And Then I Called Mama

Yesterday I went to the market. I love the market in our town, it is so big and my Kinyarwanda is just good enough to bargain (most of the time). Since I am moving into a house that has literally nothing. It has become very clear that due to this circumstance I will have to be strategic when buying things to bring to my new home, since I have a very limited budget. This is why my friend Cara and I asked her Mama if she would accompany us to help us bargain. Although this was great idea, Mama Odette has very limited English and Cara and I have very limited Kinyarwanda. While I can communicate basic needs and wants in Kinyarwanda I am totally lost when the conversation reaches beyond my vocabulary, but at least this way we knew we had someone working in our favor.

Usually when I bargain in the market I tell them ‘I am not an Umuzungu (foreigner), I am a Rwandan’ in Kinyarwanda and they immediately lower the price, but I didn’t have to do that today, with Mama Odette on my side. I was able to buy plates and bowls for my new home for much less than they were charging me.

The struggles of today came when it came to the big purchase. The goal of today was to leave with an aluminum metal trunk and to figure out how to get it home. Mama Odette was amazing with bargaining for it and made sure Cara and I each got the best trunk. I was able to communicate that I can’t walk home with this large trunk, and immediately a bike taxi was found and a price was negotiated to bring the bike to my house. Then I was asked where my house was and all communication broke down. I was able to tell them I lived near the Restoration Church and the Soccer field in Place village, but other than that I had no way of describing where I lived. After 15 minutes of frustrated conversation trying to describe that I live behind the soccer field across from the church in a house with blue door and that my Mama is a prison guard and her husband is on a UN mission in Sudan; still no one had any idea what I was saying. I puled out my phone and did the only other thing I could think of.

I called Mama.

I immediately handed the phone to the women since I could not figure out an easy way to explain this situation in English. They luckily explained the situation to her and handed the phone back to me, where I heard Mama laughing and asking if I was okay. I tried to explain that they needed directions to the house, knowing she probably wont understand my English through a phone. Mama Odette told me to sit and the man carried my trunk away. I crossed my fingers that the trunk would magically be at my house when I walked back.

Mama wasn’t home when I got there, but my sisters excitedly ran up to me when I walked into the door and dragged me towards the door where my trunk sat. It made it home. Although I did have to call my Mama for help, I still made a successful trip to the market.