Day Four

I dream of oatmeal.

It is brisk here in the mornings. Like mornings in Florida in February. Not enough to wear a coat but enough to feel refreshed. Need to solve my back door problem. I am continuously locked out because the lock won’t fully turn. This could turn ugly. And need to find my rope for a clothesline.

Proud that I have yet to bust out my computer. I wake up around 5:30am. Try to get clean. Bathroom. Brush teeth. Head to guesthouse for breakfast. Show up at the hospital around 8/9. Work/get oriented/sit and observe until 5pm. Head home. Shoot the shit with my neighbors for an hour (Sorry there’s no better way to say it). Go home. Brush teeth. Bathroom. Go to sleep around 8/9pm if I choose to read by flashlight.

It rains here often. Once a day or at least it looks like it’s going to rain.

Jeanne, the mental health nurse, told me she could take me to the carpenter because she took Edison. You have to get on his waiting list and he’ll tell you when he’ll start your project. Jeanne’s got something starting on the 20th. I kind of like sleeping without a bed frame but a kitchen table would sure come in handy.

A favorite conversation of mine to initiate is when people think the electricity will come to our town. Some are adamant that it will come by August at the latest. Others shake their heads as if it will never come. As soon as it comes, I’m getting a double hot plate to cook on and kettle to boil water in. Oatmeal and spaghetti here I come! I am one of the very few PCVs in Rwanda that have neither water nor electricity. It’s not bad until you compare yourself to others. I successfully secured my meals at the guesthouse for 2 months! Hooray!

I hit a wall. Two years, really! A full 30 days of loneliness. I think I understand stay at home mothers or fathers who complain about their lack of adult conversation. I’ve been speaking like an imbecile in Kinyarwanda and English and had stupid text messages as my only communication with Americans – which we all know isn’t real English. I swear even the conversations in my head to myself are in stunted English.

Didn’t visit my neighbors and couldn’t buy bananas because the store wasn’t open. I think the laptop is coming out tonight.

I’m waiting for a phone call to brighten my day. I don’t think it’s coming tonight. I’m in a complaining mood so I guess I’ll write it out. I think I finally found my first low to my emotional readjustment. Took long enough. I’m definitely on a different track than others. But at this point I’m annoyed with everything. My back door will not open because the lock is defunct. I have to walk all the way around my house to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. There is a mosquito in my bedroom that is the loudest bug I’ve ever heard. Reading by flashlight has lost its allure. Not eating dinner is also stupid. I can’t tell if I’m in a legitimate bad mood or I’m just hungry and therefore cranky. I vote for a combination of the two. Now I feel a bit like Tom Hanks in Survivor talking to his volleyball so I’m going to stop this rant towards my laptop. The real Peace Corps experience has begun.