Week 3

So Last week I visited the genocide memorial here in Kigali. I'm told there's one in every

town in the country. It was really quite moving. The best way I can think to describe

it this: A few years I met a colleague at a conference and he told me he had recently

been to Auschwitz and Hiroshima and added the comment `two places everyone should

visit'. Add the memorial here to the list. There was one thing that really hit me that shouldn't

have made a difference but did. In one room they had clothing from various victims on

display. It was mostly non-western, no sports t-shirts or anything like that except

for one - a Cornell sweatshirt.

Ok.

Last Saturday I did one of my favorite things to do in a new city. I got on a bus

with no idea of the destination and rode it til the end of the line with the plan of

walking back home - it's a nice way to see different districts. Except this went

to the place Ihad walked to the previous night. So I decided to keep going

forward. I realized I was leaving the city. Off to my right was a big hill that

was undeveloped - no roads, no housing developments, but a few trails and a

few huts halfway up. So I get off the road and hike up the hill, every now and

then coming to a hut filled with half a dozen kids or so who never see a

mzungu (foreigner) up where they live in the woods. Then I ran into Fred

(see above). After a bit of confusion with me trying to communicate

in my tiny amount of French (French is much more useful than English here)

we realized neither of us spoke French but we both spoke English. Fred

volunteered to be my guide to the top of the mountain. The kids (not his)

followed along for the fun of it. They got a big kick out of seeing their picture.

Fred and I walked together for over an hour - he got me to a bus stand so

I could get home. He really wanted me to get him a job - I could only give

him my water bottle, some food I had and a couple bucks (real money here).

The mzungu thing is very real. People, especially small children, point at you

and call you one. And people try to overcharge you. A funny story:

I got a haircut recently. I asked a student I know where I should go. He

insisted on coming with me and asked the price. It was 500 Rwf

(Rwandan francs, about $1). When the time came to pay they explained

the price of 500 was for him, for a mzungu it was 1000.