Day 14: Lunch

A few days ago, I met two English girls, who told me about a lady at a market in Kigali, who makes tailored shirts at a reasonable price. Her name is Josephine.

In the afternoon, I took a moto to the market. There were ladies sat in front of vast piles of beans, moving each one around with their finger tips, and carefully examining them, before moving them to the correct pile. Tall, wooden market stalls formed dark and narrow lanes, about three feet across. Walking through these lanes was more exciting for the surprise of what would be round each corner, all the way a background mumble of muzungo.

After one wrong Josephine, I eventually asked my way to the right Josephine. who was very friendly, and spoke fantastic English. Naïvely, I had imagined her range of fabrics to include stripes, checks, and other European styles. I was wrong. But since I had been escorted to her by an old lady and her entourage of small children (muzungo!) I had to follow through. I promise you will like it (the shirt), Josephine kept saying. She used a long, wooden stick to hook down each fabric on which my eyes paused for more than half a second. They were all as bright and bold as each other, and mostly imported from the Congo. How do you see Rwanda? she asked. Everybody asked this question, in the same phrasing. Eventually a small man in an ill-fitted shirt turned up to measure me. It turns out he's the one who makes the clothes. Josephine is just the front-man. I paid for the fabric (5000frw) and said goodbye. I will pay for the making when I collect the shirt on Wednesday. I promise you will like it, Josephine said again, before I left.

On my way back to the sunlight (rain actually) I stopped in the food section to buy some miniature bananas for lunch. At this point, five or six hands began to thrust different fruit in front of my face. 200! 100! 300! These were the only English words they spoke. Eventually I bought more than I wanted, and a man called Eric sold me a bag. I go by the name Eric. I work in the market no problem. Unable to dissuade him, he escorted me round, holding my bag, and I felt obliged to buy some oranges (they were brown). I gave him 200 for his trouble and thanked him. Next time you are here I will come. I am Eric work in the market no problem.

Unfortunately I didn't take my phone to the market so I have no photographs, but here is my pile of fruit. I don't know what I'll do with it since my breakfasts and dinners are made for me every day.