Swimmingly Good Monday

Aaah, it's a tough life. Worked the entire weekend away, so decided to hold my Monday meeting at Nyarutarama Tennis Club, which has the largest pool (I think?) in Kigali. Also the most expensive, but I felt like a bit of pampering.

I'm feeling awesome for the exercise. Got there a little early and did some lengths. I am so out of shape. All this beer and sitting at a desk is doing nothing for my health. New resolution: concerted exercise at least once a week and a change in diet. I ate an entire tub of Nutella last week...

Just trying to survive the business start-up phase at the moment. Everything else will sort itself out in the fullness of time.

Mondays ain't so bad.

A productive meeting and a beautiful sunset on the way home.

 

Just what the doctor ordered. I'm feeling relaxed, but sleep deprived. In the two years I lived in Rwanda before, I think I had maybe three really vivid nightmares. 

The first one was by far the worst. I woke to find myself sitting bolt upright, with this strange apparition standing at the end of my bed.

[7th December 2007]

Eventually, I guess I must have dozed off.

The next thing I know, I’m awake, bolt-upright in my bed. Literally, I must have sat up and then woken – terrified because there’s someone in my room! I’m not sure what the hell’s going on. My eyes adjust to see a headless African woman in a red shirt standing at the end of my bed ‘looking’ at me.

After a yelp of fright, I’m desperately fumbling for the torch whilst shouting ‘WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?’ For want of a weapon, I'm kicking my foot at it. But it didn’t move...  I got the torch on and shone it straight ahead.

There was nothing there.  

I promise you, I'm not someone who spooks easily, but these dreams were so incredibly vivid. There was a person standing at the end of my bed. Not a shadow, not a coat on a chair... a person. I could see every detail clearly.

The past couple of nights I've slept terribly, which is odd, as I usually drift off quickly. Last night, I woke to see a man standing next to my bed. Exactly as happened before: I gave a yelp of fright and started screaming 'WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?' like a woman possessed. 

I thought I was being burgled and screaming at him might make him go away. Instead, he smiled, reached his hands through the mosquito net, and gripped my arm!

Then the room was dark again and there was just me in bed. I was terrified. I reached for my phone and lay there with the light on for a long time. 

I have no idea whether I was actually screaming or not, but I think I heard our guard walk past the window. Maybe he was checking, or maybe he was off to the loo. It was more the fact that I was shouting exactly the same thing as before that really spooked me.

Anyway, I'll expect the men in white coats round tomorrow.

I blame it on Lindsey's pancakes.

In an attempt to find something other than pasta and rice to eat, I've taken to making flour-based food. My friend Lindsey up in Killin makes them with turmeric, nutmeg and cinnamon. I couldn't find cinnamon, so I make them with cardamon instead, which is possibly my favourite of all the spices.

• 1 egg
• Four or Five tablespoons of plain flour
• Spices
• Mix in enough milk for a thick but runny paste
• Pour the batter into a frying pan with very hot oil

Then I add bananas and honey.

Makes for a yummy breakfast, but nutmeg is renown in folklore for causing crazy dreams.

Not that I wasn't crazy before I started making pancakes, but I don't think it helps.

The other thing I did yesterday was this:

I had completely forgotten how difficult it is to eat a coconut!

Just getting into one is quite an accomplishment.

As this is turning into a food-related post (I've been here just long enough for the cravings to start kicking in...), there are few pleasures in life as simple as fried egg on toast. Black Pepper is probably my second favourite spice, after cardamom.

Less mentally agressive breakfast than pancakes.

On the way back from the pool, I discovered this! It caused my spoon to sparkle like Excalibur. Can you guess what it is?

Ice-cream! Or some such variant. Slightly more like a slushy, but still quite nice on a hot afternoon in Kigali. I think it's sort of chocolate.

And, finally, I've started craving these. I don't ever remember having a boiled-sweet addiction last time around (gosh, sounds like pregnancy!) but I can't seem to stop buying them. They're like Werther's Original (in fact, I suspect they were just re-branded for the UK). Not something I'd ever usually eat, and I'm trying to find a substitute for the sake of my teeth. Think I just really need to start cooking better, which will happen once I sort out my domestic arrangements. 

For now I think I'll just pop another Alpenliebe and shake it all out. I'll probably burn off the calories worrying about my business. Maybe I can feed them to the apparition and we can hold late-night poker matches over a bottle of waragi. 

My roomie can be the croupier.

Man... I really need some sleep.

He's so diddy! About the size of my little finger.