Still Waiting

What is it about my pregnancies that I am required to go beyond what seems reasonable to wait? 44 weeks with both of my babies. And that amount of waiting, when you know that all that has to happen is the switch to be thrown suddenly, is painstaking. Believe me, it just is. And now here I am doing much the same thing. Waiting. For some supernatural force to come in and throw the switch so it can commence.

Veronique was there (which was unusual since it was raining. Raining? You say? What in God's name dies that have to do with staffing an office? well, in Rwanda, it is common for nothing to happen, people to not even come into work if it is raining. And boy was it ever. Monsoon. Paved roads turned to huge rapid red rivers.) It is hard to tell the reaction of Rwandenese. They are stoic, poker faced always until suddenly they laugh or give eachother five. So Veronique to me seemed unmoved, but according to the lawyer it was just the opposite and she said she needed to first scrutinize my document. She will do this "As soon as possible" which really means she has given me her word, but as to the when, which is what Americans want to know, that is left a mystery. Soon means maybe this week, maybe next. Maybe today. Who knows.

So, I wait.

And wait. Gods help me.

What is it that every Rwandenese looks at when I walk by them? Always they look at my feet. IS it that they are noticing my stylish Teva Mush flipflops that Nola has perforated as a puppy? Or are they taken with the sheer brightness of my pasty white skin? I think the later. I cannot make it down the street without gangs of kids saying, "Bonjour Donnez=Mois Cent Francs muzungu?" Or simply saying "Muzungu, Muzungu." The adults know better. They do comment though on how rich Muzungu are. The average income here is $250 a year. Namaharo at the front desk lives in a house with no running water and no power. He takes care of his small sister and small brother and has to pay for their food, clothes, schooling housing and his own all by himself. Namaharo would like to go to school so that he can get a good job (he would like to be a lawyer) but he cannot afford to since his little siblings depend on him. What namaharo needs to go to school himself is 2,000 dollars a year, US. I wonder if our community could sponsor him. We would be sponsoring three people in Rwanda for less than $200 a month. Is that doable?

I gave money to a woman yesterday. I vowed not to, because once I do, then they follow me around asking for it. But this woman had a brand new baby. And she showed her to me and asked for money. How could I not? So I did. The trouble I got into then was that everyone in my proximity had something to say along the lines of what a good person I was to help, asking for my phone number "Because I love you so much." said in a thick African accent. It took me 40 minutes to traverse a 15 minute distance. Everyone talking to me and asking for my contact info and tellig me I am a child of God.

There are lizards on the roof where I stay, and the same creatures run under the concrete that serves as a bridge everytime I step on it on my way across the ditch to the sidewalk. I live in a hotel in th ebusiness district, which affords a nicely paved road and a fancy hotel with wonderful African tea I have discovered, a patissarie and a swimming pool. So, I live in luxary compared to my friend Namaharo. His name means peace.

Namaharo was only ten when the genocide occurred. He has lived in Rwanda his whole life and will likely never have anything other than a meanial job if that. He is thin. Very thin for lack of food, and yet he makes a very good salary of $150 a month US. For three people.

Today I will go with a gentle Rwandenese Happy to the Genocide Memorial. I am a ee bit uncomfortable going with him, only because he says he reacts strongly since he was here at the end of the war and saw and smelled it all. I don't want to make it hard for him, but he seems to want to go.

So I wait. In the waiting is space, Scott wisely telle me. Space to become scared. Space to rethink things. Doubt.

Space to fight the doubt.

Blessings,
Jaya