I didn't know I could get my hair cut at a hair saloon....and other wacky and interesting things about Rwanda

I have seen many saloons around Rwanda and thought, “This is fantastic! A Western style saloon and I don’t even have to wait for Stampede!” But no, this was a hair salon. At first I thought it was spelling mistake but I believe this is how Rwandans spell it. Is it a mistake? Well, not necessarily. I mean, surely our American friends don’t think we “misspell” the words neighbour, favour, and ….oh what are those red squiggly lines on my screen? Rwandans may misspell salon but they sure know how to spell bilharzia! Even the P5 English textbook tells the story of “Billy The Bilharzia Worm” and informs children about the nasty parasite and how to avoid become infected. I must tell you that even I learned something about how it is formed and basically that I shouldn’t pee in, drink from, or swim in infected lakes.

But for these wacky bits, Rwanda has certainly lived up to its reputation as a friendly country. All the children coming to and from school smile and great you with a drawn out “Good morning!” It sounds more like “Goooood Morrrrrning”. Now, irrespective of that fact that it is usually the afternoon when they are greeting me, it’s so lovely to be welcomed into the community. “Welcomed” may be a strong word. I think right now I’m just a mzungu novelty. The children touch my skin, presumably to see if my whiteness will rub off. They love to practice their English. “How old are you?” and “Where are you going?” must have been taught this week in class because they are experts at asking. “I am 30” I say or “I am going home” does not register with them as any sort of answer because they don’t understand what I’m saying. They don’t actually care how old I am (but now you all know…) and they don’t really care where I’m going, they are just being friendly. Rwandans are friendly with each other too. I had done a lot of reading about Rwanda before I came so I expected to see men holding hands but didn’t realize just how friendly they were with one another. Hands intertwined as they walk, arms around each other, or sitting with arms and legs intertwined.

Friendliness has its downsides too. Today I began cooking at 6:30pm and it was already dark. I was alone in the house and we try to keep all lights off because electricity is expensive. So, I began cooking and made sure the window to our back was open so the place doesn’t smell (that much) of kerosene – not to mention the fact that breathing it in cannot be good for our health. Our yard is completely secure with no one able to get in or out with a key. All of a sudden I heard a quiet voice through the open window says “Mwirirwe.” I jumped about thirteen feet, dropped what I was chopping and realized my heart had stopped. I stared out into the darkness but could see nothing. Then I remembered that it was probably our guard. Now, I didn’t go out to find out but just responded with a friendly “Mwiriwe” back. Unfortunately I don’t know how to say “You scared the SHIT out of me!” in Kinyarwanda.

Okay maybe friendliness isn’t all that wacky. In fact, I think it’s downright comforting to know that I’ll be spending a year in a country where I’m more or less welcome. Be sure, though, that in the next year I’m sure I’m bound to find truly wacky and interesting things.