Boat Shipment No. 1

After four long months at sea, our first shipping container from Japan finally rolled up to our gate this morning. The moment the doors swung open, it felt as if a doorway to our Okinawa life had been propped wide, a faint whiff of tatami, the familiar clink of our kitchenware, and even the stuff I’d forgotten I packed all greeted us at once.

The second shipment, the one I loaded a couple of weeks after my wife’s, should arrive within the next week or two if the logistics gods stay kind.

For now, every room looks as if Christmas morning detonated inside it. My wife tore through the packing tape with giddy efficiency, announcing each rediscovered treasure, “I didn’t even remember we owned this!”, while I stacked bubble-wrapped memories into wobbly towers. With every unboxed plate, cushion, or photo frame, Rwanda feels a little more like home.

Of course, the flip side is the chaos: mountains of belongings crowding every free corner. Our weekend plans are practically written for us: cleaning, sorting, and figuring out where each piece fits in this new chapter. It’s a happy kind of mess, though, the sort that says life is unfolding exactly as it should.

Fumigation Fiasco

Our community recently scheduled a fumigation to help prevent malaria, originally set for Friday through Saturday, July 18th to 20th. Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan.

The contractor hired by our Homeowners Association (HoA) apparently underestimated the scope of the job. They didn’t bring enough staff to carry out the fumigation within the scheduled timeframe, so the process was abruptly canceled.

My wife and I had already made arrangements to be away from the house during those three days. We booked and paid for a local Airbnb for the weekend and also hired a cleaner to handle the post-fumigation cleanup. Since my wife is swamped with work, we wanted to avoid the hassle of dealing with it ourselves.

After we checked into the Airbnb and confirmed everything with our cleaner, we received a message from the HoA announcing that the entire fumigation process had been canceled. Naturally, my wife was furious—and rightly so. We had spent a significant amount of money to plan around the original schedule, all of which now felt completely wasted.

The HoA mentioned they hoped to resolve the situation and reschedule the fumigation for around Tuesday. Then, very late Tuesday night, we got another message: fumigation would resume Wednesday, and they asked residents to confirm updated availability. With such short notice, we couldn’t respond right away. We had to coordinate again with our cleaner and decided to request Thursday so we could take Wednesday to prepare the house.

On Wednesday, we were told that exterior fumigation would happen that night. However, by Thursday morning, we learned that not all homes had been treated. Apparently, they would continue spraying exteriors Thursday night. Based on the messages we received, it seems likely our home was one of those missed.

Despite the confusion, we managed to reschedule for Thursday. As I write this, I’m sitting at Baso Pâtissier, waiting for the indoor fumigation to be completed at our house. Later this afternoon, I’ll return to help our cleaner wipe down and sanitize everything touched by the chemicals.

Hopefully, today will mark the end of this long, frustrating process—at least until the next round of fumigation rolls around next year. Living in Rwanda continues to teach my wife and me valuable lessons in patience, flexibility, and adjusting expectations when things don’t unfold as planned. Delays and miscommunications seem more common here than what we’re used to, but we’re learning to navigate it with grace.

Update:

I got home around 3 PM only to discover that the fumigation team had just finished as I was pulling in. Which meant the three-hour waiting period before reentering wasn’t already done—it was only just beginning.

I left the house at 9 AM thinking the process would be well underway or even finished by the time I got back. Instead, we won’t even be able to start cleaning up until around 5 or 6 PM.

So, change of plans. My wife and I are going to grab dinner out tonight and come back later—hopefully to a mostly aired-out house—once our cleaner has tackled the bulk of the mess.

Brunch with a view

This morning, my wife and I had a lovely brunch at Baso Pâtissier here in Kigali. We grabbed a couple of lattes, sat outside, and enjoyed the panoramic view of the city—absolutely peaceful and refreshing.

I had their savory ham quiche (still thinking about it), and she went for a fresh, hearty omelette. Everything was flavorful and perfectly done. The setting, the food, and the quiet morning light made it one of those simple moments that just feels good.

 

If you’re looking for a cozy spot with great coffee and a view that stretches across Kigali, Baso is worth the visit.

Power Outage

Just before noon today, the power suddenly went out. At first, it seemed like one of those brief interruptions I’ve gotten used to—off for a minute or two, then back on like nothing happened. But around noon, it went out again and stayed off until nearly 2:00 PM. That two-hour stretch was the longest outage I’ve experienced since arriving here.

With no electricity, I couldn’t use any of the kitchen appliances to make lunch. So I headed over to the Simba Center, where I grabbed a chicken pot pie and picked up a few groceries from our running list. Not ideal, but at least it gave me a reason to get out for a bit.

Later in the evening, after dinner, my wife and I were looking forward to winding down with a cup of African tea. I had just started washing the dishes when—once again—the power cut out. The water was still running, but I couldn’t even see the faucet to turn it off. My wife helped by turning on the flashlight on my phone so I could finish cleaning up in the dark. About 10 or 15 minutes later, the lights flickered back on.

When the power goes out, the internet goes with it, which can be frustrating. It’s manageable during the day thanks to the natural light, but once the sun sets, the house turns pitch black. No light, no connection, just silence and shadows.

Hopefully tomorrow brings fewer interruptions. Power is something you don’t think about—until you suddenly don’t have it.

Sunday

This afternoon, I felt completely drained—mentally and emotionally. The day started off okay, but it took a lot out of me.

I got a haircut this morning—my first one since arriving here. The last time I had it cut was back in April in Japan, just before I left. It felt good to finally clean up a bit.

After that, we stopped by a nearby café called Kantina’s Kafe, a place my wife had been wanting to try. It turned out to be something really special. The café employs deaf staff, providing meaningful job opportunities and creating a warm, inclusive atmosphere. My wife has been learning sign language to better communicate with one of her employees who is deaf, so it felt especially meaningful to be there together.

Later, she wanted to explore the famous Kimironko Market to get a feel for it. I wasn’t quite ready for what we walked into. Just trying to park the car was overwhelming—we were immediately surrounded by several people trying to direct us and pressure us into paying them. Once inside, the market felt dark, crowded, and chaotic. People were calling out, trying to sell us things, likely quoting us higher “foreigner” prices. Some offered unsolicited help, clearly hoping for tips.

That kind of environment is really tough for me. I felt completely out of my element—stressed, uncomfortable, and anxious. My wife is much stronger in these situations and handles them better than I do, but even she didn’t feel safe going alone.

I realize now that I need to ease into experiences like this. Either I need more time to mentally prepare, or I need to go with a local friend who can help guide me through it.

For now, I just need a nap—to recharge and reset.

But I’m also learning that part of adapting to life in a new place means honoring my own limits while staying open to growth. Even the hard days are part of the journey.

First Taste of African Cuisine

Today for lunch, my wife and I decided to try something different—we went to Sundowner, a local African restaurant known for its mouthwatering BBQ. Despite having been here for a while, this was actually my first real experience eating traditional African food. Most of the time, we end up going out for Chinese or Korean meals with our Asian friends who live here, so it felt refreshing to explore something more local.

We ordered a classic spread: Nyama Choma ribs, served with Ugali, Kachumbari, Sukuma Wiki, and fried plantains. As well as avocado salad. Everything was packed with flavor and deeply satisfying.

Nyama Choma, which means “grilled meat” in Swahili, is a beloved East African BBQ dish, often made with beef, goat, or ribs. The meat is slow-roasted over open flames and served simply, allowing the smoky flavor to shine through.

Ugali is a staple in many African countries—it’s a stiff porridge made from maize flour and water, typically used to scoop up vegetables and meat by hand.

Kachumbari is a fresh tomato and onion salad, a perfect, zesty contrast to the richness of the grilled meat.

Sukuma Wiki, literally “push the week” in Swahili, is sautéed collard greens often cooked with onions and a bit of oil, used as an affordable and nutritious everyday side.

And the fried bananas added a touch of sweetness and comfort to round out the meal.

It was a delicious and eye-opening introduction to the local cuisine, and I’m glad we finally made the time to experience it.

After our meal, we wandered through some nearby artisan shops to explore the local crafts. I picked up a shirt I really liked, and we also bought some beautifully handwoven baskets and matching coasters—all made in the distinctive traditional basketry style found across the region.

It was a good day—great food, a taste of local culture, and meaningful moments shared with my wife.

Tanabata 七夕🎋

 July 7 – Tanabata: Wishing on the Stars

Tonight, I’m pausing to take in the beauty of Tanabata, the Japanese Star Festival, a celebration that feels like a gentle reminder of hope, distance, and reunion.

Tanabata traces its roots to a legend about two celestial lovers—Orihime, the weaving princess (represented by the star Vega), and Hikoboshi, the cowherd (Altair). According to the story, they were separated by the Milky Way and allowed to meet just once a year—on the 7th day of the 7th month—as long as the skies are clear. If it rains, they must wait another year.

All across Japan, people celebrate by writing their wishes, hopes, and dreams on colorful strips of paper called tanzaku, then hanging them on bamboo branches. The sight of the swaying wishes under the stars is magical—both tender and inspiring.

There’s something universal in this tradition: the longing for connection, the faith in the unseen, and the quiet power of making a wish.

So tonight, I took a moment to write down a wish of my own.

I don’t know if the stars are listening. But sometimes, just writing it down is enough.

🎋🌠✨

Rwanda Liberation Day - Kwibohora

 Journal Entry – July 4, 2025

Liberation Day – Kwibohora 31

Today marks 31 years since the liberation of Rwanda—a day that forever changed the course of this nation. On July 4, 1994, the Rwandan Patriotic Army brought the genocide against the Tutsi to an end by capturing Kigali and halting the 100 days of horror that claimed over 800,000 lives.

It’s hard to put into words the weight of this day. Liberation Day—or Kwibohora, as it is known in Kinyarwanda—represents more than the end of violence. It is a reminder of the resilience of a people who refused to let hatred define their future. It stands for rebuilding from ashes, for choosing unity over division, and for daring to imagine a new Rwanda rooted in dignity, inclusion, and peace.

Across the country today, the Rwandan flag flies high. Ceremonies, speeches, and cultural events honor those who lost their lives, those who fought for liberation, and those who continue to build a brighter Rwanda. For many, it’s a solemn day of remembrance. For others, it’s a celebration of progress—the schools built, roads paved, lives restored.

As someone living here, I find myself both humbled and inspired. Rwanda’s journey is a powerful testament to what is possible when a nation confronts its past with honesty and walks into the future with purpose.

Liberation is not a moment—it is a process. And each year on July 4, the people of Rwanda renew their commitment to justice, to reconciliation, and to a shared national identity that refuses to be broken.

Kwibohora n’uguhitamo icyiza – Liberation is choosing what is good.

https://youtu.be/sscT_LVcocY?si=-3ay8TXxu732STOn 

Reflecting on My First Month in Rwanda 🇷🇼

Reflecting on My First Month in Rwanda 🇷🇼
Journal Entry – July 2, 2025

It’s hard to believe it’s already been over a month since I arrived in Rwanda. The journey began on May 27th with a long series of flights from Tokyo to Doha and finally to Kigali—my first visit to the Middle East en route. The moment I reunited with my wife at the airport was joyful and emotional after months apart.

Since then, life here has been full of adjustments, small victories, and plenty of memorable moments.

Our first big transition was moving into a new house in a gated community—a beautiful, spacious place with plenty of quirks. From broken fixtures and leaky tanks to delayed repairs and inconsistent hot water, we’ve had our fair share of maintenance adventures. Still, every fixed faucet and functioning appliance has felt like a win.

There have been unexpected challenges, too, like getting scammed via a mobile money call, which was a painful but valuable lesson in navigating a new country. I’ve also had to confront the chaos of driving in Kigali—a daily mental workout with unpredictable traffic patterns—but I’m gaining confidence on the roads.

Amid the hurdles, we’ve carved out time for fun and discovery. A safari trip to Akagera National Park was a breathtaking highlight, offering up-close views of giraffes, zebras, hippos, rhinos, and so much more. We’ve explored Kigali’s food scene—from German sausages to shakshouka at Fika Café—and enjoyed lazy afternoons sipping coffee, soaking in the slow rhythm of local life.

We’ve also immersed ourselves in Kigali’s creative heart, visiting places like the Niyo Arts Center, where vibrant paintings and community empowerment come together beautifully. Even a mundane day—like grocery shopping at Simba Center or picking up a package at the airport (an eight-hour saga)—has added color and texture to this chapter of our lives.

Most recently, I’ve been reflecting on Rwanda’s history through national holidays. Rwanda’s Independence Day on July 1st offered an opportunity to think deeply about the country’s colonial past, hard-won sovereignty, and ongoing path toward unity.

This first month in Rwanda has been both grounding and transformative. It’s reminded me that the beauty of a new place often comes not just from what we see, but from what we learn, overcome, and grow through along the way. I’m excited to see what the coming months bring.