The KHI Guesthouse Part 1

I have to say that so far, one of my favourite things about this trip is getting to know the people who live, come, and go in the guesthouse. There are a total of eight rooms, most of which are occupied by people who have been here for more than a week. I am gradually getting to know them and they are quite the colourful bunch.

Dr. Dibal Wendali, or 'Chief.' I kept calling him Wakari, which means 'hiker' in Swahili until one day I heard his friend Herbert call him Dibal and I had to ask him again what his name was because I was sure that he wasn't called "Hiker." The Chief has been here from Nigeria on and off for the last two years. He teaches medical laboratory science at the Kigali Health Institute and is the veteran amongst us. He is aptly named 'Chief' as he carries himself with stature and poise even as he comes down the stairs in his Nigerian nightgown and blue plastic flip flops. Although he can look severe, even bordering on grumpy, he's actually quite generous and open. I find his frankly-stated opinions the most entertaining of all.
For example, after our mishap with the drivers, we spoke to him about what happened, and in authoritative tones, he gave us a breakdown of costs that he incurred on the same trip that we had wanted to do. Seeing as he was quite knowledgeable about travelling in Rwanda we started asking him about other trips, especially what he knew about gorilla trekking. His response was: "I don't understand why you would pay $500 USD of good money to see some apes eat and scratch themselves in the forest. This gorilla business, it's all a bunch of bullshit to me." Avi & I looked at each other and grinned.

Dr. Herbert, physician lecturer from Zimbabwe. Slight in build, friendly and polite in nature, but seemed to be reserved and be quiet. That opinion changed over the last few days. Over the weekend, he and Elias (see below) brought their women home and partied continuously. I didn't see him on Monday, but we did see him on Tuesday when we had our first guesthouse communal dinner.

As he came down the stairs with a lost look on his face, we invited him to sit down and eat with us. After I asked him how his day went, he said: "We had to administer our first practical exam to 50 students today. It lasted for six hours. and I had such a HORRIBLE hangover." I started to giggle, and I said, "hey, I think you need some more beer now as you know that it is a cure for your hangover." Of course he took some. Over the course of the dinner, we started making fun of one of the young Belgian girls for being at the pub all the time. She defended herself by saying that although she was there, she never really drinks because she's the designated driver. Herbert pipes up, "Well, in Zimbabwe, we all drive when we're sloshed. I don't even know how I even manage to park the car half the time. It's really common in Zimbabwe, we all just learn to drive drunk."

Elias, another health professional who is lecturing for the Kigali Health Institute. He only stayed a weekend, en route from Butare to the Kibuye campus up north. You could tell he was around by listening for a high-pitched, full-bellied giggle-chuckle that matched his round, grinning face. He kinda reminded me of a Care Bear.
During the weekend he was here, the only real interactions I had with him were just brief "Hi, what are you up to today?" type exchanges as he passed by me studying furiously in the living room. Nonetheless, my lasting memory of him will be the time he burst into the study room in which I was reading, dancing away like James Brown. With a ball cap pulled over his eyes, a bright lemon yellow TANZANIA soccer jacket on with complimentary dark sports pants, and prominently gleaming white ear plugs, he sidesteps over to me at the desk. He stops dancing for a few seconds, pretty much yells: "I am SO happy, I love this music from my country!" and jams one of his earplugs into my right ear. "Isn't this such GREAT music?? It makes me feel SOOO good!" as he's bopping his head up and down next to me, snapping to the beat and just grooving for the both of us combined, as if he was in the middle of a dance club. For me, who had been sitting for several hours in silence and concentration trying to understand more anesthesia, it was a mild sensory overload. I saw him later on that evening with the ear plugs, a leg draped over the armrest of one of the sofas in the living room as he waited for a friend to go out with him.

Vivian the physiotherapist from Zimbabwe. She was the first person I met when I arrived October 5th, completely sleep deprived and confused. I can best describe her as a female african version of Santa Claus complete with mischevious smile, a hearty, jolly laugh, and lots of rolypoliness. I didn't get to know her much because she was evicted from her room at the end of the maximum stay of 3 months at the house, but it just seemed that all was well when she was around. Even while she was complaining, she was still smiling and laughing infectiously. Hopefully she'll be back for a visit.

Next installment: the Belgian girls & Rose