1 September 2005 – One month in

Today is a momentous day. Rebecca and I have survived one whole month here in the land of the cracked windshield (seriously, everyone's is). Sometimes it feels like time has flown by. Others, like this morning when I decided it was high time to iron all the shirts that had just been hanging in the closet after about a month in suitcases, it feels like it’s dragged on.

Still, life is taking on a rhythm right about now. Things more or less work in the house now, which is a good start. I’ve started to learn the mini-combi bus system here (the shaggin’ wagons I wrote about earlier) and am starting to take fewer taxis. I’m also riding the back of motorcycle taxis again, despite Rebecca’s pleas. It’s a helmet versus lice issue.

Here are some random thoughts on our first month. Kigali is insanely expensive, comparable to New York, often can't find what you're looking for, or when you do find it, the thing breaks within a few days. And there are no bagels. I could really use a bagel. A CRS person who lived in Rwanda for six years and is here for a week is in the process of showing us where to shop better and cheaper. One of the places we do our shopping is called the Gallette, which is attached to the German Butchery. Bec and I find the German Butchery endlessly amusing. (On a related note, I think that the German international development agency needs to rebrand itself. The initials spell D-E-D, and the acronym is pronounced “dead.” It just goes with the whole German Butchery thing.)

Socially, well, it’s been a slow to start. Bec and I really enjoy each other’s company. But we need to start meeting other people. Somehow, we always manage to find something to talk about, but it’s been a month, and we’re starting to run out. Sometimes we just look at each other, shrug and say, “I got nothin'.”

I may be starting to play in a regular football game with the BBC correspondent here. I think my accent will make me the last player picked, and rightly so. At least there will be people there.

Work is coming along. Some of you are probably wondering what happened to that story I filed earlier this week. Well, I am too. I e-mailed the editor in Washington yesterday to see what’s going on. Barb said she was all by her lonesome on foreign news, and would be reading it yesterday. Last time I checked, at about 7:30 last night, no word. My fear is that she hates it and doesn’t want me to write anymore for CNS. That’s probably not going to happen, and she is backed up. I find it hard to believe that my story comes in after news from the Vatican and the 25^th anniversary of the Solidarity trade union’s recognition by the Polish government. I guess I’m in the minority on that. (Update: It's now 4:20 p.m. Kigali time, 10:20 in D.C. Still no word on the story.)

I have a meeting tomorrow with the president’s communications guy. I'll have a better handle on what's going on here, and I’ve worked out getting a list of all the government ministers’ mobile phone numbers. I’m not giving up my source on that, and none of you can make me. I could really use a phone book. And yes, they have one here.

So now it’s just a matter of figuring out what’s next. Burundi appears to be the best option; lots of stories there. I just need to get CNS to pay for my trip, preferably in conjunction with another news organization. I’ve got other Rwanda stories that I’m thinking about, and which may be interesting. Of course, I can’t really do good pitches until CNS puts my story up online, to show what I can do. Ugh, I feel trapped. I actually sent one on Tuesday, to Atlanta. I certainly do have a good sense of timing.

Bec’s been working like crazy lately. She and CRS are facing US government funding application deadlines. It’s quite a process, and she’s at work until around 7 or 8 many nights. But it’ll calm down soon. I’ll let her tell the rest of her story.

So that’s the deal from here after one month. I’m starting to get used to the crazy taxis, the flickering power, the language – everything except having a guard. No Mo, he’s not a manservant. We’re building a life here, as hard as it is. But we’ll do it. We don’t have a choice.