Evariste, mfite ikibazo

Often I forget that I am living in the middle of a tiny African country, alone in my town. My house, with reliable and daily electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, a Queen size bed, and Evariste to be both neighbor and guard, is whole-heartedly 'Mazungu.' I am pretty much living in the lap of Peace Corps Rwanda luxury. I get so comfortable in my surroundings, many times I don't remember where I am, at least until I hear the scritch scratch in the corner of my bedroom. I have duct taped the bottoms of most of my doors in the hopes of dispelling the worst of the dust and some critters but somehow, this one guy has found a way in. I had yet to determine if it is a rat, mouse, shrew, or some hybrid of all the above. Small and black with a long tail and snout, this guy runs from corner to corner and gives me a heart attack whenever I catch site of him scurrying. I never considered myself the 'jump on the chair and scream' type of girl but this guy has made me do just that. I happened to be enjoying some relaxing before getting ready for bed when I heard him. A metallic scratching was coming from my sitting room, and from my bed I could just barely make out a moving shape in my frying pan sitting under my chair (I put it there when I'm done cooking to let it cool). Heart beating I stalk him slowly, trying to get the courage to shoo him out my front door. Thankfully I hear Evariste walking by so I call out and say that I have a problem. I run back to my bedroom, grab my Kinyarwanda dictionary, thumb through it quickly, and then announce, "imbeba!" He understands, probably laughing to himself at my inability to handle this myself, and comes to help. His solution is to corner the rat where he can grab him with his bare hands, though in the end he herded him towards the open door where the beast disappeared into the night. Blech. It's times like this that 1) I am extremely thankful Evariste lives next door and 2) I remember where I am.