There are many times in Rwanda where I feel as though I am
doing little more than waiting. Take
today for instance. I had been out
training for the best part of the day. For
most of the morning, Jen and I had been gazing at the approaching dark clouds
and commenting upon how soon it would rain.
We were waiting for that rain for many hours. Towards the end of the day, I was starting to
flag – as one does after a day of activity and when experiencing a post
irindazi and fanta slump. Then the
heavens opened. It absolutely threw it
down for the best part of an hour. We
could no longer talk to the participants as the noise of heavy rain on a tin
roof really makes that impossible.
Thankfully we had them all working on a group work activity and they
could continue doing their sentence jumbles as the rain exploded off the ground
and roof outside. But then the activity,
and the training session finished. We
were now – all of us – waiting for the rain to end. There was no chance of going anywhere, and my
moto would certainly not be able to get through that rain. So we waited.
I feel like I am always waiting...for a bus to arrive, for a
bus to leave...for the bus to get there.
Waiting for the electricity to return or the water to come back on. Waiting for the rain to come and replenish
the parched soil and make my garden grow once more. Waiting for the rain to stop so I can get
home or continue with my day. Waiting
for the fire to light and then waiting for it to be hot enough to cook on. Waiting for the roads to dry after a heavy
burst of rain so that the bikes and buses are able to make their way through
the water-logged clay. Waiting for a
meeting to begin or another to end.
Waiting for the dawn to come and bring more light after a long night. Waiting for the internet to load up a page or
the connection to resume. Waiting for a
parcel to arrive. Waiting for change at
the market as coins and notes are passed between traders. Waiting for food to arrive when eating away
from home. Waiting for the water to heat
so I can have a wash. Waiting for the
washing to dry when it is raining constantly outside. But, that’s life here. People are patient, rarely demanding and
after all, what’s the point in getting cross and shouting...it doesn’t speed
things up. Not even a little bit.
There are many times in Rwanda where I feel as though I am
doing little more than waiting. Take
today for instance. I had been out
training for the best part of the day. For
most of the morning, Jen and I had been gazing at the approaching dark clouds
and commenting upon how soon it would rain.
We were waiting for that rain for many hours. Towards the end of the day, I was starting to
flag – as one does after a day of activity and when experiencing a post
irindazi and fanta slump. Then the
heavens opened. It absolutely threw it
down for the best part of an hour. We
could no longer talk to the participants as the noise of heavy rain on a tin
roof really makes that impossible.
Thankfully we had them all working on a group work activity and they
could continue doing their sentence jumbles as the rain exploded off the ground
and roof outside. But then the activity,
and the training session finished. We
were now – all of us – waiting for the rain to end. There was no chance of going anywhere, and my
moto would certainly not be able to get through that rain. So we waited.
I feel like I am always waiting...for a bus to arrive, for a
bus to leave...for the bus to get there.
Waiting for the electricity to return or the water to come back on. Waiting for the rain to come and replenish
the parched soil and make my garden grow once more. Waiting for the rain to stop so I can get
home or continue with my day. Waiting
for the fire to light and then waiting for it to be hot enough to cook on. Waiting for the roads to dry after a heavy
burst of rain so that the bikes and buses are able to make their way through
the water-logged clay. Waiting for a
meeting to begin or another to end.
Waiting for the dawn to come and bring more light after a long night. Waiting for the internet to load up a page or
the connection to resume. Waiting for a
parcel to arrive. Waiting for change at
the market as coins and notes are passed between traders. Waiting for food to arrive when eating away
from home. Waiting for the water to heat
so I can have a wash. Waiting for the
washing to dry when it is raining constantly outside. But, that’s life here. People are patient, rarely demanding and
after all, what’s the point in getting cross and shouting...it doesn’t speed
things up. Not even a little bit.