Having patience isn't necessarily my strong suit. I want to be able to write emails now. I want to be at work and teaching, now. I knew good and well that I was getting run down this past week, and still couldn't get right with the idea that I could actually still be doing my job is if I didn't teach my scheduled classes and took a rest. After failing miserably several times on simple laboratory experiments after school each night, it never occurred to me that I might be making mistakes because I was tired and not because I haven't the foggiest idea what iodometry is (is that even an English word?!) No, instead of "taking a rest" as I was instructed to do by my colleagues (oh Lord, I've become my mother! :) ) I decided that the better solution would be to get away and visit my friend Rachael in Shyrongi.
Rachael is my wonderful roommate from our orientation in Kigali, and she now teaches in a small town called Shyrongi, about 1.5 hours away from my school. This past weekend, one of the other teachers from her all-girls Catholic boarding school was getting married, and Rachael, the token American with a digital camera, was elected the couple's wedding photographer. I was her date, as we soon found out, it is more of a faux pas than showing deference to the guest list if you don't bring your family, friends, and uncle's pet goat to a Rwandese wedding. The ceremony, a Catholic mass almost all in Kinyarwanda, lasted about 2 hours, complete with a period where the bride and groom received offerings from the 400 or so people gathered. After the ceremony, the reception was held in the school's great hall and guests were invited to take from a selection of Coke, Fanta Orange, Fanta Citron, and a few Primus' (a South African beer) while watching girls perform traditional Rwandese dance. The bride's father spoke in Kinyarwanda to the groom, presumably about giving his little girl away in exchange for whatever Athenese (the groom) was able to give for her, and the couple tasted their wedding cake, in a true example of globalization, by smashing it squarely into each other's faces. (Shortly thereafter, there was a mass exodus of faculty. Although the reception was still going on, Rachael and I took the hint and excused ourselves out the back door. As we peered around a dark side of the building, we could just make out the shapes of 10-12 faculty members of this very Catholic institution huddled around a crate of beer...)
When I arrived back in Musanze for church on Sunday, I was exhausted. You can get a bus going directly from Musanze to Kigali to drop you off in Shyrongi, but on the return journey, I had to take a minibus and a motorcycle into Kigali in order to board a coach back in the opposite direction. By Monday afternoon, I was obviously not well. "Jennifer!" my headmaster, a priest, said in a stern voice, "You did not tell me you were going away this weekend!" My tired mind raced to find a time when I was told I needed to inform him of my whereabouts. He smiled, "you are sick because you did not tell me. But next time you go away, let me know and you'll return in one piece. Now, turn around and go home." "I still have three hours of class today," I said, not sure if I was pleading to and teach or to be forced to rest. "Then finish your work today and rest," he said. "But know that the best work you can do today is have patience."
I hope you are well, know that I'm thinking of you, and that you have patience :)
Jen
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