Sitting in Bujumbura listening to The White Album on my ipod. “Bungalo Bill” at the moment. Loving it. Joey and I spent the day today rounding up some basic supplies around town. Notebook paper, mosquito nets, food supplies, Burundian Francs, etc. It is amazing how long it can take to achieve progress in any given direction here, figuratively and literally. It takes forever to make it across town amid the chaos of Bujumbura transit. Cars, buses, motorcycles, bicycles. People walking. People standing. People sitting. I have still not figured out the order of traffic here. Right-of-way to the right? Left? Gender? Age? Social status? Economic status? Intimidation? Free-for-all? Surely not the latter; I just haven’t figured it out yet.
As with the traffic, I still have a lot to learn about how everything else works here too. For how fast everyone is moving in the streets, it is amazing how slowly people move once they’ve reached their destination. Store, bank, restaurant, doesn’t matter; no one hurries. It took us two hours to obtain a few grilled fish skewers and Fantas from our waiter the other night. I watched a bank teller spend ten minutes retying his tie this afternoon before walking seven feet over to the counter to help me. Greetings take a long time; partings take a long time. I’m trying hard to forfeit my need for efficiency as appreciated in the Western world. Having invested much thought and effort towards “progress” in my life over the last three years, becoming use to the pace here is proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be. Some things I can control, many things I cannot; serenity is in recognition.
Much to learn.
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