Day One:

“Attention passengers. We will be landing in Kigali, Rwanda in aproximently 15 minutes. Thank you for flying with us today on RwandAir.” The loudspeaker on the plane crackled with the announcement, jolting me out of a light sleep. I have been sitting on this plane for the past 22 hours, and I am about to go crazy. Glancing out the window, I notice dry, barren lands, with the occasional house or village speeding by. I could not wait to be off this plane, and into Rwanda, land of a thousand hills. 

“We are now in Kigali, Rwanda. Please exit safely and have a great time.” I jumped out of my seat as soon as the airplane stopped, packed up my stuff, grabbed my brown suitcase, and ran out of the plane, happy to finally be free. First thing on my list of things to do: GET FOOD! I was starving. I hate plane food, so I haven’t really eaten anything good in the past 22 hours. I stopped by a man selling passion fruit juice. Yum! I bought a bottle of the stuff for 68.9000 Rwandan Francs(10 cents in US dollars). It was the most delicious, mouthwatering, flavorful juice I ever tasted. I also got two bananas for 34.4500 RWF(5 cents in US dollars) each. They were so tasty, I ended up buying four more. I knew I would have the chance to taste many more bananas in the next week. 

The next thing I had to do was find Adrien Niyonshuti. He was part of Team Rwanda, and he knew how to drive. So he would be picking me up and driving me to where I am staying. It was already 10 PM at night, but it felt like only 12 PM, because Rwanda is 10 hours ahead of California. I was tired though, I had barely slept on the plane. People all around me were talking in Kinyarwanda, shouting and yelling and laughing to each other. As I make my way through the airport, people come up to me and touch my hair, my arms, my back, and my legs. They try to grasp my hands, but they are curled around my suitcases. Some stare at me, some hide behind others. I keep walking, trying to just get out of that place. Little did I know, people were everywhere, and they would always be curious about “the strange man.” 

To be honest, I was a little scared of all the people. I had never seen so many people in one place, except for maybe New York City. To make matters worse, I had no idea who Adrien was, and where he would be picking me up. People all around me were touching me, poking me, and staring at me. I was so close to shouting at the top of my lungs, “I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU PEOPLE ARE, BUT PLEASE STOP TOUCHING AND POKING ME!!! I AM NOT THAT MUCH DIFFERENT THAN YOU EXCEPT I AM FROM AMERICA AND I DON’T SPEAK KINYARWANDA!” But, I didn’t. First of all, I doubted anyone really knew a lot of english, and second, I’m not that rude. But I was really loosing it. 

“Muraho Tatym!” I heard from somewhere amongst the crowds of people. “Karibu!” I hoped that was Adrien, and I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t really respond. I knew two words in Kinyarwanda. Mwaramutse and Muraho. Mwaramutse means Good Morning, and Muraho means hello. While I was pondering over what to say, a tall, slender man, wearing a Team Rwanda bike jersey walked over to me. “Muraho Tatym. Nitwa Adrien Niyonshuti.” 

“What?” I questioned. 

“Oh right.” Adrien responded. In English! “Sorry about that. I forgot you don’t know Kinyarwanda. You better learn fast, I am one of the only team members who can speak English well.” 

“It’s ok.” I told him. “Let’s get going though. I want to get out of here and all these people. Adrien chuckled. “Oh Tatym. There will be people everywhere. Rwanda holds many people, all who will be interested in who you are.” 

“Oh.” I mumbled, disappointed. Then I though of something, and brightened. “But once I get to my hotel, there won’t be as many people there, right?” Adrien looked puzzled, then anxious, then sort of, I don’t know, sad? “Your hotel room? You don’t have a hotel room. You will be sharing a house with Abraham, Obed, and me.” My feelings sunk. This trip so far has been less then great. “Whatever.” I grumbled. “Lets go. I’m, um, tired.” Adrien led me through the sea of people, saying hello and other things(in Kinyarwandan), as much as possible to the other people. But surprisingly, the people didn’t glare, or roll their eyes, or cursed when Adrien bumped into them. No. Instead, they smiled and said hello back. People were nice here, I realized. Not like in the United States. I got into Adrien’s car, and relaxed, ready for the hour long ride to where I am staying. 

I think I fell asleep, because the next thing I knew, Adrien was shaking me. “Get up and out of the car Tatym.” He said, right into my ear. I did. The first thing I noticed when I got out, was the smells. It smelled like smoke from garbage burning, meals cooking, and rain. Adrien led me to his house, which I noticed was made from clay and scape of tin. Inside the house was four straw mats, blankets, and baskets. The house was small, but surprisingly comfortable. I put my suitcase against a wall, laid down, and drifted off to sleep, thinking about what mysteries the next few days would hold.