The thin man washed his dark face in a large bowl of cool water and slowly dressed in his native clothing. He wrapped himself in a long colorful Gandura and put on several bracelets. He found his rough, handmade, sandals made from old leather furniture and worn out tire tread soles under his bed and slipped them on. A single open light bulb that illuminated he and his wife’s small bedroom.

His well pressed police uniform hung in the narrow closet in his office at police headquarters. He would change into it when he arrived at work at 8:30, if all went well.

“Hows the coffee coming my dear,” he said in French to his wife of thirty years.

“It’s nearly ready my dear,” she answered in perfect French.

His wife made breakfast while he dressed. She wore a colorful mushana wrap and matching head covering. She had a plump and pleasant face and pleasant demeanor. They chatted as long married couples chat over their meager meal.

He finished quickly and placed his small bowl on the concrete counter and kissed his wife good-bye.

“Be careful my dear,” she said in French as he climbed on to his L’aviner bicycle.

It wasn’t a long ride to work but it was a steep climb up a very busy and narrow road with many dangers lurking along the way. After all of the climbing there was a steep incline down into the center of town and his office sitting in the shade of large trees.

If it was raining or or he went too fast, disaster could be just around the next corner. He could see the large mountains with tilled fields out in front of him as his journey began. The red land around him was covered in green grass and small trees. Taller tres lined the fields off in the distance. This was the Rwanda that he had grown up in. Now there were many large industrial developments and new buildings springing up along the road.

Piles of trash on the side of the road and wild dogs were just a few of the dangers awaiting him on his way to work. Those and other things around him reminded him that he still lived in a third world nation. Trucks with bad breaks and poorly trained drivers were just a few of the other dangers he faced daily.

As he climbed higher he could look back down from his lofty perch on his bike and see the small, white, cinderblock house below him. he was proud of what he had accomplished in his life so far.

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More to come later tonight.