Rwanda and finding a home

Over this quiet summer, while my aid worker made yet another move, (this time to Beirut), I slowly discovered that Rwanda has gently crept into my heart and become my home.

This happened in stages. Stage two was when two good friends from Burma moved from Yangon to a house five minutes down the road from me.

Those same friends were also responsible for stage one. They told me, in no uncertain terms, that I had to move out of my work's guest house, where I'd been living for a year and a half, and find my own place. "Make a home!" they exclaimed. "With this transitory life, it doesn't matter if that home is only for 3 months, only for a year - buy stuff, nest, make somewhere feel like it is yours!" And so I did.

Even as my aid worker and I struggled with knowing where his post South Sudan life would take him. Even as my work re-structured. Even as I wondered whether we would be in Rwanda at all.

And, dear friends, it has transformed my relationship to this place. As a good friend left Rwanda I inherited beautiful plants and gorgeous furniture. I put up my Burmese painting. I got beds, tables and table cloths made. I bought a fridge. I found a gardener and planted seeds.

It was exhausting, but finally, as I sit in my house, with the world of work shut outside my gates and a cup of tea at my side, I feel like I am truly home. Alongside this, a community has built up. Yoga and meditation sessions on the terrace, swing dance club, when we push aside the furniture and ketenge cushions so we can dance. And, who knows how long this little home will last, but for now, it feels real and good and solid.