Phenomenal Weather

What do you consider perfect weather? Clear skies with a light breeze and temperature warm enough to forgo a jacket but cool enough not to perspire? A night so still and soft that the weathermen declare an air stagnation warning (they actually do happen, it warns that the air over a location may be so calm that pollution doesn't even blow away)? A midsummer evening's sunset with crickets and cicadas dueling for the loudest-critter-on-your-back-porch contest?

Those of you who know me know that I typically prefer the aberrant behavior of weather, when Mother Nature has a bad day and unleashes her fury upon us mortals. Yes, I can appreciate the occasional sunny day, crisp morning, and full moon. Though, if given the option, send a blizzard any day (especially in August). Both a light drizzle and an inundating downpour serve the same purpose, but the occasional torrent just feels more special. It's like asking if you would prefer ten packets of mayo from Burger King or an all expenses paid trip to the Hard Rock Cafe in London. At the end of it all, you ingested one of two equally unhealthy meals, but one ruined your day and the other highlighted it.

Due to my duty as engineer of the project, I get to oversee construction. When I say oversee, I actually mean ensure it happens and to a satisfactory standard. Thankfully, I have someone who hires, directs, and pays the laborers. But I still monitor progress and certainly notice when nothing happens. And here is where the dilemma begins. Either I get a day with weather that I love and hate or I get a day with weather that I adore and loathe. Allow me to explain. When the clouds vanish and the sun blazes down upon us, the project progresses because the men can dig and the internet functions. But if the heavens attempt to quench the Dante's Inferno, then emails cease as quickly as the construction. It's a daily, or sometimes hourly, battle between gratifying my wishes. Finish the project soon or appreciate the atmospheric phenomena.

Yesterday was a day of fantastic meteorological conditions, by any account or standard. For starters, the sun shone brilliantly, even endowing me with my first major African sunburn. Last night, Victor and I watched the western horizon drift from yellow to orange to red to black. But the final shift occurred after dark. I strode home at 8 pm under a crystal-clear, moonless night with only lightning to guide my way. Strange, no? The numerous hills had trapped a thunderstorm over the lake but the lightning continued to illuminate my way. And thus my sabbath began.



This photo is a jab at all you "Pollution Pansies" who don't appreciate side effects of adulterating our atmosphere.

Road Safety

Fluids. They provide us all with the life we have. Water is essential for us and and our food to grow. Oil furnishes the food with unnecessary calories, negates any benefits it once had, and can propel our Land Cruisers when fuel is unavailable. Petrol, radiator fluid, transmission fluid, etc. ensure our steel steeds do more than replace flamingos as garden ornaments. It's on these I would like to make a note. In America, when one of the low fluid level warning lights illuminates, or any other alarm for that matter, the typical driver becomes perturbed because of the forthcoming expense. Here, I occupy a passenger seat, but warning lights bring joy to my day. Why? It means nearly everything works. When I see a light, the issue is recent or rare enough that the bulb hasn't burned out. Similarly, the sensor might still work and hasn't been bypassed to save the annoyance. And so, what you consider a nuisance provides me relief.

Last week, I hurried to Kigali, which proved to be a frivolous endeavor. But I did notice something regarding the motorcycle taxis from the hospital to Kibuye and the return trip the next day. The distance is 30 km and one requires an hour to traverse. Computing the average speed is trivial and straightforward. Instantaneous speed is something I always wondered. Both motorcycles had working speedometers, the first two I had seen on bikes in all of Rwanda! However, both gauges were readily dispensable, but for different reasons. On the way into town on Thursday, the taxi arrived promptly at 8, and we departed. The driver gingerly attacked the road (if you can even call it that). Although missing the bus hardly worried me (indeed I still arrived 45 minutes early), the driver's cautious nature probably rendered the device useless because no laws (if there were any governing the path) were broken. Conversely, on the return trip, the driver made haste and mincemeat of the road. The gauge was of as little interest to the chauffeur as daytime soap operas to an employed person.

And now a story from a few months ago. Some may recall that in late November, about a dozen of the Gimbi-ites ran the Great Ethiopian Run. The night prior, most of us indulged in some (ok, a bit more than some) delicious Indian food. Feeling the need for exercise, we decided to walk back to our lodging, perhaps 3 km away. All was going well. Despite being foreigners in downtown after dark on the eve of a major event, we had safety in numbers. About halfway back, a police cruiser (which was a Land Cruiser) stopped and told us to get in. Odd! He was alone, asked our destination, and offered us a lift. Hesitantly, we accepted, but in no time at all, our compound welcomed us.

Finally, a much more recent narrative. In light of last week's failed Kigali excursion, I departed once again for Kigali on Thursday morning. Although the start was later, our bus driver fancied the accelerator. I met someone for lunch downtown, discussed project matters, visited the suppliers, and checked the time. Nearly 4 pm and I still hadn't secured a sleeping berth. I decided to try to acquire my groceries, it being the last item of business, and catch the last bus home, which egressed Kigali two hours later. Food for home- check, dinner before the trip - check, got on the wrong bus only to be warned five minutes before it left - check (I wasn't the only mistaken one). Darkness descended, but this is when many trucks operate. About halfway through the journey, we caught a dump truck, with a Land Cruiser Prado between us. Several blasts of the horn warned the SUV of the overtake. Then he cuts us off. More honking and more cutting off. The Prado brakes to a halt, always keeping us directly behind him. Because we are a bus, stopping in time was no easy feat. Immediately, the back door of the Prado opens, which sends the bus driver into fanatic mode. Throwing it into reverse, he prepares to make a textbook getaway...in a bus. The man who opened the door exits the vehicle and his clothing identifies him as a police officer. He chats with the bus driver, thanks the Prado driver, and piles into the bus with his comrade as if nothing had happened.

You may rave about all the places you have visited, lauding their beauty, and cursing the cramped space because your sibling overpacked. I am thankful to get there at all, because more often than not, the journey seems to occur on the precipice of disaster.

Holiday Season

Is it so strange that I should continue to be in the holiday season? First, I must report that the spirit of Christmas past arrived a mere 6 weeks late. Furthermore, the as yet unreceived remnants of Christmas past might well be labeled Christmas yet to come. But I must distinguish between my Christmas from Ebenezer Scrooge's visitors. While my packages exhibit a ghoulish pale white exterior, they do have substance and may be rent by knife, bear mauling, or crazed three-year old children in search of sucrose. Furthermore, the evidence lasts more than an hour, even if it's approach wasn't predicted by the chiming of the clock. But I am most thankful for the simple gifts which cost so much to ship.

But holiday season is far from over. Even as I type, the country is, as a general rule, being lazier than I, or perhaps more productive if considered in a different light. The foolhardiness of my ignorance began last week. My essential food stores dipped below the level I deemed acceptable. With other business to complete in Kigali, I proceeded to the capital, as done so many times. Being a Thursday, the usual bustle greeted me, and much to my dismay, a thunderstorm loomed in the distance. Despite my love of such precipitation, I had little shelter and a craving for carbs. A hearty buffet lured me into a haven, although I still received a bit of spray due to a window left ajar. With the bill remunerated, the stomach substantially stouter, and the rain having relented, I ventured out for the first and primary item of business. And what was that item? It was the dreaded "s" word - shopping. However, it was price shopping for electrical breakers, water meters, and pipe threading tools, which much better suited my disposition. A couple quick trips to various businesses satisfied my work ethic. I would have proceeded back home except that I wanted to meet with one more company, and my grocery shopping had yet to commence. The groceries could have been acquired immediately, but I saw no need to lug 10 kg of food to the end of the earth and back, particularly when the bus station sits one block from the store. My plan therefore was to hit up a cafe (preferably with and primarily for internet), do some reading on my new favorite app, and get an early start on the morrow. And so I did. The next morning, I walked the 6 km to downtown only to see the place practically deserted, something I had never seen. A few potential explanations came to mind: 1) SDAs have been wrong, there is a rapture, and I have been left behind because of my error 2) I am hallucinating because the sweat on my brow tells me I am quite awake 3) I stumbled into an alternate reality where peacefulness and serenity predominate or 4) the Chinese New Year doesn't only happen in China. As luck would have it, Friday was a holiday, election day to be precise. Ergo, all shops, banks, and businesses were enjoying the day much more than I. Thankfully, the buses and a few taxis still operated. In no time, I had exchanged my bus ticket for one two hours earlier and headed home sans everything I had come to purchase.

Why am I doing something non-constructive during the middle of a Monday morning? Today is also a holiday, election day part two. This raises more questions. Why do they need two holidays to elect their leaders when Americans are allowed a couple hours on one? Why split the election days with a weekend? How many leaders need to be elected? Does the voting actually have any bearing on who will hold the office, or more importantly, the power? Any retort would be purely conjecture with finitely many lemmas. This hasn't been just a one time deal. I greatly appreciate that Americans work long and hard in their lumbar-supporting leather executive office Lazy-boy chairs with Facebook constantly updating. Here, I too often see individuals engage in a profession for no reason except the salary. In the hospital, this removes much of the caring aspect which constitutes such an important role in healthcare. Despite my jesting, the desire of some people to take up a profession for love of what they do instills in me a need to set an example. What do I want more than almost anything right now? For my Christmas/New Year's/Valentine's/President's Day present, I would appreciate some project progress so my birthday isn't like the day all the Christmas credit card purchases are to be paid.