The house at the school

     Initially I was pretty shocked by my accommodations at EDD.  But once I bought an adequate supply of bottled water and toilet paper, I began to feel quite at home.  I got into the habit of sitting outside my door on a little ledge there, drinking coffee,

"My" sitting area at "my" house

and enjoying the morning sun complete with lots of bird calls, the voices of kids playing at the school (perhaps 100 yards away), and the voices of passers-by chatting on the street up the hill from the house.  It amused me that a few days into my stay, I could hear the word "American" punctuate conversations that were otherwise in Kinyarwanda.  Word travels.
     "My" portion of the house consisted of two bedrooms (the other of which was occupied only one night by my British roommates, who moved on the second day--was it something I said?), a bathroom, kitchen, and little sitting room.  There were at least two others homes in the same building, one belonging to Jean-Claude, who is a former resident of EDD and now works there in a counselling and logistical capacity, and one belonging to the cook at EDD and her daughters. 
     The youngest daughter is Dalia, who became my new best friend.  She was getting close to 10

years old.  She and I enjoyed many companionable hours together the week I was at EDD.  We had many interests in common, and I particularly enjoyed her sharp wit, her obvious intelligence, and her absolutely insouciant attitude about being the only little girl living amongst 160 young boys.   She gave me the impression, without actually saying so, that she firmly believed they just weren't worth worrying about.  I know that will change in a few years, but at this point, Dalia could not be less interested.
     Dalia and I enjoyed painting small watercolors together.  Most of hers were of the greeting card format, and occasionally I get the best feeling when I come across one of the little cards she made for me.






Here's one of them:

It was Dalia's school break time when I was there, and we talked about school a lot.  She was very much looking forward to getting back to school, which she loved.  She told me she was third in her class.  I was surprised, actually.  It was hard for me to imagine any 9-year-olds quicker and more articulate than Dalia.
     I like to play Sudoku, and I almost always pick up the biggest book of hard Sudokus the airport shops have to offer.  I had one with me at EDD, and Dalia wanted to know what it was all about.  She picked it up in no time.

Dalia learns first world frustration

A few days ago, I sent Dalia a big book of sudodu puzzles.  I hope that every time she gets angry and upset and mutters "Oh my God,"  she will think of me.