Falling in Love Again

It's 7AM. I've been up 2 hours now ready to begin writing about this new land and its people that has gripped my heart and won't let go. With a lump in my throat, stopping to dab my eyes from seeing the constant flow of images across my mind, I remember. Birds singing new songs I've never heard before with colors splashed across their feathers, fruit trees in abundance showing forth avocado, papaya, pineapple, banana, passion fruit and more. Flowers, greenery, hills, sky, city lights, turkeys gobbling, cranes flying overhead and landing with their distinct call and crowning feathers mix with the quiet dignity of men, women and children dressed in so much color exuding so much beauty, my senses and emotions are overloaded at all times. I am in a big city with many people, buses, motorcycles yet with little noise. The honking of horns in busy traffic is the only sound I hear. People crowd on buses, share seats among five when only made for three, pass one another's payment up to the hands that collect it as well as the change due back again and need very little personal space. On our way home one evening, our friend handed some change out the bus window to a popcorn vendor on the street, brought two bags back through and passed them back to us and then on to everyone on the bus to enjoy. A young girl around 12 squeezed in beside Scott and myself on her left and between others on her right one afternoon and began to visit with him off and on until she reached her bus stop. Another time, a young man rested his elbow on my knee as he dug in his pocket for change. Felt a bit like we were all a part of the same family, comfortable with one another and not a bit worried about the whole list of things we can tend to carry with us when we go out in public. Smiles, affection, hand shakes, hugs, laughter, waves from children abounded every time we went anywhere. I continued to be amazed at the women carrying large baskets of fruit on their heads or bags of bananas cut from the tree, plastic tubs or bowls of water jugs and other items, a great variety of things while at times also carrying a baby on their back. Men carried long bundles of pipes, metal and other construction material on their heads. You had to watch where you were stepping but also looking ahead so as not to run into anything coming your way! When moving day comes, instead of using a truck, they carry the chairs, couches etc atop their heads which we saw en route to the airport on our last day. Shopping for clothing consisted of picking out cloth from an overwhelming amount of beautiful material at the market, explaining what kind of skirt, shirt or dress you wanted sewn, being measured and returning two days later to pick up your completed garment. Or the cloth could be taken to "the seamstress" which consisted of six sewing machines in a 10x10 concrete room with a little larger room connected in the back with more sewing machines and many posters on the walls from which to choose your style of clothing. Dresses, skirts, tops, pants of all kinds were pictured there. After your choice was made, the measurements were taken and recorded in a little notebook, a snip of your cloth was sewn onto that page quickly with needle and thread and off you went with a few days given before able to pick up your new purchase. And we think high fashion is found in New York City and Paris! I find that I am spending so much time describing these experiences when there is so very much to write about. This is only the beginning. Before I stop for now, I have to mention the best of all...the people we were with. The dancing and singing bathed in tremendous joy and gratitude, your beauty and service, conversation always with laughter, never in a hurry, kind and gentle, generous and loving, warm and affectionate, yet having suffered so much pain and sorrow...I learned so much from you, I count it a great privilege to have met you and now call you my friend, I miss you and I wish I could express how incredible it was to share 10 days with you. I will try to communicate to everyone I know and meet the truth and reality I discovered about Rwanda. And now, I think I'll try to make your delicious hot, milky tea with ginger and see who might be on Facebook!