That time you forgot your passport...

It’s not like you’ve been planning a weekend getaway to Rwanda for the past month or anything…

Not like you’ll be crossing a country border…

Not like you’ll need a passport for anything…

Right.

So let me tell you a little story about me and my forgetfulness…enjoy. (and keep in mind that I arrived safe and sound, passport in hand!)

Thursday after school, Marisa and I had planned on heading out of Muyenzi as quickly as possible. I had packed my bag in the morning, the house was clean and ready to be left unattended for the weekend, and I had my piki driver go straight home so we could simply pick up Marisa and be off. All was smooth sailing, we arrived in Rulenge around 3pm and hopped right into a taxi for Ngara. We planned on staying the night in Ngara with the other volunteers, so we could leave early in the morning for Kigali. Good plan, right?

Until you’re standing at the post office in Ngara where Marisa needed to show her passport ID…and you realize that you most certainly did not pack that essential document….

Great. Well at this point, it was either spend the weekend in Ngara without wifi, western food, hot water and a shower…or try to go back to Muyenzi and get the passport. I opted for the second option, getting into the next taxi that left Ngara, and made the hour long journey down the worst dirt road imaginable. One time is too many times down this road crammed in the backseat of a rickety taxi, so two times in a row is definitely too much. I was sitting next to a very nice woman on the way back though, so it was nice to share a friendly conversation with her. She assured me that the work I was doing here as a teacher is making a big impact on the students, and to continue to do great things. It’s so nice to hear that from a stranger…and her timing couldn’t have been better! I’m here for a reason I kept telling myself….

I initially planned on going back to Muynzi for the night, and then waking up early to catch the first bus or taxi out of Rulenge. Or, another option would be to ride back in the taxi with the driver, since he’s going back to Ngara anyways. I debated for awhile, mostly the whole hour long taxi ride, until finally the woman next to me assured me that it would be no problem for him to wait for me to get my passport before turning around. OK…

Thankfully, she was able to talk to the driver in Swahili to sort out the details of all of this. I got the driver’s number, just in case something happened, and so I could let him know when I was on my way back. And I got on the first piki I could and we zoomed home. Ten minutes later, and I was able to put the four buckets of water that were delivered to us inside, grab my passport, grab Marisa’s computer charger (since what good is electricity without the charger?) and we flew back to town. I texted the driver on the way saying I was returning in five minutes, and thankfully we found him waiting at the stand for me, just as planned!

It’s now 7pm, but at least it doesn’t get dark until after 7:30, so we’ll be back just after sundown. Not bad, I figured. So the taxi driver and I set off to Ngara, and for the first time in six months, I had the whole front seat to myself! How great is that?! Also, how great is it that he only spoke Swahili? We were able to carry on a somewhat broken conversation about teaching, America, food, the terrible roads, etc. He told me that I write Swahili very well, because my text to him was very nice. He also asked if the roads in America are this bad, or if I could drive the taxi for him. To which I answered “no” for both questions. Generally speaking, it wasn’t a bad ride, albeit very slow because driving on this road after sundown takes twice as long as in the daylight. You literally can’t hear yourself think, and a few times I thought we were going to lose a tire. But we kept on…until we stopped in the middle of literally nowhere, and the car wouldn’t start again. Lovely. This is the part of the story where things could potentially go very wrong. But, we were simply out of gas. Why not?

Luckily a truck was passing at that moment, and the driver could ask him to tell someone at the next stop up ahead to come with a few litres of petrol. At this point, the driver asked me if I was afraid, and I assured him that I was not, just that this does not often happen in America…Within ten minutes, some boys came bearing three litres of petrol and we were off again. Phew!!!

It was after 8 by this point in the drive, but we were very near the paved road, so it was smooth sailing from then on. He asked me my name, told me we were friends, saved my phone number in his phone, and told me he was going to call me to great me often. It’s also possible that he’s going to visit me in Muyenzi, but something may have been lost in translation at that point. We’ll see about that one…

Considering how late it was at this point, he kindly offered to take me directly to Alex and Sue’s house, just through town. Of course, we needed to stop for more gas at the actual station, where he bought some banana flavored bubble gum and so kindly offered me a piece. Don’t worry mom, I know I’m not supposed to take candy from a stranger, but at this point he assured me we were friends…

And I was literally two minutes from their house.

We finally arrived at 8:45pm…only six hours after this whole journey began, and as a departing gift, I got the whole pack of bubble gum! How nice is that?

What a story. What a night to remember. What a way to ensure that I never, EVER,  forget my passport again…