Ukunda kurya ibitoki?

Our Kinyarwanda training book had a scenario about what to say when you need to take a bus somewhere. It taught us what to say while bargaining for a skirt at the market. I learned how to explain who I am, what the Peace Corps is and what I’m doing in Rwanda for the next two years. There was even a scenario about how to get the drunk people to stop throwing rocks at your house in the middle of the night (yes, I wish I was joking). However, unfortunately our lovely book did not tell us what to do in the event that your cat gets fixed and the veterinarian is on her way to your house to check on how she’s recovering, when suddenly two of your Rwandan friends stop by unannounced and ask “ukunda kurya ibitoki?” Well turns out you’ll need to use English, French and Kinyarwanda mixed with a lot of miming and hand gestures, all while persuading your cat that she can in fact walk while her stomach is bandaged up and getting a Rwandan cooking lesson.

So yes, Pilipili got fixed; no baby kittens for her. Watching her attempt to walk after her surgery was equal parts terrifying and hilarious, and she spent most of the day walking around in circles trying to get comfortable and sleeping on my lap. Around 6pm, there was a knock on my front gate, which I assumed to be the vet coming to check on Pili. To my surprise it was my Rwandan friend, Janviere, her friend Claire and Claire’s baby, Andika. I have already learned that in Rwanda, you must be ready for visitors wherever, whenever. So of course, I welcomed them inside, where they first scolded me for allowing weeds to sprout up in my driveway, then peered confusingly at the cat, who still doped up was fumbling around the living room. I used three different languages and various pantomiming techniques to attempt to get across that Pili had had surgery to stop her from having kittens and that she was on a medicine that made her sleepy and disoriented. I failed miserably, they just kept asking if her stomach was sick. Then the veterinarian showed up, and the last thing she was expecting to find was a dazed kitty, it’s overwhelmed adopted owner, and two Rwandan women confused about the entire situation.

In an attempt to stop Pili from licking her incision, the vet put a bandage around Pili’s stomach. Did you know that when you put a bandage on a cat they get confused and think that they’re unable to walk anymore? Well, they do, and now I know. As soon as the bandage was around Pili’s stomach, she lost all ability to use her legs and was soon falling over and lying still like a corpse. As if the Rwandan women were not scared enough, Pili’s behavior sent them over the edge. And I must admit, I was mildly freaking out as well, having never seen a cat react like that before in my life. Eventually Pili realized that her legs did in fact still work and she moved on to her next goal of the night: removing the bandage from her stomach.

After the vet left, Janviere, Claire and I settled into my living room to look at American magazines when suddenly Janviere jumped up exclaiming “Amy! Ukunda kurya ibitoki?” which translates to “Do you like to eat plantains?”. Why yes, Janviere, yes I do. Well within 5 minutes I found myself holding the baby (who simply looked at me wide-eyed as if I were an elephant) while Janviere and Claire were in my backyard attempting to pull down plantains from my plantain tree. After a few minutes of struggling, a huge bunch fell to the ground with a crashing THUD. Janviere quickly went to work peeling plantains and putting them into a pot with water. She asked if I had tomatoes, onions, peppers, carrots and garlic, which luckily I did (and luckily also understood all of those requests in Kinyarwanda!) and soon they were all added to the pot as well. Back to reading the magazines we went, as the food bubbled away on the stove. The reading continued, and continued, and on and on. Janviere glanced at her phone; I knew it was getting late, and the food was nowhere near ready. She looked at me, asking if I could finish the cooking by myself. Of course, I cook Rwandan food all the time..not! And then they were gone as quickly as they had shown up, leaving me with a simmering mix of vegetables, a cat still attempting to walk upright and a headache from being forced to speak only Kinyarwanda for hours.

My first task was to finish cooking, and I figured “experimenting” was the best course of action. I drained some water and then added peanut powder, cumin, cayenne and cinnamon, gave it a big stir and waited. Miraculously the water turned into this delicious, spicy, flavorful sauce and with the vegetables cooked to perfection I spooned out my meal into a bowl, sat back and enjoyed my first self-home-cooked Rwandan dinner. Yep, just another quiet evening in Rwanda.