Buggaaaaaiiiiii!!
Last night was scrummy. Went to India Khazana with Drew, Alicia and another vol (sorry! I keep forgetting her name! - short term and on her way home). Alicia and her friend are Aussie, Drew's American, and I'm British. It was funny how many jokes you can throw at each other, and how much every country takes the pish out of America lol
It was only my second time there, as the place costs a fortune. It's completely worth it. The food is outstanding and the atmosphere is wonderful. They have a waterfall running along one wall. I love the place.
I'd texted D to say 'if you want food, get here no later than 7:20.' By 7:19 I'm resigned, thinking I'll see him later maybe. 7:20 - on the dot - there's my man! I had this massive grin on my face.
It was a lovely meal, great company, and we rounded off with a wee beer at a bar round the corner.
Getting home proved more of a challenge. I had trouble finding a taxi, so Alicia, her friend, D and I were walking along the side of the road in the general direction of Kisimenti. Alicia and I were ahead, laughing our socks off about something. D and the other lady were walking behind, chatting, when we realised we were being tailed. Alicia and I looked up. Thinking 'it's not a taxi,' we just carried on walking.
It turned out to be the police! This lone officer gave us all a ride back to Kisi! I was thinking 'what a nice man,' but D reckoned it was reconnaissance. D, being Ugandan, speaks Luganda. So do most of the police, because they are Rwandese returnees from the RPF force, originally refugees in Uganda. Alicia and I sat in the back, still giggling, and D was up front with the officer. Apparently, he was asking whether any of us were French speaking - which is odd. I asked D: "What would he have done if we were?" - nothing, though it was interesting. We were all English-speaking, and got a free ride home, so everything ended well. Sure is nice to have a fella about, though. Especially one who speaks the favoured languages of Rwanda's police force :o/
Today was a trial. I went to the office, but the printer isn't working and D had borrowed my laptop for a second interview. They've asked him to take in some samples of his work.
There wasn't much I could do, and no one around, so I thought I'd go sort out my green card. This is basically the ID that you have to have once you become a citizen of Rwanda.
I went into town and found a 'Public Receptionist' (print/photocopy shop - loads of them about) or whatever they're called, and got my visa photocopied. Then I went to the Revenue Authority and stood in a long line for about an hour to pay my £5 and collect my receipt, which I then had to take to the District Office... Nobody could tell me where to find it. One tourist board, two motos, three security guards and four passers-by later, I was still none the wiser. I ended up phoning Martine, close to tears, to ask her where it was. It turned out to be a booth entitled 'Kigali Customer Services' (!?) right next to where I'd started! I could have screamed.
I wandered up to the queue-less booth, smiled my best smile, and handed over the receipt.
"Oh," said the polite young man behind the desk. "Didn't you know? It's moved."
The man was oh-so-very-sweet though, so I didn't lose it. I had to get another moto all the way back to Kacyiru, near the new American Embassy. They have rooms where you have to take a ticket and sit and wait, but none of the rooms tell you what you're waiting for. I eventually found the reception - arrived about 12:15.
Office for green cards closed at 12:00, come back tomorrow.
*sound of atomic bomb shaking nervous system - glassy flames rising in eyes*
I came home. I could feel my stress levels going too high to function, so I thought I was best to remove myself from the situation altogether and take some time out. I also hadn't eaten yet and was feeling it. So, I got a bisi back to Kisi and made a beeline for Chez Lando. More money than I could sensibly afford, but I knew decent grub would set me right again. I opted for fish brochettes, fanta and, to top it off, my first ever Rwandan ice-cream. First ice-cream since getting here. I'd been craving it for a couple of days, since the hot weather kicked in. It was utterly divine.
By the time I left, I was perfectly purring again. I returned home to find a young lad digging my garden. He's done a smashing job. It's someone D knows. Only a young fella, but really nice and polite. D was out, but the door was open and the cats were wandering about. It's good they get so much time out at the moment. The garden seriously needed doing, and the kid seriously needs a job. I'm discussing with D whether we should hire him as our long-term domestic and possible cat-sitter.
Maybe 2-3 days a week, helping with the laundry, cleaning, gardening and shopping? Three cats and a busy work and social life is making it tough at the moment. I was explaining to D that, back home in England, guards and domestics are mostly unheard of. Everyone does their own housework, but we have appliances that make it so much easier. Here, if I want clean clothes, I have to wait until the water is running then scrub for an hour or two. Back home, I'd throw it all in a washing machine and it would be done by the time I got home. Hoovers, irons, tumble dryers, dish washers, washing machines - all these things to help. Here, it's me and my two hands :)
It's not a big house and it's not so hard to take care of, but I find all my spare time is taken up with cleaning up. Why should I struggle when there's so many people looking for work? I put off hiring anyone mainly because of the bad experiences with my guards, but I was thinking of asking Alexis to find me someone. Seems D found me someone instead, so I think we should give it a go. Trial basis.
D had a pretty crap day, though. He hasn't got the software he needs to design properly and his ex-boss kept all his previous work on his laptop. He finally saw his boss, who basically said 'don't expect any money from me,' and told him the laptop had crashed, so all the work was lost. This interview guy wanted to see some of his previous work. D sat up half the night trying to do stuff with PaintShop. There's me being all positive, saying he should go anyway and explain... but it went badly and he was feeling pretty down. I shouldn't have pressured him. Things don't work the same here. Given the circumstances, I probably wouldn't have gone either. I'm really proud he did, but feel bad at the response he got. I think his work's really good, he's talented. But that wasn't the break he needed. We're going to try and get that software and spend the next month putting together a portfolio again. Then try self-promoting with flyers to the Embassies and major businesses, see if we can get somewhere that way. He has tried so hard, but sod 'em, only the first round.
Tomorrow I'm going back to Immigration again to see about my papers. By the time I get it done it'll probably be time to renew my visa and start the whole process all over again ;)
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