It's like Christmas, wrapped in package paper, covered with stamps:

It starts with a promise. A hint or a subtle word that something special is 'on it's way." No, I am not talking about a baby or even large sums of cash, although the cash wouldn't be unwelcome I'm sure. The slight jump in your heart when you hear that word. The anticipation that starts building the moment you hear it. The wonder at what the surprise will bring. A package. As soon as someone lets on that there is a box with your name on it crossing oceans, you begin counting the days until the ETA. This in itself is a dangerous game as we are dealing with the highly organized and efficient Rwandan post office here. Nevertheless, the days are numbered. You being imagining and pondering, not wanting to directly ask what was sent so as not to ruin the wonder. Hopes are built up but it is manageable because it helps you realize what sorts of things to ask for in your next package if they don't happen to be in this one. It's amazing how much you can cram into your imaginary care packages too. It's almost magical how much those standard-flat rate boxes hold. So the days pass and you try to push from your mind the goodies on their way, even though it is always there in the back of your mind. And then, the day arrives. With any hope you are within the vicinity of your post box and have enough money to pay to moto to get you there. With even more absolute luck, the package will actually be there, on the day is was 'supposed' to arrive. So, the stars align and you have the means, the money, and the confirmation that there is indeed mail in your box, and there it is. Battered, bruised, looking about as good as you do stepping off a plane after 24 hour of travel, but still glorious to behold. You pay and clutch the box tightly, refusing even to let the moto driver keep it secure as you struggle onto the bike. It is a happy day now, no matter what. You get back home, and the good thing about packages, no one is jealous about someone else's package. They will actually get mad if you try to be considerate and open your box at some later time. Living vicariously through others when they get pieces of America is the next best thing. So, with everyone there watching and waiting, you slowly pick the weakest point, and attack, and you get to be home if only for a few seconds.