Street sweepers, Kigali Rwanda
We arrived on a Sunday and I was amazed that the streets were almost totally devoid of traffic.
I asked Jamie about the lack of cars. She said it was partially because it was Sunday, but also because most Rwandans don’t have cars.
It is very difficult to obtain a drivers license and cars are expensive. Thus most ride the motorbike taxis and some, the more costly car taxis. (See blog post Rwanda #5)
The city streets are wide, smooth and perfectly groomed. Not what I expected. The President is a stickler for cleanliness and grooming, thus the beautifully trimmed parks and spotless streets.
I soon saw how this order was maintained. Every block or so I saw women on the sides of the road and down the sidewalks—yes they had nice wide sidewalks! These women all had brooms handmade of straw and bound by cord.
Sweeping, sweeping, sweeping.
My boys were amazed at their limber backs. They were also pulling weeds, but instead of squatting as we do, they never bend their knees. They fold themselves over, legs straight, back rigid and walking bent as they go.
Many of the Rwandans in Kigali dressed in european clothing, but these street sweepers were always in full African garb, vivid dresses, and artfully wrapped turbans.
A clash of cultures.
Colorful street sweepers in native clothes
Against the backdrop of modern skyscrapers.
But these lovely streets were only in the public areas. Except in the most affluent neighborhoods, the side streets are atrocious. I would think many roads would be impassible—but I guess if you walk everywhere it is not a big deal.
They are raw, un-groomed and rough. Imagine a dirt road which also doubles as a drainage system—like a dry river bed. It must be terrible in the rainy season.
Dirt side streets
A bumpy, rutted, hilly, muddy mess.
But I think I just described my life.
From the outside I look well-groomed, always put together. The Texas girl in me never leaves the house without my makeup on, hair done and dressed just so. In a pinch I’ll pull a pony-tail or don a hat for the grocery store.
But behind that well-groomed facade of perfection, I feel a mess at times. The age old saga—too much to do, not enough time.
Work pulls, church pulls, family pulls, writing pulls. House never clean enough, study-time never carved out enough, family time never long enough. Period.
Pretending to have it all together helps no one, including me. When we are falling apart— reach out. Let someone know.
Pride is the black hole that often keeps us suffering in silence.
And when my life is a bumpy, rutted, hilly, muddy mess…
Jesus says come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28