Touch and Taste

Touch:
Much as the smells of Rwanda were very quickly noticeable, I was also quickly aware of the differences of touch here. The best way I could describe it, especially initially, was always touched but never felt. As I would suppose would be the tendency of most over-crowded situations, people here are frequently jammed together in small spaces (especially in regards to transport-both finding it and using it) but it is as though they do not feel you there with them. Coming from a place where people value and even demand their personal space, and where touching another person is typically a noticed and intentional act, I was initially unsure quite how to process this new way of life. Another aspect of touch that quite fascinated me was that not only was unintentional touch quite unnoticed, but intentional is also much more frequent than I am accustomed to. With each greeting, it is expected that you will at least shake the hand of your companion, whether well known or a new acquaintance-though the form of ‘handshake’ can vary considerably from someone offering you their wrist to and extended hand-hold to the triple-cheek-touch of a close friend. I do believe I have offended my colleagues on occasion as I forgot to extend a hand in my morning greetings, and quickly breezed by them with words and a smile. I am learning. The third surprise for my reserved sense of space that I have encountered here is that of hand-holding. Although I had been informed before arriving that men might often be seen holding hands, I still marveled to see it for myself. In fact, I am still somewhat fascinated by this practice, though it does not surprise me nearly as much as it did initially. Much less commonly will two women be seen holding hands, and only on occasion have I seen a man and woman walk hand-in-hand—and even then, I could not tell you whether the two were friends or lovers, the act of holding hands is not reserved here for acts of intimacy, at least not in my traditional American standard. But it is intimacy, I suppose; it is sharing yourself with another person, displaying care or affection without having to express your appreciation with words. That actually sounds a lot like something men would prefer (in general, of course), doesn’t it? Either way, I think it will be some time before seeing two teenage boys, dressed to impress and walking hand in hand not give me pause.
Taste:
This sense has not been especially impressed nor indulged since my arrival. The common food here is rather simple, containing vegetables, French fries, sometimes rice, and often some form of red sauce, content of which unknown by me, which often contains beef, to be poured over the rest of the contents of the plate. Cheese is uncommon, and not especially enjoyable when found, meat is often tough, and its flavor mediocre, spices are not indulged in, and sweets are typically less sweet than I am accustomed to. There are some foods here which I especially appreciate though; fruit (though variety is limited) is fresh and delicious, avocado (is that a fruit?) is terrific and very easy to find, and I recently had a cup of what is called “African tea” that tasted just like what an American would call a Chai Latte…delicious. Not to worry, I have not gone hungry even once, and there are a variety of restaurants around Kigali that attempt (and are successful to various degrees) to please the Western palette, but learning to eat (and cook) in Rwanda are undeniably a time for change-and at times a challenge as well.