"Where everybody knows your name..."

I have been living in Rwanda for over a year now, so naturally people are starting to recognize me as a local around here (not that I stick out or anything). The town Musanze, where I have spent most of my time, is the most populated area of Rwanda, which is well known to be the most populated country in all of Africa. There are literally people covering the town at all hours of the day...but very few white people besides several other non-profits and the tourists passing through. So I love it when I go for a run in the mornings, or to my favorite restaurants, or to the local market…and everyone greets me by name. Or when I am sitting on my front porch and neighborhood children (and adults for that matter) come peer through the blue front gate to say hello. Or when I am driving down the two mile stretch to school with the windows rolled down and every few seconds I here “Anna!” yelled out from all directions by the local children. Or when the moto-taxi (motorcycle taxi service...with literally hundreds of drivers around here) driver says“Thanks Anna” as I pay him his 300 francs. Or when random numbers constantly call my phone just to say hello, with me having no idea who the caller is (ok, maybe I don't love that!). I not-so-politely asked one of those callers the other day where he got my number, to which he responded that some children were giving it out:)

One of my favorite, most random events in the last year happened a few months ago when all of my roommates were hanging out in our Musanze house one Saturday afternoon. This man, who our guard mistakenly let in the gate because he said he was “friends with Anna,” just walked right in our door and sat down with us in our living room, greeting us like we were old friends. All of us sat in shock, until I finally asked: “Who are you??” To which he casually replied: “This is my home!”, “You are my wife!” (pointing to me), and “I am the President of Rwanda!” His face seemed quite alarmed that we did not recognize him as our roommate, husband, or the President of the country. So we sat in astonishment at the absurdity of the situation for a few more minutes as this man repeatedly professed how much he loved his wife Anna and how honored he was to be the President of this fine country. Finally, Museveni graciously ushered our friend out the door. We soon came to know him as the harmless town crazy, Joseph, whom I still see walking the streets frequently. And he always greets me: “Hello, my wife.”

In America, I might have been alarmed at random people calling me at all hours of the day and a crazy man convinced that I am his wife…but here in Rwanda I just find it harmlessly humorous.

I am a small town girl at heart, so I like being in a place where everybody knows my name.