament - so that I can wash my hair in warm water. I don’t mind a cold water wash in the morning, but just now and then hot water would be a wonderful treat. I haven’t washed my hair in three days.

It was well timed because just after I entered the UTC it bucketed it down, but by the time I left it was dry.

Anyway, me and my shopping took a stroll to the bus station, which is something like bedlam with loads of these mini buses jostling for rank and everyone shouting out destinations. Last time I asked someone and they showed me to the right bus and put me on it. This time I did the same. This young lad took me to the right bus but, when I got on, he started pushing his hand through the window across the passengers, begging for money. 

I was a bit annoyed because I could have found the bus myself - next time I won’t ask - but figured I probably should give him something. I thought 100, but when I looked in my purse I didn’t have anything small enough, and I wasn’t going to give him 500, so I shook my head. Then he tried to get on the bus and was shouting so everyone was looking at me. I didn’t understand what he was saying, and I was feeling really guilty and panicked all at the same time. The bus started pulling off and eventually a girl next to me passed a 50 piece coin across. Someone passed it out the window and that’s when I burst into tears. I just didn’t know what to do or what anyone was saying. I was thinking they must all think I was a terrible muzungu woman.

Then a lady sitting next to me patted my arm and told me not to worry, and the lady, Angana, who had passed the coin turned to me and explained that the people on the bus were supportive of me and that the boy was drunk. She was so kind. It was just too much when I didn’t understand what was happening or what people were thinking of me. I was in shock, and tired from not having eaten, and from the heat as it was a very hot day. I felt even worse because, as a culture here, people don’t cry in public. They say there’s always something worse that could happen to them - meaning the genocide. Martine once met a woman whose foot had just been crushed by a bus and that’s the explanation she gave for not crying!

I got back to my house, locked the gate and just burst into tears again, feeling really stupid. Then, about twenty minutes (and two emergency cigarettes) later, Karen and her twin sister Jenny, who is visiting, knocked at the gate. 

She was just popping over to say ‘hello’ and introduce us, as she’s staying in Kigali for a meeting. Talk about good timing. She explained that she’d cried every fourth day for two months when she first arrived, and that I was doing well to have kept it together as much as I had. 

I also texted Martine and Paula (and Cassie & Graeme lol – kept my mind busy for a while). Karen invited me for Italian, Martine called and offered to come over and take me for a drink, and Paula (being further away) texted me. It’s all normal, apparently. Everyone had these moments in the first few months. It was just so unbelievably good to have the other volunteers about to tell these things to. I felt so much better after Karen had been. It’s just good to know it’s normal and happens to everybody, you don’t feel so silly then.

Anyway, end of day. Hopefully a better one tomorrow, and I have a hot water heater :op 

Hope the bucket doesn’t melt...