Kigali, Rwanda – Kigali, Nairobi, Amsterdam, Detroit, London. As I sit in Kigali International Airport with my departure nearing, I am struck by what I am leaving behind.
I have munched on my last succulent brochette skewered on a fresh stick of green bamboo in Nyanza. I’m done driving through the towering hills of Nyungwe in darkness (while standing in the back of a flatbed truck as the cold air makes my knuckles chatter). I’ve said goodbye to Richard, Daniel and Jethro – and to great staff at KCCEM. For now.
I’ve seen my last tropical rainstorm that sends people scurrying for cover, like ants. I’ve cupped my way through my last shower from a basin and breathed my last waft of a field of eucalyptus. As we passed, it shimmered in the sun as though it were winking. I’ve felt my way through my last blackout and spied the last of the swaddled babies poking their heads out of the backs of their mothers’ kitenge.
The ‘tea girl’ has brought me my last morning tea in my office and the women at the canteen will no longer ‘forget’ to return my change. I’ve quaffed my last Primus. And Mutzig. I’m down to my last remaining bills of ‘mafaranga’ and will no longer feel the buzz of the clippers at the ‘saloon’. And certainly not at foreigner prices.
The last wide-eyed child has stared at me, pointing tentatively while calling me ‘muzungu’. Followed by ‘good morning madame’ or ‘agachupa!’ or ‘give me money’. I’ve watched my last banal programme on Africa Magic television and finished joking about ‘mashaza’ and ‘My Sandra’. At least until the emails begin.
No more will I be stuck behind petrol trucks that struggle to inch up each and every one of Rwanda’s thousand hills. No more Impala minibuses. The sharp cut of horns to alert children and bicycles weaving onto the road will no longer fill my ears. I’ve driven the road to Kigali one last time.
I’ve seen the last of the low-lying cloud hanging over the hills and taken the last picture from ‘the spot’ in Kitabi. I've seen promise for great things from KCCEM. I’ve witnessed the final Rwandan vista whose beauty surpasses the last. Last day, last look at homes perched seemingly impossibly on the edge of hills, last pair of clean boxers.
But this is just the beginning.
I have munched on my last succulent brochette skewered on a fresh stick of green bamboo in Nyanza. I’m done driving through the towering hills of Nyungwe in darkness (while standing in the back of a flatbed truck as the cold air makes my knuckles chatter). I’ve said goodbye to Richard, Daniel and Jethro – and to great staff at KCCEM. For now.
I’ve seen my last tropical rainstorm that sends people scurrying for cover, like ants. I’ve cupped my way through my last shower from a basin and breathed my last waft of a field of eucalyptus. As we passed, it shimmered in the sun as though it were winking. I’ve felt my way through my last blackout and spied the last of the swaddled babies poking their heads out of the backs of their mothers’ kitenge.
The ‘tea girl’ has brought me my last morning tea in my office and the women at the canteen will no longer ‘forget’ to return my change. I’ve quaffed my last Primus. And Mutzig. I’m down to my last remaining bills of ‘mafaranga’ and will no longer feel the buzz of the clippers at the ‘saloon’. And certainly not at foreigner prices.
The last wide-eyed child has stared at me, pointing tentatively while calling me ‘muzungu’. Followed by ‘good morning madame’ or ‘agachupa!’ or ‘give me money’. I’ve watched my last banal programme on Africa Magic television and finished joking about ‘mashaza’ and ‘My Sandra’. At least until the emails begin.No more will I be stuck behind petrol trucks that struggle to inch up each and every one of Rwanda’s thousand hills. No more Impala minibuses. The sharp cut of horns to alert children and bicycles weaving onto the road will no longer fill my ears. I’ve driven the road to Kigali one last time.
I’ve seen the last of the low-lying cloud hanging over the hills and taken the last picture from ‘the spot’ in Kitabi. I've seen promise for great things from KCCEM. I’ve witnessed the final Rwandan vista whose beauty surpasses the last. Last day, last look at homes perched seemingly impossibly on the edge of hills, last pair of clean boxers.
But this is just the beginning.
1 comment:
Eewww, you had me right up until "last pair of boxers"..... Looking back, it's safe to say this was a successful, memorable, life-altering, fulfilling, "insert adjective here" sort of trip for you. And likely it looks as if the trip home will be just as adventurous as the stay in Africa. Hope it is a safe return, all connections are made, and you arrive in your 'home and native land' before long!
Cheers!
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