Rainy days and Tuesdays

Here it is: a Tuesday, a day that is normally reserved for preaching from morning to evening, but from the get-go, the rain started falling, and fell all morning, and, alas, from the looks of it, will continue to fall all afternoon also. So it looks like my Bible study at the construction site in Gacuriro—the one that requires a half-hour of actual study and two hours of travel time—is cancelled today. Unless I go in my swimming trunks, which would not be appropriate for the occasion, not to mention uncomfortable.

When it rains in Rwanda, it rains. This is no mere drizzle, but often an experience of Noachian-era proportions. From a warm and secure environment (if not always completely waterproof), a glance out the window can be blinding. Even the cockroaches run for cover. There is lightning! And thunder! The downpour is deafening. The rain falls off the edge of the metal roofs in huge sheets, resulting in large, muddy pools. And life everywhere completely shuts down. (Compare Job 37:6, 7.)

People in Rwanda are, shall we say, afraid of rain, even in the slightest amounts. There is this prevailing notion that if you are exposed to rain you will get sick. Somehow this substance called water, which is perfectly harmless when used to cook or bathe oneself, suddenly becomes noxious when it falls from the heavens, a sure sign of divine displeasure. So everyone huddles in the shops. Or under the shelter of bus stages. They wait, expectantly, for the moment when the rain completely and unequivocally stops, because—heaven forbid—one cannot conceive of risking one’s life and health just to go to work or school, or to attend an important meeting with the President. If you have to keep him waiting for four hours, so be it!

What of umbrellas, you might say? They have several drawbacks, which the original inventor(s) no doubt failed to take into consideration. First, they cost money. Then, they have to be carried, which can be a nuisance. And there may be a certain gender-related stigma attached to the practice. (From my observation, about 15% of the population here carry umbrellas, and the majority of these are women. Except that those who use umbrellas against the sun are all women.) Much easier, it can be seen, for people to just slip into a bar with friends when it starts raining and order beers. The longer it rains, the more beers.

Well, I, for one, do use an umbrella. I would rather get somewhere and accomplish something, even if it means getting stared at. But there are certain days—today being one of them—when even the sturdiest umbrella is helplessly reduced to a shell of its former self. It will be about as effective as covering yourself with a newspaper, except that the newspaper will not, as it is flailing in the wind, stab you in the eye. So, this Chinese-American-Rwandan has decided, along with everyone else, that today is a washout (!). But there is a positive side. The natural vegetation loves days like this. And the six kids living next door, who normally would be kicking a soccer ball against my wall and shouting at the top of their lungs, are forced inside. And this is good preparation, I suppose, for the month of April, when we will get a whopping six inches of rain on average, the highest for any month during the year. So let us steel ourselves for the inevitable. Meanwhile, the most pressing question is, with only a bag of brown sugar in the house, what am I going to eat for lunch today?

Speaking of water, though, my freestanding water tank in the bathroom has sprung leaks in several places, keeping the floor nice and moist for microorganisms. So I have had to place a bucket under the leaks. I would use my three large basins (blue, green, red), but they are presently full of water. Yes, since the beginning of the year, we have had water on a fairly regular basis now, which is great cause for celebration, so maybe hoarding water is not such an issue. Nevertheless, until the brother comes to repair the tank, it is a matter of getting used to hearing the sound of leaking water all night long. One might think this is soothing, but you know how the power of suggestion works? I already have to get up in the middle of the night once or twice as it is, more after having had ikivuguto (fermented milk) earlier that evening. Life does have its challenges.