Bringing Gus to Rwanda

Last night I received a panicked email from Ritchie with a link to a pet import form, saying “Can you fill this out and submit it to the Ministry of Agriculture ASAP?! It will be best if you can get the approval tomorrow.” He’d waited until the last minute to look at the requirements for shipping Gus the Dog to Rwanda, bless his heart. I suspected that it’s impossible to get same-day processing and approval for pet imports here, but I promised to try.  

If only it were this easy (and inexspensive)

I was feeling very capable and urbane as I drove to the Ministry of Agriculture, got myself scanned at the security checkpoint, and waited while the guard looked over the paperwork before vaguely gesturing down the hall toward the left. Luckily for me, there were only two doors on the left and only one of those was open. I went in and handed over my paperwork. The clerks looked at the forms and chatted with each other animatedly for about ten minutes. Finally, one said, “You know the Rwanda Agriculture Board? You have to go there.”

I took my forms and got back in the car, still feeling capable, then drove across town to the RAB. At the RAB, the clerk examined my forms. “You have to go next door to the secretariat,” he said.

Feeling less capable and slightly deflated, I went next door to the secretariat. It was a single room crowded with desks and stacks of papers, which did not make me feel hopeful, but the clerk greeted me with a nice smile. I handed her my paperwork. She looked them over and said, “You need to take these next door to RAB.” And gestured back the way I’d come.

“I just came from next door!” I objected. The futility of my efforts was just starting to dawn on me. “They told me to come here.”

She glanced at my paperwork once more. “Okay, you can leave them here.” Then she put the papers on top of a messy pile and nodded toward the door. My cue to leave. I didn’t feel satisfied with this outcome.

“What happens next?” I asked. “How will I know when he’s approved? Will you contact me?”

“Come back in a few days. Then we’ll see.”  And she smiled at me nicely once more.

I left feeling entirely unsure of the outcome. Would they even look at my paperwork? Will Gus languish endlessly in customs or wherever it is that they store un-cleared pets until it’s time to ship him back home? Luckily, these worries don’t translate into dog and he is blissfully unaware of his own vulnerability.  Ritchie, on the other hand, might be sending more panicked emails.

Is anyone interested in adopting a charmingly stupid and partially trained mutt? You know, just in case.

For Kate

My beautiful friend Kate got married on Saturday. I couldn’t be there, but I love her so much that I wanted to write her a tribute.

Kate and I met in our senior year of college at Western Washington University in Bellingham. We were both creative writing majors, both recently returned from a semester studying abroad, and had both been recently dumped (seriously, screw those guys). I had just come back from Spain, while Kate had just come back from Nepal. How badass is that? While I was trying to decide where to drink a cerveza, Kate was sheltering at home because the Maoists had declared a curfew in Kathmandu. While I traveled to the Costa del Sol for a weekend in the sun, Kate trekked to Everest base camp. Needless to say, she’s way more hardcore than I am.

She’s also funny as hell. At my bachelorette party, she brought an all-white, one piece, belted snowsuit. She said it made her feel sexy. I wore it and discovered that she was right; it made me feel sexy, too. I was the sexiest skier on the mountain that weekend, thanks to Kate. She also accompanied me to multiple opening nights of the Twilight series (ironically, of course) and snuck mini bottles of champagne into the theater because those movies can only be laughed at with alcohol in hand.

What else can I say about Kate? She’s smart. She’s a good cook. She has amazing, enviable hair. She’s a seriously badass snowboarder. She is one of the coolest women you will ever meet. Kate is the type of person that you want to be happy because she should be happy. She deserves happiness, possibly because she brings so much happiness to others.

So, this is a tribute to Kate and the next phase of her happy, hilarious, badass life. Her husband is one lucky dude.

Single parenting woes

If you don't like reading other people's complaints, close this blog right now. A litany of my woes follows.

I just want to sleep past 5:30 and use the bathroom in peace. Is that too much to ask? Lately, it seems that it is. In Seattle, Lark slept until 7:15 a.m. every day, but here she wakes shortly after dawn. On weekdays, we’re engaging in a race to wake. I set my alarm earlier and earlier so that I can shower before she starts crying in her crib. Day after day, she beats me to it.  I struggle to find the time to get ready for work on weekdays because, not only is she an early riser, she is extraordinarily clingy.

If I try to shut myself in the bathroom, she screams outside the door, “MAMA, MAMA!” I opened the door this morning to find her in near hysterics, just because I had the audacity to separate us for a short five minutes. I can’t cook because Lark must be attached to my leg or in my arms. I can’t enjoy a meal because she must have a taste of every bite off my plate. When our sweet nanny arrives in the morning, Lark tries to hit her.

"It is insufferable that you aren't holding me right now."

This goes beyond separation. She has also become very possessive. If Anna joins me and Lark at the breakfast table, Lark gets upset, yelling “No!” and crying if we engage in conversation.

Needless to say, I find this exhausting. I’m trying to be empathetic because her 16-month-old brain has had a lot to process in the last six weeks. Things look and smell different. She doesn’t have her Dad or extended family around. Maybe she misses Gus the Dog. I’m hoping that this clinginess and possessiveness isn’t the sign of a difficult personality.

"You are a cruel and horrible mother and I judge you. Constantly."

I’m trying to be empathetic, but I also have a lot to process. I also left my home and family and friends behind. And I have to work. And I have to take care of Lark in the morning and at night and on the weekends. I miss having someone to ‘tag in’ when I need a nap or would like to go for a run. I’d like to have some time to myself, even if it’s just five peaceful minutes in the bathroom or a quiet moment to boil some pasta for dinner without worrying that I’ll scald my baby who won’t detach herself from my leg.

"I will not be ignored, Mother!"

I have all the respect for the single parents out there who do this every day, year after year without help. You are amazing.

Reflections on a month in Rwanda

Muraho from Rwanda!

Lark and I have been in Kigali for over one month and, for the most part, it's been a positive experience. Still, our first couple of days were rough. 

Ritchie, Lark and I arrived  on August 2 after a long journey. Our flight from Chicago to Brussels was delayed by a few hours, causing us to miss our connection in Brussels to Kigali. We were rerouted through Istanbul, adding about six hours to our overall trip. Though we'd tried to arrange a layover in Brussels in order to wait for another direct flight, Brussels Airlines was like, "Nope! Here are your tickets to Istanbul. You're boarding in 45 minutes. No thanks needed." And though Istanbul is a beautiful, fascinating city, our departure lounge was bleak with filthy toilets and no services. On the six-hour Turkish Air flight to Kigali, Lark managed to vomit the contents of her stomach all over Ritchie’s clothes. The flight attendant was kind enough to bring him a handful of tiny, ineffective serviettes with which to “clean up”. But we didn't lose heart! Fresh clothes would await us on arrival . . . only they didn't. In fact, our bags didn't arrive for three days and Ritchie had to hang out at the house in a towel for a day while his one pair of clothes was washed and dried.

When our bags finally arrived, we were elated and examined each item as if it were a long-awaited Christmas present: "Wow, shampoo!" "Look, Ritchie, a different shirt!" "Ailey, can you believe how clean this underwear is?!" Things were on the up-and-up from there. We experimented with driving (it's so much easier to be brave when you're driving someone else's car), went shopping, and visited different restaurants around town. 

Unfortunately, Ritchie had to go back to work and returned to Seattle after one week. I was devastated and cried unabashedly as he walked through the security gate at the airport, much to the interest of the Rwandans seeing people off. It's still hard to be apart and I miss him.

On the positive side, my new job is interesting and challenging and I work with a great team. I just came back from two days of fieldwork in the Southern and Western Provinces in which I learned a lot, both from the participants and my colleagues. In my day-to-day work, I feel valued and respected. I feel like I contribute. I feel smart. 

Also, Lark has grown so much since we’ve been here and it is a joy to see. She started walking in the week after we arrived and has grown progressively more confident and stable. She’s also learned several new words, her favorite being 'no'. Here is a sample conversation:

Me: “Lark, do you love me?” 

Lark: “NO."

She also says cow, hi, bye, night-night, mama, daddy, and thank you. She loves to sing to herself, which clearly means that she’ll be rich and famous, but also humble and down-to-earth. She is my child, after all. She gets along well with her nanny, Pena, and is deeply in love with the security guard, Venuste. Luckily for her, I think that the feeling is mutual.

Overall, I feel so, so lucky to spend time in and explore this beautiful country, though I recognize that adjusting to life here will not be a painless process. I miss Ritchie. I miss my family and my friends. At times, I even miss the Seattle weather. Crazy, right? But through new challenges, I grow as a person and as a professional. I just need to ensure that I have enough fresh

clothes and toiletries with me to ease my way.