Two years ago today, I arrived in Burundi. I’m writing this on march 16th , 2009. On the same date in 2007, Trina and I walked off the Kenya airways plane onto the Bujumbura International Airport runway. It was super hot and muggy. Tambry and Dan Brose were with us on that flight. We knew we were going to live in this country two years, that there was no way we were going to leave early. My mind was full of thoughts, I didn’t know what sort of decision I had made and I missed many friends and family… second guessing myself is habit and I made sure to do it a lot.
Sara Matthews drove us to our house after some hugs and handshakes at the airport. We still live at the same house, and Lizzy and Doug who greeted us at the airport, helped get us adjusted, and would later become great friends. It’s been an interesting journey, of learning, successes, failures, and constant adventure of sorts in the way of travels, interesting dilemmas, and social events that are just not normal in the States. I was talking with one of my oldest friends here (Brando, and oldest in the sense length of time, not age) just yesterday, talking about how we were as artists when we first arrived, excited about everything, a sponge, constantly learning, barely keeping our cameras in their cases, and how now, we’re much more reserved, taking out the camera less and less. Less keen on traveling unless we get something we’re really looking for. We talked about how we’re not blogging as much, do to a loss of novelty of things we daily experience. I realized in that moment, that I was 2 years in country, we were in a sense, old school. We had seen many people come and go, we had been in the trenches, and learned tons. Burundi is one of the most eccentric universities in the world and we were sophomores, when most people dropped out before their freshman year ended. I was thinking how I have to blog in the moment, if I don’t I just loose my excitement, how life is now normalized. When I first arrived, everybody was new, I had to make an effort to meet people again. I had to learn how to use a phone all over again, and a sim card. I learned how to text, which I’d never done before in the States. Language lessons, cultural studying. I remember walking into the capital of Burundi, before I bought a car, exploring the streets, trying to talk to people, nervous, scared of the unknown, watching my back constantly. I remember changing my U.S. Dollars into Burundi Francs, and thinking how cool it was that that was something I would have to do every couple weeks. I remember thinking, every local I meet is an opportunity to learn things I would never be able to learn in the States. Everything was new and exciting and ambiguous. I remember taking my French English dictionary with me everywhere, looking up words on signs and stores, so I could figure out what was inside before I would enter. I remember shopping for the first time, getting prices from locals, and learning how to barter. I’ve seen friends marry, and friends die.
It was a new life, and I was excited to enter into it everyday. Now this city is home. Nothing is new, it’s all very normal, even crazy things. I’ve lost my new eyes, I’m made judgments about things, I’ve been burned a bunch, I’ve been blessed a bunch. Almost nothing is news worthy. I rarely feel like changing money. I don’t like my phone, I don’t like driving in the city, except by motor bike. There are so many things I do like, but I find I don’t blog about them… not like I used to do. I looked up my journal for my first couple of entries to see what I was thinking two years ago. Turns out I wrote a quick paragraph my third day here. I thought I’d share a few of my early journals in honor of our two year anniversary in Burundi, they are nothing exciting. In fact they are boring. But I laugh as I read them on so many levels. Mainly because I see how new I was, even though at the time, I thought I was unique in so many ways, I thought I new more than most new people. But my journal entries, are just like every blog I’ve read of people who come here and begin writing instantly whether they are here for a brief period or a long time. It’s fascinating how we all take the same road… and yet very strange. Sheep comes to mind.

March 18th 2007

It’s my third day in Africa. I arrived in Bujumbura on march 16th 2007. It hasn’t quite been a year since I quit working for Scott, and I think it’s been the best decision in my life to change direction from simply working to fund my lifestyle, without challenging myself, just existing to pay bills, and fund a social life. I couldn’t have done it without Trina though. I’ve met a lot of people here in Burundi, and they are all similar to me in more ways than usual encounters in the States. The Canadians I’ve met are Kyle, Brandon, Doug, Deanna. Some Britts, Simon, Lizzie, Duncan. ane from Scottland, and Benidicta from Norway. All of them have exceeded my expectations, and I’m forgetting a few other people now, but I’ve only just met them. It’s been super hot, and I worry about the Sony. I hope the equipment works well here, but I’m skeptical. Today is day one of work and we’re going to the office feeling anxious, like I’m in over my head.

March 24th 2007
One week in. We went to a Burundi “end of a week of mourning” gathering at the wife of Elehud. He (Elehud) died almost two weeks prior, cause of death unknown, but lots of suggestions. The atmosphere was more jovial than I would have expected. The family served us a meal, and some drinks. I had a lime soda drink called citron. The food was fried banana in a red oily sauce with three chunks of meat. Trina had a small cooked cockroach in her dish, which caused us to laugh a bit. There were about 30 of us that gathered. I was one of 5 bazungu. We sang and prayed, and read scripture, and hugged, gave appropriate financial gifts to the widow and just tried to spend time with her in her grief. The wife of Elehud seemed to be doing remarkably well. Of course Dan Brose is amazing in all these cultural contexts and is highly respected by all. It’s a privilege to watch him. He’s the Pat Thurman of Burundi in social contexts, then a brilliant entrepreneur, humble servant, and a wise teacher… Tambry is a mother Teresa with spunk, a great mind, youthful zeal, and too many other gifts to list… not to get too complementarian, but she is “the hostess with the most-est.” I’ve shot very little, and am learning very much. I have to start editing soon, lest I forget all I’ve learned about my editing software. Plus, it will be enlightening, learning if laptops and film editing will be possible in this heat, humidity, and dust.

March 27th
Had a meeting with Desire the security officer for world relief. He said a new group of gorilla force is forming under Radjabu and uniting with the “friends of Rwanda” group. Radjabu was high in the winning party’s parliament, and was disposed by the President, and now has raise 20 million, and is supposedly hiring local poor taxi driver and delivery boys to take bombs into as many public/govt/church buildings and create death and terror. I remember it seeming quite odd, listening to the Logistics officer. I noticed though Trina had lots of questions, she stayed remarkably calm, and didn’t seem to worry much after the briefing. She’s amazing that one.

April 15th
Almost a month in Africa. Just got back from Rwanda, we stayed in a lake front cabin on lake Kivu, sort of a weekend team getaway together. There was no electric or water. We brought water with us, and bathed in the lake. There were excellent thunderstorms, and I read Chronicles of Narnia, as the thunder echoed across the canyon. We went with Sara, Tambry, Aaron, Austin, and we met the Vinton family, a missionary family from Congo. They were great. They had some impressive stories. We played risk, read lots, swam lots, ran, hiked, and watched movies on Sue Vinton’s laptop. It was charged by a battery that Bill Vinton bought illegally in Congo. The battery was high quality and super heavy. Monkeys played in the front yard, and there were pretty exotic birds hanging out as well. I read, “A horse and his boy”, and “Prince Caspian.” I studied French. It only took three hours to drive to the cabin because the road on the Rwanda side is now paved. On my last trip in 2005, it took all day to drive to the same location because of the rain, and the bad road at the time. Rwanda is developing fast. I think in time, this region of Rwanda will be a resort town.
April 29th
It’s Sunday, two days after I turned 30. I’ve been here a month and a half, and this is the first time that I don’t feel sick for one week straight. I think my body has adjusted. We went on a huge road trip with the Brose’s to raft the Nile. It was very incredible. We passed a flipped semi truck, on our way to the Nile. Fantastic coffee shops in Rwanda. Things are going pretty well. French lessons are hilarious at the French cultural center. This place is crazy. A great birthday experience.
So nothing great right, but what I notice about myself through these early journals is that now, I’m much different in how I notice things. Admittedly a basic observation. But in moments in ones life, basic things become profound for a minute, then basic again. On every trip I take I see multiple accidents, some quite severe, mainly involving semi trucks, but I don’t comment on them at all in my journals or otherwise, I don’t talk about anything now, that I once would have. I know that’s natural, as places and happenings loose their novelty after time, but I do think we should fight this habit to let life loose novelty. Fight to record the seemingly normal, because I bet there is a lot we could learn, and we could challenge our natural instincts to become numb to most things. Easy to blog about… I wonder if I’ll actually do it.