Ok, now that my magic fingers have repaired the internet connection, I can continue with the people in the KHI guesthouse.
Larissa and Veronique, the Flemish Belgian occupational therapy students. They're here for 3 months in total, both younger than 25. They have my respect for coming out here and doing the best they can, from trying to make fries to trying to provide occupational therapy to cerebral palsy kids without any guidance at all. Apparently, I share a roof with 66% of the number of occupational therapists available to Rwandans. To add to their experience, they don't speak a word of Kinyarwanda or French either, so their work has been made even more difficult with the language barriers. Despite all this, they supply the house with giggles and warbles everyday; you know they've come home because you can hear characteristic Flemish warbling and then a bunch of giggles and laughs.
Larissa is the older one, a bit more reserved but has a great sense of humour and her laughs are the ones I hear the most. We cooked dinner one evening and they were hanging around for some conversation. Larissa was leaning against the wall on her right shoulder and just listening to Avi, Veronique, and I chatting. Suddenly, I see her slide and recover from the slide-fall and then she pushes herself back up with her left hand, like you would put back a book or something heavy. If my description is hard to understand, it's because what she did was rather hard to understand. I just stood there looking perplexed for a second and then started to laugh at her because it really just looked so hilariously retarded. She joined in.
Veronique is the motorcycle & horse-riding-Scout leader-kinda badass-smoking-ACDC-lovin' 20-year old of the duo. She's the one who told us that she spends five nights a week at a pub, but only drinks two of those five nights because she's the designated driver. She's sweet-looking enough that I believe her. I haven't seen her do anything retarded, I suppose she's just too cool to do anything like that while sober.
Finally, Rose is a nursing and midwifery instructor from Kenya. She is an older lady whose frizzy hair is an indication of her frizzy personality. Her frizziness keeps her from socializing with the rest of the house as she becomes easily overwhelmed when things depart from the routine she is familiar with. It also doesn't help for her to be born with a voice which borders on screeching while she voices her discontent about the state of the kitchen, when she phones home at midnight and yells into her cell phone, or when she reminds Herbert that he should go to church with her on Sundays. Thankfully, she has a good heart and isvery courteous when she wants to use my computer to check her e-mail. I don't think the house would be the same without her.
So, there you have it, my housemates in a nutshell. I now must seek shelter from the mosquitoes...
