Mugged.

I’m totally freaked out. I’m hoping blogging and telling the somewhat surreal story of tonight will calm my nerves and help me go to sleep. It had to happen sometime and tonight my utopian view of Rwanda came crashing down around me and has left me shaken not only with insecurity but the feeling of loss concerning my enchantment with everything Rwanda.

I’m staying in Kigali to meet with some people about Kurera to ask for some advice concerning accounting, taxes, and grant-writing. My field director and I decided we would meet for a curry at an Indian restaurant she had told me about to go over a grant I had been working on. After a good meal, we were walking back towards St. Paul’s, the hostel where I am staying, on an uncharacteristically desolate street. For anyone who knows Kigali I was right in front of Ice and Spice.

Jessi had a small purse she was holding in her left hand and I was holding my computer, which I had brought to show her the new temporary website as well as swap pictures with her. We were walking towards a group of guys about my age and I didn’t think anything of it until all of a sudden one of them sprinted towards us and grabbed Jessi’s wallet. Before I even knew what was happening she was off, chasing after him screaming and trying to get help. I was paralyzed. I’ve never felt so helpless/stupid/insecure/foreign in my entire life. I mean honestly, there I am standing on a dark street, alone, holding a laptop, right next to a group of men who presumably knew the man who Jessi was chasing, without the slightest clue what to do with myself. So naturally I started to laugh because it seems to be the only reaction I am capable of in stressful situations.

As my laughing began to border on hysteria a crowd formed around me looking very inquisitive at this strange mzungu standing in the middle of the street (I guess I subconsciously thought that was safer) holding a laptop and seemingly having a nervous breakdown. Jessi was out of sight, so then I began to panic about what would happen if she actually did catch the guy, I also didn’t know if she had turned or run straight because it all happened so fast and on dark streets. After a couple minutes I hailed a moto and asked him to wait with me because a friend of the group of people who were standing staring at me had stolen my friends wallet and I didn’t know what to do. He understood about a third of what I said but it was enough to get him to wait with me.

All of a sudden I got really angry. I love Rwanda. I love that I feel so safe in Rwanda and I really hated how unsafe I felt in that moment. I hated that one person or group of people could instantly make me feel so insecure. So I turned to them and I said, quite crossly, “You are bad for Rwanda! I feel safe here and now I’m not safe and that’s bad! You’re bad.” The moto driver kind of chuckled at me and I guess thought I could handle myself (don’t know what gave him that idea) and told me he was going to look for my friend. I stared after him quite dumbfounded and then rather sheepishly turned around to the group of people I had just told off (not that they understood) and smiled. I never saw the moto driver again but Jessi pulled up a minute or so later on a white horse of sorts. A very nice man named Jean-Baptiste had come to her rescue.

Jean-Baptiste took us to the police station where the police officer didn’t bother with a report and instead we all just stood listening to different men in uniform exclaim, ‘O Sorry!’ after the story was told to them. Afterwards he dropped me off here at St. Paul’s and I think in my panic I might have just offended a nun who was trying to give me my change from when I paid earlier but I gave her the third degree in my terrible French before I opened the door even a crack.

Update: This whole episode happened last Sunday night but I’ve been sick so I haven’t been to school/internet to post. My trip to Kigali only got more dramatic on Monday. I went to the Ministry of Education to meet with Jessi again an then was off to meet with the accountant. I stepped on to the moto a little off balance and at the same time the moto driver leaned to the right, which was the side I was getting on from. Of course it’s highly possible that my losing my balance led to me leaning heavily on his shoulder and thus causing the lean but I like the version where we share responsibility. Either way, my leg and his exhaust pipe met and I have the gaping wound to show for it. So that’s it, by my next blog I’ll be back to my positive I love Rwanda self.