Raindrops on roses

A handful of concerned emails urging me to hang in there – while very nice, thank you – have convinced me that I should probably clarify that I do in fact LIKE being here and living my current life. I probably should have balanced my gripes with good stories, I see now. I feel like a politician qualifying a public complaint: “No no, I never meant to say that I don’t like corn from Iowa, I just meant, ah… I don’t eat it much… but really, it’s great… and so are cornhuskers!”

So here it is: Proof. A little collection of things that make Burundi (and the past two weeks) quite pleasant.

1. Dancing. So far I’ve been to two fantastic events that were in part so fantastic because of the dancing involved. The first was this big festival of peace that took place at a huge church in Bujumbura – the whole ceremony was in Kirundi so a very nice guy that I had must met translated for me. It was basically a bunch of different choruses and dancing groups and a few skits about redemption and good-person-qualities and it lasted way too long but the singing and dancing were quite lovely. The other event was a dote, which is the engagement party where one announces the negotiation of the dowry paid by the husband to the bride’s family. It was outside of Bujumbura about a 2 hour car ride up into the mountains. (The car ride itself was a whole experience that I’m still processing.) The family hosting the dote was crazy rich (the bride’s dad makes nails – and he must either make really good ones or a lot of them) and so there were performers there: drummers, singers, and dancers. The dancing was livelier here than at the church, the women jumped and fell and swooped their bodies to whistles and shouts. Part of me wants to be Marie Garlock so I can tell them “I’m a dancer too!” and then they would trust me and I could teach them and they could teach me and we could share our dancerliness. But since I’m not Marie but I am in love with the way their bodies move, I’m going to have to find some other way.

2. People. I want to take the time to properly introduce you to the people I’m growing more and more crazy about. They’re interesting and funny and smarter than me and most of them have funny ways of talking. These include Burundians and expats (Americans and other foreigners based here for work) even though, as I plan to explain in another post, the expat community still freaks me out. So until the details emerge, trust that the people I’ve met have been the highlight of everything so far.

3. The beach. I went to the beach for the first time yesterday with a bunch of young expats. We went to the nice one a little out of town, Le Club du Lac Tanganyika, where wealthy foreigners lounge around the pool and saunter from the tennis courts to the massage rooms to the shore. (Voila a peek at why expats freak me out.) It turns out lake beaches are a lot like real beaches, complete with sand and waves and bikinis and everything. We played ultimate and did handstands and swam in the lake and it’s the second deepest lake in the world and what’s awesome about swimming in a lake is that the water that gets in your face isn’t salty. Though you have to be careful swimming there because there are man-eating crocodiles in it. And I’m going to get to play on the beach until well into October.

4. Work! One day I won’t be an antsy 10-year-old who can’t sit still for 5 minutes, or even a presumptive 21-year-old who assumes that she knows enough for other people to trust her with responsibility. As my last posts attest, those aren’t true just yet, (though the second one changes next Monday, as luck – and my birth – would have it). The BLTP site is getting built and getting cooler and even more importantly, I’m soon going to have much less to do with it. AND I sat down with Liz today and we walked through how I’m going to start with my main project here, which is an evaluation of their trainings with the National Police Force. *Squeak: yay!* We made to-do lists and set deadlines and talked about methodology and discussed Adrian’s recommendations and it was heavenly. I’m smiling now with my loaded docket and giddy as Hermione with homework.

5. Running. I know. I almost don’t believe it myself. But I think I’ve finally found something that helps counteract the agony and silliness of putting your feet in front of each other quickly for a long time even after your body wants to stop and die. I get it from big groups of runners, I get it from the security guard outside the EU representative’s home, I get it from people waiting at the Coca-Cola stand bus stop, and sometimes I get it from little kids. It is the Bon Courage. The wish of strength that’s offered to me as I pass by Burundians, usually in shock and always amused, at a white girl running alone through Bujumbura. In the context, Bon Courage translates basically as “Keep It Up,” and people offer the well wishes in response to my cherry-red face that discloses just how un-used I am to running on these hills. The hills suck. Of course not everyone is so nice, there are the honkers and the hecklers and they suck too. But sometimes someone looks up, sees me, does a double-take, cracks a smile, and encouragingly Bon Courage-s me and it’s pretty cool. That, and when kids that jump in to run with me for a bit until I tire them out. I like outlasting little kids.

I’m sure I’ll post less frequently in the future but I’m so backlogged with thoughts right now anyway that I’m trying to clear some out while I still can. I MUST soon write something substantial about things that make Burundi Burundi. I’ll pretend to justify the delay in the idea that I’m not qualified yet anyway to accurately represent it.

But in sum, things are good. Full Picasa album of photos coming soon.

Mental pleasantries

This still isn’t a description of Burundi, not quite yet. It’s just my thoughts. Actually it’s not even that – it’s just the thoughts I know how to write down. So it’s about 1/100^th of my thoughts. An amuse-bouche of ponderings and a circumlocution of an update.

…..

My freshman year I had to make a website for the Chapel Hill-Carrboro Resident’s Council for an APPLES class. I got it done and was pleased with the end product, but pretty much hated doing it. Then, because student groups often fail to trick someone into doing it for them, I ended up maintaining 3 other sites throughout college. Didn’t enjoy a one and I’ve gained a great appreciation for those people who do that stuff for you.

So I came to Burundi and I’m creating a website.

But anyway, um, ah, yeah…

BUT, I declare that if I’m going to spend the day in front of the computer fiddling with navigation bars and producing poor translations and seeing beautiful weather outside but not walking through it, I’m damn well going to bob my head in the process. Yeah. Yeah!

So I went to see him again. He should be my new best friend!

And I have a secret weapon to help me do it. Have had since freshman year, after discovering that Hannah Poston possessed the most unique dorm room on the hall and probably on most other halls: Arabic phrases scattered on every wall, tapestries hung, clothes used as interior decoration, poetry poetry poetry, a bookshelf dedicated to magical books (truly magical), a smelly roommate, and the most perfect music possible. Perfect because it fit her, it fit her room, and it had all the sounds and messages that I had always wanted to hear but didn’t know how to find. And I don’t think she knows it, but I’ve discovered almost of all of my favorite music through her.

Down the river, down the road, Little Rock, Tokyo, dusty trail, Flagstaff, in a faded photograph, Thunderstorm, Golden Sands, Cape of Horn, Pakistan, Surinam, Highway One, Chinatown, smoking gun…

So she made me a couple of beautiful CDs. To this day, iTunes recognizes them as that: Hannah’s Beautiful CD 1 and Hannah’s Beautiful CD 2.

They’ve got the perfect put-you-in-a-good-mood-no-matter-what songs. A lot of girl music. Not girly, but girl – power girl indy-pop. The storylines cute and smart, the tunes a perfect backbeat for cock-your-head-to-the-side-and-chicken-bob-at-the-neck dancing. Think Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You, but with more soul. Or if you’re lucky enough to conjure this image, think Hannah Poston.

Minneapoliiiiiiiis. Minneapoliiiiiis. Minneapoliiiiiis. MinneAP-ah-lis.

I’m sweating like mad in here. I put deodorant in my bag today so I could put it on after I walked back to work from lunch but it’s not going to do any good. What would do some good is a change of shirt and a fan. And probably not bobbing to music– no! Not an option.

Meet me at the backshop baa-a-by, you’ll bring a little ukulele, I’ll take a reel, make it alright, let’s make a song on the eight track tonight.

Alright so the contact page is done and the partners page is pretty close, at least the images worked – good, but they’re not working when I try to publish them, and is that how you say “…while it’s under construction” in French?

There is a beautiful woman in the office now. A Burundian doctoral student from a UK University and a lovely learned British accent. She’s writing her dissertation on women in peacebuilding in Burundi. Hey, I like peace and women too! In fact I can think of few better combinations. I might have to hit her up for her results once she’s developed a few. Or maybe she wants to contract me to do some legwork.

Op, it’s time to go. Right then.

Thanks Hannah.

Develop this.

(Note: forgive the poor formatting. I'm new to this.)

So, good things happen here. It’s totally true they do. (I think I’m supposed to be writing about them, and I will.) But stretches of boredom happen too, and this happens to be one of them.

Today, pretty much any worthwhile work I have to do depends on my downloading a program. It’s not working. Pop goes the connection or whatever else and once again, I restart the download. And wait. 20 minutes. 1 hour. Yeah….

Okay, so maybe this just isn’t one of those days where I’m productive at work. In time, I’m sure I’ll have tons to do and look back on these days with envy. Collinsworth affirmed that I can handle adversity at work – I did in fact work for Save Darfur, STAND, and JP. But - even if useless and infuriated, I was at least active then. After a week of latency, I am getting pretty restless. This is the point in the car ride where I start singing really loud and squirming upside down in my seat.

The thing is, there would be a natural solution to workday boredom if I were most any other place. Just go do something. Right! It hurts, it’s so logical! I’m in a totally new country and there is so much I haven’t seen or photographed and I love to explore towns on my own.

Ah... right…. that’s exactly what I can’t do here.

For safety reasons and because there is no map of Bujumbura and I don’t have a clue how to get around and because I don’t know any place worth going by myself right now… I can’t actually go anywhere and do anything by myself. Nooooo, don’t let the muzungu out alone.

Sure, I’ve been spoiled: I’ve lived on one of the most beautiful campuses and I’ve traveled in the most beautiful city possible. I like Paris and Chapel Hill and Carrboro and the pedestrian lifestyle. I was very very used to going out on my own and very very happy to do it.

Too happy?

Could that mean… I’m just not a developing world kinda girl?

I'm not in Pfafftown anymore.

So I received this a while ago…

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You’re Invited!

What: Work at the Burundi Leadership Training Program, Learn about conflict management and Burundian politics, Immerse yourself in the dual worlds of (1) an expat community in the developing world and (2) the developing world itself, Take in the sights (Mountains and Beaches of Lake Tanganyika) and sounds (French and Kirundi) of this intimate central African town.

Where: Bujumbura, Burundi. The capital city of one of the 10 smallest countries in Africa (roughly the size of Connecticut, or Belgium).

Seated across from the Democratic Republic of Congo on the banks of Lake Tanganyika, the real Bujumbura can be sensed on its roads. The road surface varies from a few nicely paved “freeways” lined with periodic billboards, to stones inlaid in the dirt (think cobblestones unflattened,) to dusty streets UN vans and trucks overloaded with Burundians swivel around nonchalant walkers and cyclists carrying any and everything. Circling the town, walls and guarded entries stand in front of impressive houses (formerly belonging to the Tutsi elite, now occupied by expats), and in town leave your personal space behind you to walk through the throngs at the central market or down the sidewalk. Sidewalk meaning of course, side of the road.

When: August 14 to Christmas-ish.

After that, real life (read: work) begins. That is, when you get a job. Which means, more bluntly, you should be looking for one. Or someone should be offering you one. In case anyone happens to be looking for a smart, fun employee who’s been in Burundi. Cause you are and you will have been. Some people are probably into that. I bet.

Why: The country is at a fascinating crossroads of war and peace – or boxing match, if you will. In one corner, extreme poverty, a dense population, ethnic conflict, corrupt political leaders, no access to the sea and a pretty thuggish neighborhood… In the other, a brand new government and a slew of foreign groups trying to keep it on it’s feet! Who will overcome in this battle for peace and stability? Hop on over to find out.

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Hmm, interesting invitation, I thought. I do happen to have this interest in conflicts and conflict-affected areas that I picked up somewhere between Pfafftown and Paris. So when I walked into Virginia Carson’s office last September to say Hi and she handed me this, I thought Why Not? UNC seemed keen enough on the idea to give me a travel grant and that’s supporting me for a brief internship.

Et donc, voila. A week in, I've cashed the invitation in for 1 soccer game, 1 afternoon-long peace celebration at a lovely (and huge) local church, 3 days getting used to the office and its work, 3 nights out, 3 house guards, 1 cook, 1 gardener, $50 from a poker game, 120 malaria pills, plenty of papaya/mango/pineapple salad, and a healthy regular serving of Amstel.

I've been to much worse functions.