Working for the weekend – it has never been so true. Although, my mantra these months will be “Working for 18 December,” which is when I will be re-united with my Dearest. Until that happy day, however, it’s the weekend that gives the greatest pleasure. As opposed to life in law school, as a summer associate, or many of my colleagues practicing back home, we are expected not to work on the weekends. Yes, that’s right – not to work on the weekends. In fact, most government ministries and private offices end work at 1 p.m. on Fridays for employees to engage in “sport” (or some other leisure activity). Perhaps this is something the ever-increasing-waist-size American populous should consider . . . but I digress . . .
The weekend. My second in Kigali. After dinner at the house on Friday several of us expats decided to take a beer on the town at one of the more popular and upscale establishments – Papyrus. First lesson about Papyrus - if you’re taking a taxi or moto-bike, you have to say “Pop-ee-roos” or they won’t know where to take you. Second lesson about Papyrus, or any of the nicer Kigali establishments – expect to pay more, at least twice more, for what you’d get at a local bar. Granted, the food is generally considered to be better, and by better I mean Western (e.g. a stone-fired pizza oven at Papyrus). The restaurant had a rather large patio filled with about half expats and half locals, and a small dance floor that was jam packed like sardines in a can (which was altogether surprising given the ineptitude of the D.J.). It was a nice place to hang out, and to my greatest delight was situated right next to a cheesemonger – someone with whom I shall become familiar during my stay here!
After Papyrus, a couple guys and I ventured on to a Kigali night club – The Cadillac Club. It was about midnight, and the place was slowly starting to fill up. Dancing is dancing, or so I thought. Much like weddings in the U.S., I quickly found myself as part of a circle with my mates, and some local Rwandans. In fact, upon surveying our small group, the circle was comprised of most if not all guys. Okay then, we dance.
Now, I have spent some nights watching the television show “So You Think You Can Dance” with Janet, and it (perhaps wrongly) inspired in me some confidence that I actually knew how to dance. I would like to think that I held my own. The shock of the evening, however, was when, at one moment when I was dancing in the middle of the circle, a Rwandan guy moved into the circle with me. “Oh, yeah, I got this” I thought, remembering SYTYCD episodes where dancers “battled” with each other, a sort of rhythmic back and forth hip-hop fighting by way of dance. My new friend, however, had another idea . . .
So, it seems that, with a purely, shall we say, “innocent” intention, guys dance with guys, in a way that would make you think it was not, shall we say, “innocent.” How did I discover this you ask? Why, when I was taken by surprise by a local Rwandan who tried to engage in such dance with me. WHOA! It was a surprise. I politely backed off, smiled, and cried a little inside.
No, but really – it was a fun time, and interesting to experience yet another cultural difference while I am here.
Saturday was a relaxing but busy day. I spent the morning walking to the market in the Kimyoronko district with a housemate, Sam. It is a giant open-air (covered) market, with vendors of food, clothing, and other wares. On the shopping list were bath towels and an umbrella (to prepare to the upcoming rainy season). The name of the game is negotiation, and what a lesson. The rule, as I have come to find it, is not to hesitate to walk away. You’ll find someone to sell at the price you want, and the adage of “a bird in hand is better than none” is no truer than when you’re walking away with money in hand. I have to say I am quite pleased with my skills, and left satisfied with the cost of my purchases.
The rest of my day can pretty much be summed up with the phrase “beer and brochettes.” Lunch and dinner with friends consisted of beer (Mützig) and brochettes (goat) accompanied by either chips or bananas (chips are thick cut fries for the American-Anglophiles out there, and bananas are the starchy plantain variety, boiled or fried). A bit of time in between meals to watch British Premier League Football made for entertaining delivery of more beer, and a Rwandan house-party birthday celebration continued the trend after dinner, and well into the evening.
In total, it was a great social experience, and a well needed one to combat the occasional home-sickness that will hopefully occur with minimal frequency during my time here.
By the end of this weekend . . . a summary of my week at the Court and some exciting projects that are keeping me busy!
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