|Ravi: Post-Africa Flight Smile|
“We have a midwifery course that we need an instructor for,” she said without looking at me as she scribbled my name furiously into her notebook. I blanched, and swallowed the sticky-fear that was gaining momentum in my throat.
Yeah, I thought... I birthed three babies... in second year... well not really birthed... I watched... well, I sat down for one... almost fainted. I could teach it... Oh no, I don't have a midwivery textbook... Wait a minute, I can't even be a wife, how do I teach being a mid-one?
Fate must have decided that that was enough humor for one day, because our host arrived and hastily ushered us out to meet some other higher-ups of the organization before I could speak another word. Eventually, we were shown our new home, with three bedrooms (for two of us!), a fully functioning kitchen (a fridge, microwave and toaster!) and, most importantly, an epic balcony, which most of our time at home would be spent, lounging over books, movies and music overlooking Mount Kigali.
That first night, we slept 16 hours, and groggily willed our bodies to function at 7am. Work started at 8am.