When it rains, it pours

A few nights ago, I discovered that it rains in my apartment. I'm not sure what most of you picture when I describe Patel and my little one bedroom high rise in the center of town. It’s got great views of the city, with huge, 5 x 8 ft picture windows overlooking the bus station, and we are comfortably situated on the fifth floor (walk up, of course. No elevator in these swanky digs). So, imagine my surprise when I get home from a restless day at the office to discover that, while the windows provide glorious natural sunlight and a variety of dream-disrupting, old school tunes from the early 90’s blasting from the streets below (this morning-Lady in Red and an old favorite from the Pretty Woman soundtrack), the windows also aren’t sealed. Like at all. Here I am, laying in bed, journaling about the trials and tribulations of my week, when I hear rain pouring in through not one, not two, but count ‘em, all three windows in the apartment. With appalling speed, a puddle of water forms on the floor, and the next thing I know, I’m wringing out towels and wading through ankle deep rain water that’s collecting in my bedroom. Troublesome. The irony is that we haven’t had running water in the apartment for over two days.

I know, I know. For those of you that have had the fortunate pleasure of reading my emails since my old Peace Corps days in Togo and my last semester in Ethiopia, this water issue is becoming old news. Africa has water problems, blah blah blah. Aimee never showers. Yada yada yada. Ok, fine. This is true. It seems worth mentioning though (just to put things in perspective) that I also have a third eye growing out of my head from some newly acquired thirtysomething acne problem. Not only does this growth merit a good face scrubbing, but quite possibly a warm compress to expel whatever it is that is taking over my face. I’m expecting to wake up tomorrow with blurred vision in my left eye. It’s remarkable, really.

Not only do I have the ol’ acne concern, but my feet have been traipsing through the streets of Kigali for two days in my trusty Tevas (yes, the same pair the freaky foot fetish man in NYC asked to sniff way back when)…and I’m almost 100% certain that my foot abscess is rearing its ugly head again. Is that even physiologically possible? Maybe I should see this ankle deep water issue in my bedroom as a blessing. I just saved myself the use of a minimum of three, much-coveted wet wipes that I can save for, ahhh, yes…a rainy day. I’m not entirely clear what to do with my room at the current moment. I called Patel. He was solution-less as to how to remedy a few, unwanted gallons of rain water on the fifth floor of an office building. He was encouraged that I would have something to do to occupy my time on a rainy Thurday evening. Thanks, roomie. There is no maintenance man to speak of. I’m not even entirely sure anyone knows that people live here. So, while Patel is at the restaurant, serving Kigali’s elite chicken tika masala and lentils and drinking fine wine, I’m laying in a puddle (pun intended. Please.) of my own sweat in a puddle of rainwater in my random room on the top of Ecobank. Awesome.

31st birdle

I was walking to work this morning amidst the bustling, (relentlessly) hilly streets of Kigali, and couldn’t help but reflect on my birthday yesterday, and the fact that I seem to have spent more birdles in recent years on the continent of Africa than in my own country. Birthdays away from home always provide a distinct combination of adaptation to the long-standing traditions of birthdays past, coupled with the efforts of exploring new ways to celebrate in the culture you are currently embedded in. Yesterday was no exception. Not surprisingly, the 5th of October, 2009 seemed to echo this persistent theme of permanence (or lack thereof) in my existence as a young adult. A year ago, I celebrated my 30th birthday in an archaic bowling alley in Addis Ababa, drinking cheap beers among dear friends old and new, desperately attempting to accomplish my thesis work in rural Ethiopia. Here I am, a year later-yes, still in Africa, albeit a completely different experience—in a complicated yet beautiful nation struggling to grow and reconcile; a technically unemployed graduate of Tulane University wondering what’s next.

The efforts from new friends and colleagues to make me feel special and honored were well-appreciated. I had a fabulous dinner Saturday night with a small group of friends at one of my favorite restaurants in Kigali, followed by a completely random night of clubbing with Kigali’s finest youth showing off their dance moves and surveying the wonderful world of late night expat life. Yesterday, I was presented with a cake from my adorable Rwandese colleagues at Tulane, had lunch with my incredibly supportive classmate and colleague Bridget, and shared a romantic dinner with my latest and greatest love interest. I had a steady stream of emails, gchats, phone calls, and Facebook messages up the wazoo throughout the day. I truly felt loved and appreciated.

So, here I am, a day into my thirty-first year on this earth, and trying to examine what the take home message could be for the year ahead. Quite obviously, I need to continue to grow—professionally, personally…continue to seek love and goodness, live with intention, live presently. But more obvious to me in recent months (thanks universe!) is this idea of how to best navigate and utilize my energy. I have heard from numerous sources (hopefully reliable) lately that I have an energy that people are drawn to, that’s engaging, that people open up to and find positive (yay). While this often lends itself to intense emotional connection and genuine discourse, I also find myself exhausted much of the time. I have begun to question that maybe I’m too quick to offer myself up to others, that I crave that human authenticity so much that I propel myself boundary-less into space…not a very protective way for me to function in such a complicated world. Maybe I’ve been burned one too many times by not creating a shield to the outside world, being too emotionally available, and in turn, attracting people that are desperately needing that space to share in. Maybe I’m the one that’s drawn to people that seem to need that sort of energy. Who knows? But then I think back to yesterday…the sentiments people shared with me, the love I felt; the efforts from friends and family to remind me what I mean to them and the role I play in their lives. And I realize that maybe that’s the only permanence I need in my life. To know that if I continue to give of myself and live with honesty and goodness, it will come back to me ten-fold through consistently amazing people that come in and out of my life, people that continuously challenge me to live freely and grow. Maybe that’s all anybody needs. I don’t know. But I can guarantee that by this time next year, I will feel as blessed and loved as I did yesterday…and that is something permanent that I can certainly live with. Thanks for the gifts, y’all. Missing you from across the ocean…