Continue my Quartz

Shukun Ma

Previously on "Thousands of Experiences in the Country of a Thousand Hills,” I rambled about my experiences in Rwanda, a picturesque landlocked nation. Before I realize, two months has gone by. It was time for me to continue my Quartz journal. (Quartz is a digitally native news outlet. I like the style.)

Before that, I have to say “don’t underestimate yourself! You will never know what you are capable of!”

By saying that I mean I am really surprised that I have been having the exactly same lunch for five days a week in two months. This comes from someone from China where there are countless food choices and one could possibly not be able to try all in his entire life.  I believed that I would at some point get sick of it; however, the reality is quite the opposite: I still have the craving for the same every day when it’s approaching noon.  Oftentimes, the thought of it is enough to make my mouth water, even at the moment of drafting this blog.

Now, my rambling starts:

Protest like a party!

In my limited knowledge and experience about protests, there are usually a mass of angry people holding signs and shouting slogans. I was surprised by how “merry” the protest was weeks ago in Kigali.

It happened when Rwanda’s General Emmanuel Karenzi Karake, the 54-year-old director of the country’s intelligence services, was arrested in UK as he is wanted by Spain on charges of war crimes, which date back to the 1990s. 

Hundreds of Rwandans gathered in front of British High Commission, demonstrating against the arrest and demanding his release. It was one-minute walk from where I stay; therefore I witnessed the entire process.

At the initial stage, there was the anger part that fit my “stereotype” of a protest. I remember that it lasted at most a day before it turned into a “party” after they set up a whole set of stereo on a pickup.  In the following three days, they played upbeat local music and danced to it or occasionally sang local songs.  24 hours non-stop. 

I am a big fan of dance. Whenever there is music, my body can’t help moving. It is like a reflex. When I was at the site, I encountered dilemma between my body and mind. My body had this urge to swing but my mind strongly forbid such move, shouting to my body that it was not a joyous occasion and that their dancing did not mean I could do the same. As a foreigner, I kept reminding myself that I have to be sensitive and respectful. One night, some bottles of beer with a friend relaxed my mind. On my way back home, my body beat my mind when I passed by the “party.”  I joined them and danced together with the protesters. They cheered.

Met someone beyond my imagination!

What if someday, someone you can only read about in tales showed up in front of you?

Growing up, I always heard of stories about a human child raised by a wolf, a bear or other animals.  To me, it was an entertainment like reading Tarzan of the Apes.  It rarely occurred to me that it is actually happening in real life, until the moment when an 11-year-old boy was sitting next to me in a bus, gazing at me with the purest smile I have ever seen.

Being a foreigner, I have gotten used to the intensive stares from local people. This gaze from the boy was different which made me want to meet but at the same time avoid.  I felt there is definitely a story behind that gaze I want to know but I am not sure if I could handle.  A little bit chubby, unusually dark in skin color and in white T-shirt and pants, he kept talking to me in a language which I was not sure whether it is a legitimate language.

I turned to my colleague sitting at the other side of me, asking for help to understand what was happening.  To my greatest surprise, she told me the boy was raised by a gorilla and was found and brought to human society two years ago.  He grasped the skill of walking upright not too long ago and is now learning to speak human language. What's more, he only wears white.

My colleague did not have a clue of what he said either. At every stop, the bus driver teased him by calling him “gorilla.” I doubted he could understand that. What he did was smile and talk in the way that only made sense to him.

After I asked more people about him, I knew that he was left by his parents in a forest during genocide as his parents believed that it was the only possibility that the baby could survive.  He did and I believe he is happy.

My little best friend!

So far, I have talked nothing about my work.

The company I am interning at is Nuru Energy, a social enterprise based in Kigali. It offers off-grid solutions to people living at the base of the pyramid without access to electricity.  The job involves a lot of trips to villages which is my favorite part. There I met with local villagers and tried to understand the impact Nuru has brought to their life. (Check out the FB page and "Like" it: https://www.facebook.com/nuruenergy?ref=hl)

Most of families in rural Rwanda are still struggling with basic needs.  Kids are wearing tattered clothes and walking barefoot on dirt path and in mud. Many of the households are able to afford one meal a day.  

I met this kid, Blaise, my little best friend, during one field trip delivering lights to families.  Like other kids, he was curious to see a Muzungu (foreigner or white people) and greeted me after morning classes. Later, he came back. Sitting beside me, he tried to talk to me with the basic English he knew. Communication was not smooth or effective. In the entire afternoon, he followed me wherever I went. He always tried his best to strike a conversation, even though I could not know how to respond. Sometimes he just stood or sat with me quietly as company.  He was shy but smiled a lot. Not like some kids, he did not approach a Muzungu to ask for something. From the occasional talk, I felt his strong curiosity and longing for knowledge about the outside world, even his country’s capital Kigali which he had never been to. Many villagers joked about us being best friends already.

It seems true on some level. It was not long and we did not talk much, but somehow I felt like we had known each other for long. From what I understood, he wants to be a nurse when he grows up because he wants to help people. 

Before I left, I gave him my phone number and UM name card. Since that day, he has been texting me through WhatsApp using different people’s phones. (That’s the case: many people don't have electricity but they have mobile phones.)

I know that someday I will come back to that village and meet my little best friend again. I know that someday I want to take him to Kigali, to United States, and to China.

Thousands of Experiences in the Country of a Thousand Hills

It was 5:30 pm on a regular day after work. The moto driver who provided daily transportation between home and office during the past month was driving me to a supermarket in downtown of Kigali. Another moto was catching up. The driver turned his head, winked at me while making a V sign with his fingers, and then drove away.

That’s usually the thing that makes my day, a simple smile that makes me feel warm inside. That reminded me of a conversation with a colleague at the company I am currently interning with.  On the first day at work, he introduced me pieces of Rwandan culture in which he said people are genuinely hospitable to each other, even more so to foreigners.  Local people see foreigners as guests who should be treated better.  That is also how Chinese people see foreigners.

That’s one of the factors that constantly grow my love for this territoriality small country in East Africa.  How time flies!  It has been an entire month since I set foot on this beautiful land of thousand hills.  It truly is. 

So many things happened within the month that built up the amazing and memorable experience.

Experience:

Like a celebrity or an alien?

This must not be new to foreigners who visit Rwanda. “Muzungu,” meaning “white people,” is the word local people, especially children, use to call foreigners when they see one. It usually goes with a long-time attentive stare and continuous follow around. I don’t remember that I have never been paid so much attention since I was born. It feels quite flattering, and sometimes overwhelming, especially when colleagues took me on field trips to rural areas. I was greeted all along the way, more than half an hour drive on moto, by children standing on the dirt roads, by women gathering crops and by men repairing roads. Sometimes, kids chased the moto, screaming “muzungu” while waving at me. The intensity almost convinced me that I am the first Chinese ever that has even been there or I am nothing they have seen before.  When walking in the village, I was surrounded by local people and was given a full body visual examination from head to toe.  From time to time, they talked to each other and laughed at intervals of stares. Sometimes I felt lost and just responded with a smile.

A month has passed.  I still receive the same amount of attention, but I have gradually gotten used to it.

Informal is the new normal!

The informal sector contributes about 55 per cent of Sub-Saharan Africa’s GDP and 80 percent of the labor force.  Nine in 10 rural and urban workers have informal jobs in Africa and most employees are women and youth.  Rwanda is an evident demonstration of the above statement.  Wherever I go, there are people carrying on their head a yellow water can, or a basket of vegetables, or fruits, or a pile of shirts for sale.  Some men take a plastic basket filled with bread or hard boiled eggs. There are also men selling self-made news digest collecting major news items from local newspapers.  Moto taxis seem to be the major transportation, shuttling to and fro on streets. The major transportation hub is crammed with private vans and buses vying with each other for passengers.  Agents of MTN, Tigo, and Airtel, major telecom companies in Africa, are lining up along major streets, selling phone credits to whoever pass by.

Streets are always busy. People seem to enjoy the hustle and bustle.

Fast and Furious!

For more than 20 years before coming to Rwanda, I had promised myself that I would never take motors as a way of commuting because, to me, the moment I am on a moto, I lose control of my life. I eat my words after I got to Kigali because of their cheap price, efficiency and easy access through traffic jams. Now moto becomes my only means of transport between home and office, restaurants and bars. I don’t have to wait for more than 2 minutes to get a moto. Wave, negotiate the price, put on the helmet, and hop on. Then the moto speeds off, so fast that my heartbeat raced three times faster with every passing meter. The good thing is that I can get to my destination without worrying about traffic. Moto drivers always find a way to weave recklessly among cars, buses and trucks running on narrow roads.

There were times that I enjoyed riding a moto. After several drinks at a bar, I felt like flying on a racing moto; when listening to music with strong beats, I feel like a really cool person.   

Fun stuff:

Rwanda bans lightweight plastic bags to protect environment. About one hour away from landing, flight attendant announced that all the plastic bags we had with us should be left on the plane before entering Rwanda. As a small country where environment matters particularly, policy is necessary and effective implementation is crucial.

Bromance is prevailing. Adult men holding hands or holding each other by waist while walking can be seen quite often in Kigali and rural areas. Colleagues told me that Rwandan people believe there are no homosexuals in their country and in their culture so it’s no problem for two adult men to do that. Holding hands is an expression of friendship. However, those who have been to other countries, such as South Africa, don’t think in that way any longer and could not bear the thought of taking another man’s hand.

Drinking matters. Drinking is an important part of Rwandan people’s life since history, for all walks of life. There are three major structures at the King’s Palace. One for receiving visitors and sleeping; another two for storing milk and beer. Commercials may be indicative of people’s life. Commercial posters or paintings are all over the country, whether it is in downtown or in villages where people don’t have access to light. Two types of commercial are there to be found: telecommunication and beer.