Nothing you can imagine is as dark as a Rwandan night. Few streetlights illuminate our dirt road, and because many people live without electricity, they don’t have porch lights to help passersby see where they’re going. Moonlight helps, but last night was cloudy. The street is partially illuminated near our guesthouse, but as we make our way in the direction of our house, the street becomes inky-black. I can’t see my feet or where they’re going.
I suspect that before she left for the U.S., Arlene instructed the guards, John, and Etienne that they were never to allow Micaela and me to walk in the dark unaccompanied by a man. Last night after I was finished using the internet connection at the guesthouse, Olivier, a worker there, offered to walk me home. I accepted, knowing that even if I declined, he would accompany me anyway. Olivier has a little English and is very soft spoken and a bit shy about using his English. I had forgotten my flashlight, so the night was especially dark. (Micaela and I are the only people in town who use flashlights. Rwandans walk in the pitch black as if the sun were shining.) As we strolled along the street on the 6- or 7-minute walk to our house we talked only a little, with Olivier occasionally pointing to puddles for me to avoid.
We walked somewhat slowly, as is the custom in Rwanda. Without even a hint of alarm or surprise, Olivier mentioned slowly in his quiet voice, “Here is a cow.” Simultaneous to his quiet comment, I realized that I was about to run smack into a cow! It was less than a meter away and I hadn’t even seen or heard it. We both laughed at my surprise at narrowly avoiding running into a cow and then walked on.
I suspect that before she left for the U.S., Arlene instructed the guards, John, and Etienne that they were never to allow Micaela and me to walk in the dark unaccompanied by a man. Last night after I was finished using the internet connection at the guesthouse, Olivier, a worker there, offered to walk me home. I accepted, knowing that even if I declined, he would accompany me anyway. Olivier has a little English and is very soft spoken and a bit shy about using his English. I had forgotten my flashlight, so the night was especially dark. (Micaela and I are the only people in town who use flashlights. Rwandans walk in the pitch black as if the sun were shining.) As we strolled along the street on the 6- or 7-minute walk to our house we talked only a little, with Olivier occasionally pointing to puddles for me to avoid.
We walked somewhat slowly, as is the custom in Rwanda. Without even a hint of alarm or surprise, Olivier mentioned slowly in his quiet voice, “Here is a cow.” Simultaneous to his quiet comment, I realized that I was about to run smack into a cow! It was less than a meter away and I hadn’t even seen or heard it. We both laughed at my surprise at narrowly avoiding running into a cow and then walked on.
2 comments:
Very funny, and would be more so if I knew what a meter was.
Have you gone metric on us, girlfriend?
Leslie
You can't not go metric here when that's what everyone else uses. I know how many kilometers it is to Kigali, Kibuye, and Butare but not how many miles. I know how many liters of gas we've bought, but not how many gallons. I know how many kg of potatoes we need at the market, but not how many pounds. It's easy when you're immersed in it. BTW, a meter is approximately one yard.
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