Glitterbug

What an amazing night!

It started out so differently. I was supposed to meet a friend at a concert, only she cancelled just after I got out the shower. This sent me into a bit of a slump, because I suddenly realised that all the people I love have left the country, and most aren't coming back. The exception is Jo, but she's got her daughter so can't just drop things for a night out.

It's a constant hazard of being a long-term expat. You meet a lot of people, then you lose them over time if you're not the one to leave first. This has always been the case, but the past year has been a little bit worse than usual. A mass exodus. It usually feels like there's an overlap between friends coming and friends going, but lately it's been one-way traffic.

So, I was feeling pretty glum. I posted this on a forum for expats. It's an international group where people living outside their home countries can gripe and complain about the things that get them down. This can be cultural differences, bureaucracy, language barriers - whatever. It's a supportive group that 'respects the grump.' A place to let off steam to people who understand what it's like and won't judge you or tell you to get over it or 'go back home.'

One guy replied in Kigali, saying he'd given up making new friends in 2016 for that reason. Making solid friendships takes time and conversation, which takes effort. This can be draining if the people you make the effort with go on to leave in the next few weeks or months. I met an American tourist the other night who said, 'Every time I talk to someone, they ask me how long I'm staying.' That's why. It's not that people don't want to be friendly, but they're wondering how much of themselves to share. Constantly repeating your coming out (to the country) story gets tiring. Most people coming to Kigali are only passing through. There's a very high turnaround of new faces, which is why the old, familiar ones are so important. Other long-termers become a cornerstone of your daily life. You don't lose the friendship when they leave, but you can't just call them up for a drink or pop round to their house like you used to.

The guy who replied agreed to come keep me company at the concert, and when I got there I bumped into a couple of other friends. Kigali really is a village. Before long we were chatting away about really existential stuff. It came down to three of us: a Rwandan woman, a Pakistani gentleman and a British woman. Sounds like the start of a joke, right? But that is something I love about living here. You meet people from just about every background and culture, and can talk freely and ask questions. Often, in the UK, I feel there's an extreme pressure to be 'respectful of people's culture' to the extent where many people are too afraid to ask questions for fear of upsetting someone. We're all curious about each other, we all have biases, presumptions and preconceptions, and most of us have a healthy curiosity about the world. So it was a fun conversation and I'm looking forward to seeing them again.

The band were absolutely stunning. Fulu Miziki - Kinshasa's answer to glam rock.

Their costumes and most of their instruments are made from recycled materials.

They had some serious energy and we were up front dancing away. It was definitely one of the most original acts I've ever seen in Kigali and everyone loved it. There were loads of people wandering around with face glitter and fairy lights wrapped around them.

I'd been up since five in the morning. I decided to self-medicate with praziquantel, which is a treatment for bilharzia. I don't think I had it, but it's notoriously tough to test for, wasn't an impossibility, and after talking to a couple of friends who'd had it, I thought it was worth just taking the pills for safety's sake. They only cost 2,000 francs (£1.70/$2). The only thing is that you have to take four of them at six-hour intervals, which meant waking up at 5 a.m. to take the last dose. They can also make you feel tired when mixed with alcohol, so I was a cheap date. Three small Mutzig and I was done.

After the concert, we headed down the hill to an after party at someone's house. It ended up being pretty packed and the night was getting cold, so the plan was to head to Envy for brochettes. I needed the loo before we went, but discovered there was only one bathroom and about ten people queueing. 

It was in the queue that I met this guy with the most amazing glitter across his face. Blue and gold, with stars on his nose. 

When I finally got through the bathroom, I saw him outside standing by himself, so went to invite him to come and sit with us. Only, whilst I was doing that, a couple of other people helped themselves to our chairs. 

I was completely knackered by then, and cold, and hungry, and ready to go home. So I said goodbye to my friends and started for the gate. Only, glitter guy insisted on walking me to find a moto. I was thinking 'thanks, but please don't' - but he was very insistent. 

There were no motos, so we had a cigarette and started talking. 

He surprised me. A Nigerian student in a Barmah hat, self-proclaimed 'Bohemian' and well read. We talked books for about twenty minutes. I asked him my three questions. I think I've mentioned this before? It might sound arrogant, but when I'm drunk and tired and not sure if I can be bothered to talk to somebody, I ask three questions: 1. What do you think of abortion, 2. How do you feel about gay people, and 3. What happens after we die? Obviously, everyone's entitled to their opinion, but it's nice to know what that opinion is quickly, so you can figure out if it's worth getting to know them better. It's also interesting to see if they ask you your opinion in return. I've made some really good friends by cutting to the chase in this way, and avoided a few major personality clashes. I guess you could say I don't go in for small talk much.

He answered the questions and, when he asked for my number, I didn't say no.

He wanted to know what I was doing today but work is crazy until the end of next week and I have a lot to catch up on. 

Partly that, and partly I need a moment.

I wasn't expecting this, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it. Everything still feels a bit raw. But S isn't coming back, I'm sure he's moved on, so maybe it's not a bad thing. I just wanted a minute to think about it, because it would be like finally admitting that there's no way back from this. If he's still interested by next weekend, once all my work is done, maybe we'll have a drink. He did make me smile.

It was just a really nice night. The music was amazing. I realised that even though my close friends have gone, I'm not exactly alone in the city. I can go to pretty much any event and know people. It's still a fun place to live. And, regardless of whether I see the glitter guy again, it was really nice to be noticed and I enjoyed the conversation. It was a confidence boost, and I needed that.