Thoughts from the past few days

Thursday – Writing Rachel

The light in the office right now, at about a quarter to 5, encroaches on unbelievable. It’s pretty hot during the day, almost at hot as NC summers, but at night is cools down remarkably. So much so that my runs are pretty pleasant and I don’t sweat TOO much. And right now is that time where the transition between African afternoons and light sweater evenings takes place.

The main thing I can say about here is I’m still trying to figure it out. It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t conjured a good description of what it’s like and what I’m experiencing because I cant quite tell how I feel or what it’s like. I feel like there are all sorts of things that I know but I just don’t know that I know yet...

Friday - Night life

I have been a terrible pool player since 10^th grade when my exposure to pool consisted of sleepovers at Julia Morton’s. And we didn’t play so much as we thought it was cool that she had a pool table and unfortunate that we couldn’t sit on it. From the looks of them, I think it would certainly be safe to sit on the pool tables at Kibira Bar but I did in fact play tonight and lived up to my own expectations of playing terribly. The table had small balls which bothered Matt from the American embassy; and I think the only reason he consented to playing on such an embarrassing table was because it was against someone sure to boost his ego by publicly displaying that she has the pool skills of a 10^th grade girl who sits on the pool table.

But the bars are fun. Crazy drunk French man who works at the UN danced with everybody to our great discomfort; I talked with the now newest muzungu Derrin who is applying to all the same grad schools as me and brought all the West Wing seasons I’m missing (plus all the ones I have); and Karen from the US embassy rescued me from a paperless bathroom with a pocket pack of Kleenex.

Saturday – Lunch guest

Liz invited her friend Jean-Petit and his 9 year old brother over for lunch. “Little John” studied business and management in college and now runs a kiosk near the central market. He takes courses in homeopathy twice a week so he knows more about nutrition than most Americans which means he knows more than about all but 10 Burundians. He is a good conversationalist, used to run track and speaks a fair amount of English.

After he left and I was still marveling at how impressive he was for knowing as much as he does, Liz gave me the backstory. Jean-Petit came to Bujumbura for high school while his family was living in an IDP camp outside the city. He took classes during the day and worked as a guard at night for Liz’s friend Georgina, alternating watch with the other guard to sleep for four hours a night. He took charge of his brother Fiston who was then 4 years old because it was too dangerous for him to stay in the camp with the rest of their family. Money forced them to move to opposite sides of city from each other and in that time Jean-Petit visited Fiston every single day to check on him. In Bujumbura, it gets dark at 6pm and to cross the city he would have had to pay for a bus or walk for more than an hour each way, in the time between the end of school and the start of work. His break came when a woman offered the two brothers two years free rent if he built an addition on her house so he built an upstairs room where they both live now. He started the kiosk he now runs with some capital from Liz and Georgina and has since developed a thriving sales business with enough revenue to furnish his and Fiston’s loft with a table and some other basics.

I know about work ethic. But I have no conception of work ethic in the face of adversity. The amount of ways to get discouraged… by just how hard it is… and still.

Sunday - Sitting

There is a really weird noise coming from the road outside and I think it might be a goat. We saw goats when we went up-country from I haven’t yet in Bujumbura. But I’m hoping this one found its way down the hills because I think I would be freaked out if anything other creature was producing that bleating noise in such a close proximity.

In other news: I had one of those runs today that reminded me why I hate running. I have selective writer’s block that has selected to take itself out on my would-be personal statements. I haven’t had a shower with hot water in a week. I have begun Kirundi lessons with the guards at our house. One of the sentences Serge thought important to teach me on night two was Urubatse? Are you married? I lost my winnings from the first night of poker and am starting back over at zero. Okay fine, at negative 10,000fBu.

Monday – Twenty-two

Last year I missed most of my birthday party because I was working on the STAND Projects and Events guide which, incidentally, turned out to be my last STAND MC project. This year I’m going swimming with Matt at the ambassador’s pool (the staff has the day off for Labor Day) and to dinner with new friends at a Lebanese restaurant. Aunt Susan sent me the words to my grandma’s special birthday song, our director Fabien told me we must go for une verre, and I’ve gotten a card, a text message, a wall post and a gchat of well wishes doing more than their part to make my day.

At dinner a couple weeks ago with Liz and some staff from CARE, they did a round of where they were at twenty-two. I was sparse on the details: when I will have been twenty-two, I was in this tiny African country.