Oh what a day

November 3, 2010 marked the day I turned a quarter of a century, a milestone made that much more poignant by the fact that I celebrated in Rwanda. Granted, the majority of birthdays have been spent in another country but this seemed acutely unique. As with any irony of fate, the day managed to run the entire spectrum of emotions. It started out well enough, no frustrating or unruly scenes made by my dogs and I ended up at work with a smile. I opted to work in the maternity center, since I had a slight connection with the babies that would be born that day. Unfortunately, of the three women that were in the maternity center, all three ended up being transfered to Kibuye. Slightly disgruntled, I saw fit to mope a little in the office with no work to do, until a coworker and friend of mine stopped in and presented me with an awesome necklace for the occasion. Noon came around and I was all set to head home with the thought that I had to go to Kibuye that day to buy more kerosene for my stove. I mentioned this to my tutilere who, after a bout of laughter, informed me I could get kerosene at the health center, and then proceeded to gift me 2 litres. With kerosene in tow I headed home. My phone rings and it is my brother, Jeremy with a birthday wish, along with his entire class who he was in the middle of teaching. My spirits greatly lifted, I head to lunch. Of course as it always happens, the moment I think I am finally recognized in the community, every person decides they need to remind me I am a mazungu. Already frustrated by the name-calling, I head back to work after lunch only to be stopped on three separate occasions by children asking for money. Mind you this a total of a 10 minute walk and I haven't had anyone ask for money for months. By the third group of kids I am close to tears in frustration and end up talking back to them; in English. Back at work, I am bored again in the maternity center when a women comes in with intense pain. She was only 7 months so we are already on alert. The nurses go to check the fetal heartbeat. They call the tutilere in who does the same. Nothing. The baby had died in utero. The mother gave birth to a 500 gram stillborn child and then the work day was done. I walked back with coworkers composing myself and since it was my birthday, the day had to turn up in the end. I was serenaded by my parents and enjoyed a great birthday dinner. For being one of the better and also one of the hardest birthdays I've ever had, it certainly was memorable.