So this past week has been amazing as far as gifts received. That may sound selfish, but it has not been what I received, but who and how I received them. My first package from my wonderful mom, Tricia, arrived just the other day. She sent it....in August. It has been an ordeal even after I knew it was in Rwanda. Mrs. Maxwell, our headmaster’s wife, goes and gets the mail twice a week. So she sees my slip in the mailbox, asks for it, and they won’t give it to her. Something about it being too...something. So she goes back and tries again, no dice. That time they couldn’t find their copy of the slip. She had our copy in her hand, but they wanted to have their slip as well. Then, I went up there. It was a Friday, I was running late for a lot of reasons, and was really looking forward to my package. I wasn’t leaving there without it. Well, I get to the door, its closed, and I ask the guard what the deal was. In reality, I grunted with a weird expression on my face and pointed at the door and said “parcel?” in my best ikinyarwanda-english accent. (Sidenote: Awesome southern accents do not mesh well with the local language.) He figured it out and pointed to the piece of paper posted. It was in the native tongue, so I understood all of 3 words. What was in english was “World Postal Commemoration Day” or something. The post office closed at 2pm that day - it was 430pm. All of a sudden my ears turned on and noticed the loud music playing. It was from inside the post office! They were having an office party right inside the door! I tried to peak around some other doors and see if they were having a rager back there, but I couldn’t see anything. So then a few days later, Mrs. Maxwell finally got my package. She didn’t say exactly, but I think she turned on the charm and was really sweet to them. She said they even apologized to her! That never happens. So, I opened my package and saw all great things. My mom knows me too well. I asked for many things, and she got the things I wanted most. I was significantly happier than I thought I would be. I knew I would be pretty pumped, but with all that work and frustration, it was really satisfying just seeing the box in my possession. All of the peanut M&Ms had spilled into the container. Trevor’s daughters were pretty excited to find them randomly in the box, so I said they could have them. They were so excited! I realized again how blessed I was to a.) have the ability to get stuff like this and b.) have people who cared enough to spend the time and money to get me these things.
I went to one of the many Co-ops in Kigali yesterday. This one was across the street from Nakumatt (Kigali’s Wally World). The trip there was half the fun. We hitched a ride with some friends half way because it was going to rain. When they were about to take their turn to a different part of the city, we hopped out. We decided to be real Rwandese and walk the rest of the way. It was actually really nice. I felt like I was really part of Rwanda. Walking through the city, passing by many citizens as they go from place to place, seeing the sun break through the clouds over the hills for a moment. We made it most of the way when the real rain started coming down. We had to run underneath a random awning on the side of the road and let it pass. It was really nice, actually. Time just kind of stopped.
Each shop was pretty much the same, except for a few different pieces in each one. Wood statues of animals and people, baskets, necklaces, bracelets, etc. I did find a pair of slippers at one place. They felt really comfortable. I caught myself skimming over a lot of the pieces when I realized that I have the unique opportunity to experience this stuff in a very unique way. In real shops, with real people, in the real place that it was made. Not out of a catalog, or IKEA. Later, I saw a couple wooden bowls that would look cool, a bracelet for my mom, and then I came across two incredible pieces. The first was a ceremonial shield from the Congo. My roommate is the friends with the owner of this particular shop, so I trusted him to tell me the truth. He told me of the general area, tribe, and ceremonies in which it was used. I am claiming its legit because if its fake, somebody took a long time to fake it! The other piece was a large wood carving. It stretches around 4 feet in length, about a foot and a half tall, and an inch thick. It has a beautifully, detailed carving of an African scene on it. This pieces story is a bit more simple. Abraham, the shopkeeper’s name, says he got it from his dad’s house. The creator of this piece? His granddad. I discussed price with him and bartered a bit, and ended up getting a pretty darn good price for those two pieces i will cherish for a long time. And it’s really not even the fact that I can say, “I have these, look how awesome they are”, even though I probably will. It’s the incredible story behind them and the fact that I get to be a part of this art’s history now. I felt privileged to own them, really. Now, just to figure out how to get the big piece back Stateside without breaking it.
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