I would give anything right now for this blog post to be coming from somewhere other than the same old Michigan neighborhood. The world is so beautiful that it hurts me. I want to be in it, instead of watching it go by.
The sky is Rwanda-blue and I'm sitting on the porch of my parents' house like I used to sit on my stone patio in the mornings in Rwanda. Every morning, I made two slices of toast in the frying pan from wheat bread with sesame seeds on the top, purchased at the Baguette in Kigali (I had to learn how to say, "the bread with the little seeds on top, sliced" in order to buy it), and put gouda cheese from Amsterdam on one slice and chocolate sprinkles from Amsterdam on the other. I made tea with lots of powdered milk (full fat; I told myself it was okay because it was the only way I got milk) and lots of sugar. I sat out on the patio every morning facing the lake, eating my toast, moving my tea periodically to keep it out of reach of the ants, and hoping that no one showed up to ask me questions about work until at least 9 a.m., when I started work.
The rest of the country started work at 7 a.m., because the government work hours were 7-3:30, but given that I worked out of my living room most of the time and often kept working until late in the evening, I figured I could pick the hours I wanted to work, and the hours I wanted to work were 9-5 and then whatever I needed in the evening. The problem was that because the government workers and our partner organizations started at 7 a.m., they would sometimes show up at my house at 7, ready to see some goats. But because they didn't make an appointment or alert me in any way that they were going to pick that day to show up at 7 a.m. at my door, I would still be asleep and they would end up calling the guy who worked in my office, who would call me in a panic telling me they were there and ready to go, and I would say, "I'll be ready at 9. If they want to go earlier, they can warn me in advance next time." (In fairness, I have to say that it was hard to notify people in advance. I always stopped in the day before to notify. But I had a car.) And then I would go back to sleep until 8 and be ready to meet them at 9, and we would spend the day climbing mountains to visit little goat stables and ask their owners how healthy the goats were keeping these days.
As I sat on my patio every morning in Rwanda, I would look up at the blue of the sky and feel the breeze and think, "This is the most beautiful place in the world." Michigan right now has the same weather, the same sky, but it's missing the mountains and the clear blue lake right at my feet. I think Rwanda still wins.
The sky is Rwanda-blue and I'm sitting on the porch of my parents' house like I used to sit on my stone patio in the mornings in Rwanda. Every morning, I made two slices of toast in the frying pan from wheat bread with sesame seeds on the top, purchased at the Baguette in Kigali (I had to learn how to say, "the bread with the little seeds on top, sliced" in order to buy it), and put gouda cheese from Amsterdam on one slice and chocolate sprinkles from Amsterdam on the other. I made tea with lots of powdered milk (full fat; I told myself it was okay because it was the only way I got milk) and lots of sugar. I sat out on the patio every morning facing the lake, eating my toast, moving my tea periodically to keep it out of reach of the ants, and hoping that no one showed up to ask me questions about work until at least 9 a.m., when I started work.
The rest of the country started work at 7 a.m., because the government work hours were 7-3:30, but given that I worked out of my living room most of the time and often kept working until late in the evening, I figured I could pick the hours I wanted to work, and the hours I wanted to work were 9-5 and then whatever I needed in the evening. The problem was that because the government workers and our partner organizations started at 7 a.m., they would sometimes show up at my house at 7, ready to see some goats. But because they didn't make an appointment or alert me in any way that they were going to pick that day to show up at 7 a.m. at my door, I would still be asleep and they would end up calling the guy who worked in my office, who would call me in a panic telling me they were there and ready to go, and I would say, "I'll be ready at 9. If they want to go earlier, they can warn me in advance next time." (In fairness, I have to say that it was hard to notify people in advance. I always stopped in the day before to notify. But I had a car.) And then I would go back to sleep until 8 and be ready to meet them at 9, and we would spend the day climbing mountains to visit little goat stables and ask their owners how healthy the goats were keeping these days.
As I sat on my patio every morning in Rwanda, I would look up at the blue of the sky and feel the breeze and think, "This is the most beautiful place in the world." Michigan right now has the same weather, the same sky, but it's missing the mountains and the clear blue lake right at my feet. I think Rwanda still wins.
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