Rwanda is...

I had a beautiful last post written; all about the kids and life here. Then my iPod ate it, wouldn't restart, and lost all my contacts -- and I am so sad because the writing was good and felt true. This is my attempt to recreate it: 

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Rwanda 

Rwanda Rwanda 

Rwanda Rwanda Rwanda 

Rwanda Rwanda 

Rwanda 

Drivers going impossibly quickly down steep hills and sharp turns, often in the wrong lane. Politicians who change policy without considering the lives of the people and programs of action that do not take into account the real-world consequences of their work. Mysteries of the 'widow-maker' live current showers and their often shocking ways. The discovered protocols of riding the white express buses to distant corners of the country. Neighbor children calling Auntie Grace! and waving when I walk by. The startling seriousness of children old before their time and yet their strong resilience and surprising joy. Dreaming vividly real dreams of home, then waking here under the protection of a mosquito net all around me. Cries of mzungu, mzungu, everywhere I go. The feeling of kinyarwanda on my tongue; all around me it's rhythmic sound. 

Kids kids kids. Everywhere kids, in my arms, on the stairs, outside my window. Children laughing, children fighting, children singing, always singing. Their laughter as I push them on the swing, throwing their heads back to look up at the clouds. The sounds of bare feet slapping on concrete as they practice dances to the thwack-thwack-boom of the drum. The laughter of the mamas as they teach me to dance; and my surprise at how much I actually pick up. Forgetting about Halloween at home then signing into Facebook and seeing babies dressed up as lions, spidermen, Dorothy of Oz. Children here standing up in church thanking God they survived the night. Children reaching to take my hands, and my hands reaching to tickle them. 

Cries of Bingo! Bingo! erupting excitedly from children all over the hill as a volunteer goes up to play with them. Children running down the hill, down the stairs, down the road yelling Auntie, Auntie Grace! when I return from a trip. My phone battery dying every time I want to talk on the phone. Dead phone, dead mice, dead truck. The tart taste of Inyange yogurt on my tongue. Children cheering when I show up with candy to study time, family time, anytime. 

The sound of early morning sweepers organizing the red dirt for the day. The bird who sounds like a toy who's battery is dying: mah mwah mwahhh. Chirps of SMS messages received and texts from home that make me laugh out loud. Trying to remember all the time zones at home - including daylight savings. The tired sound of the voltage regulator whirring as it compensates for electricity surges in the house. Everyone running to grab the clothes from the line as the wind whips through the banana trees, warning us of rain. The sound of marbles in the dust, as children battle out private wars. Children running faster than I thought possible down the stairs. The joy of children learning Red Rover and Freeze Tag. 

Cody calling Bibi! Bibi! as warning, cry, anthem. Flowers placed carefully on the van windshield by a child. Clothes covered in acres of red dust; and taking a shower and having half my 'tan' wash off. Driving to Kigali surrounded by black clouds of diesel fumes. 

The seriousness and the silliness of children challenging Papa Jojo to checker matches, on the porch and on the stairs. The joy of meeting old friends and finding new ones. Calendars that alternately show me just how quickly time flies and count down the days til I leave. A thousand memories in a single day and no photographs or words that could ever capture it all. A kaleidoscope of colours, sounds and love... My second home. 

Rwanda

Rwanda Rwanda

Rwanda Rwanda Rwanda

Rwanda Rwanda

Rwanda*

I will miss you.

*Poem borrowed from Alexander McCall Smith's 'Africa' poem of the same style.