A tuesday evening in Kigali – the wind is whipping dust and sand into my face and my hair is blowing into my eyes. Travelling home from work in a beat-up public taxi, stuffed in there with the rest of the population of this city. Stopping at the Novotel to change travellers cheques: the system is down, I find out. I buy a chocolate croissant, my concellation prize.
In truth, Kigali is not so different from any other place I am used to. I formulated that today on my second taxi drive home. It was the identification of a feeling I’ve had since arriving. That despite allt he superficial differences – the culture, the dust, the crowds, the language – something about Kigali seems normal. My body is normal here, it feels just like Canada. The climate is nearly the same as summer in Toronto. When I sleep and wake up, I feel normal inside. I don’t know what it is about Kigali, because I never felt this familiarity in Asia.
I am in the process of building some positivity into my work life. I am putting energy into it. I am willing it to be the experience that it should be, moulding it to teach me as much as it can in my short time here. And accepting what it cannot be, what it will not give me.
I am missing you all. Even if Kigali is not so different, the closest people to me still feel far away. Sending lots of love.