On My Own

Not only am I questioned by my own culture, I am also given strange looks by Rwandans. Yes, I am a single female who lives by herself in a foreign country. I have been praised for my bravery, challenged for my stupidity and just plain stared at with a dumbfounded look on their face. It is incredibly uncommon for a person to live alone in Rwanda. Rwandans can't stand to be alone. Even when they have roommates, they sometimes sleep in the same room so as not to be alone. Even in America, where it is common for people to live alone, it is not always accepted for a person to move to a foreign place, surrounded by strangers and go it alone.

That being said, my security has always been my top priority. I happen to have a bit of phobia against burglars, especially ones seeking physical harm. To put it lightly, it has caused me nightmares and paranoia for as long as I could remember. So when people applaud my actions as a young, single female moving to Rwanda, I can only say I didn't do it lightly. I've been very pleased so far. Life here hasn't been nearly as petrifying as I imagined. I have so many locks on my doors the scariest experience has been my being locked inside my house. There are bars on all my windows. Everyone respects the boundaries of my yard. I don't go out in the dark unless accompanied. All in all, life has been more secure than in America. It is also reassuring to think that no Rwandans, outside the military, have guns. And people carrying machetes has stopped frightening me, all history acknowledged.

So this particular night caught me off guard. I was lying in bed watching the French version of the third installment of Center Stage -understanding the dialogue of that movie isn't really necessary. I heard strange noises. I swear it was squeaking that only a human could make and footsteps. I noted the time and tried to be rational. The noises continued for over a half hour, sounding like it was right outside my bedroom window and back door. At this point I couldn't calm myself down. I didn't want to look out the window for fear of one thing or another. Most of my coworkers were out of town because it was a holiday weekend. I did the only thing I could think to do - called the pastor. If anyone is going to feel a moral obligation to help me it would be him. Pastor Jerome, being a kind soul, immediately sent someone over to check on my house. Thankfully nothing/no one was found. However I was all wound up and it took some time to calm myself down. The noises continued into the wee hours of morning but now I could recognize them for what they really were - some sort of nocturnal animal in my attic, hopped up on Red Bull, playing a game of dodgeball with his friends, with the aim of making as much noise as possible and letting me get the least amount of sleep possible. I could also recognize that I should have eaten more because low blood sugar directly correlates to my mind fostering elaborate stories that are completely unfounded. The next day I woke up extremely drowsy and feeling foolish.

This story is not meant to increase concern for my safety. I only want to give a realistic view of my life here. Life as a single female is not always glamourous and glass-ceiling-breaking. Sometimes there is fear. Sometimes there is concern. And sometimes there are wonderful neighbors who have sympathy for scared Americans living in their midst. I'd like to focus on the fact that I have reliable, compassionate neighbors and was in no real danger beyond sleep deprivation. Thank goodness.