Red Dirt

This morning Dibal (who, as you may be getting the gist of, is a very straight forward kind of guy) told me my shoes were dirty, and asked me "Why did you not polish them?" He said I normally look much sharper. I looked down to see my normally black flats coated in a layer of red dirt. I guess I'm not used to the abundance of dust that finds its way into everything. Seriously, everything. The dirt here reminds me of PEI with its red tinge. I can't help but wonder if I could make a Rwandan Dirt Shirt company. After walking down a dirt road for mere minutes you can find it hard to breath due to the dust, smoke from cooking, and car exhuast coating your lungs. We have dubbed this "being exhausted". If you blow your nose on a particularily dusty day you'll find your boogies even a little red. My navy bag is dusty looking, my birks have taken on a lighter shade of brown, and evidently my flats need polishing.

I can't say I've polished my shoes since choir performances way back when patent leather was all the rage (although I guess it's cool again now. I wouldn't know though). However, I took out a tissue on the ride to work and wiped my shoes down. There is an obsession with cleanliness here, even despite the underdevelopment. There is a whole team of "Kigali City Cleaners" employed who sweep the roads, hunched over using hand brooms made from straw or grass, pick up garbage, and maintain the city in a presentable state. It is really quite remarkable how tidy the grass is cut, how clean the streets are. So the least I could do was polish my shoes.