It was raining when we landed and the air was hot and humid disguising the usual waft of smoke that greets you when you step off the plane. The airport looks nice. I’m not exactly sure what has changed, but it definitely looks more modern than last year and a shuttle bus is waiting to take us from the tarmac to the arrivals corridor sparing us the hustle through the light rain. I line up in the visa payment line not remembering how much it costs or whether I was supposed to fill out some paperwork to apply. I am only slightly concerned when I notice others shuffling through papers and readying their passports. This is in stark contrast to the first year I came to Rwanda with a folder of neatly organized papers documenting every thing from my connection with the university, to my yellow fever vaccination, to my birth certificate. Now I know I can get into the country with a valid passport, a smile, and an “amakuru!?”
My dear reliable friend Emmy jumps out of the crowd of people outside the arrivals exit to greet me. Dapper and smiling as usual, he immediately begins to gush his usual compliments and inquiries into my well-being. He accuses me of bringing the rain but says it’s lucky. He would make an effective politician but excels in his role as tourism guide and logistical host for our program in Rwanda. He is wearing the Hugo Boss watch I bought him a few years back and still bragging how he wears it to special occasions and gets compliments on it often. His son is now 2 and a half and his daughter is 6 months and both he says are tall for their age, a trait they undoubtedly inherited from Emmy.
There are bright stadium lights up on a hill. The Democratic Republic of Congo and Mali are playing in the Africa cup. It sounds fun and a small part of me wants to go check it out but I am more tired than I remember being in the past after this 24+ hours journey. I also know I better be tired because it will be hard to sleep over all the partying in Nyamirambo, our program apartment’s neighborhood. Emmy jokingly calls it “Nyamirambo Vegas.”
Christophe meets us at the apartment building gate to greet me and help me with my suitcase up to the third floor. We moved from Charles’ apartment on the second floor because he never would get around to fixing the broken things, the water never worked, and he was blatantly unconcerned about the happiness of his tenants. Our new apartment is owned by his younger brother Antoine and is much nicer anyway. Christophe just graduated from college for some trade I unfortunately don’t remember. Distribution management? Something business related. His graduation is a huge accomplishment since he started out as the building's “house boy” usually barefoot and from an incredibly poor village family with seven siblings. Someone in our program motivated and financed him through the process and I am sure all of us have given him additional encouragement along the way. I bought him a graduation card and have a crisp bill to place inside it but it is buried somewhere in my suitcase, so I tell him I have a graduation gift to give him tomorrow.
Emmy and Christophe say goodnight and leave and I unpack my suitcase. I am so grateful that Patty left milk, eggs, and coffee because I am way too tired to run out tonight for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. I can hear the constant hum of music and voices outside the apartment. There is a roach in the bathroom sink. There is a gecko in the kitchen. It is good to be back in Rwanda.
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