Of the strangest things that have happened to me my first week in Kigali, Rwanda, the strangest is realizing that men hold hands when they are friends.
During the week of waking up late and dealing with jetlag, one lazy afternoon I went outside to have a chat with Karangwa, one of our rotating security guards. Initially thrown off by his soft spoken manner, I talked with him about life in Kigali: his family perished in the genocide, he studied computer management in school and is surviving with his security job. I showed him pictures of Canada and Barbados, and he tried to tell me in broken English, French and Kinyarwanda about his life here, his girlfriend and work. He also put us in contact with a real estate agent, and accompanied us one day when we were looking at houses. As we were walking, he tried to hold my hand. I immediately shrank away from this, and only realized later when I saw men holding hands in the street that to do so was a big reproach: “I don’t want to be your friend, you’re just our security guard, so back off.” I felt bad, but don’t know how to get over this cultural barrier. A week later, we hardly talk, mostly because all he had in his eyes were dollar signs when looking at us: he tried to get a “commission” from us even though he did none of the leg work that real estate agents actually do.
Another strange, though humorous, incident occurred in “La Galette”, the German butchery/bakery in Kigali. I was trying to buy some chicken when one of the young butcher-ladies was motioning “you, me, go outside together?” I didn’t understand but when she figured out I knew a little French, she shouted “Je t’aime!”, which to the Anglophones means “I love you”. I laughed, embarrassed, and showed her, and the rest of the butchery, my new wedding ring. Everyone broke out laughing, and she did accompany me outside with my groceries. So I was hit on my first week in Africa, although for the wrong reason: when she helped me out, she saw a Mercedes parked out front and immediately thought it was my car. Was it my worn and scratched Timbo’s or my geeky digital watch? The Asian eyes? Hmm. Whenever C wants to tease me she threatens to leave me with the “chicken lady” in Africa.
Other than finding out at the wrong time that "droit" (French) means "right" AND "straight", nothing new to report. Just trying to find a house, learn more French, find a job and beat the damn jetlag. More updates and pictures to come.
