My Umuzamu

When I first was given an umuzamu, I felt uncomfortable.  It seemed strange to have a man hanging around my house all night.  After a few weeks, however, I found that having an umuzamu was comforting.  And, now, I don’t know what I’d do without my umuzamu.  

It all started a few weeks after I moved into my two-bedroom house. That Sunday morning, I walked into the extra bedroom and saw that the bed, which had been perfectly made the last time I’d entered the room, was bare with only the naked mattress.  I instinctively looked at the window and saw broken glass on the floor.  But, the window had bars, so how had someone stolen the sheets and comforter on the bed?  I phoned the director of facilities at my school. He immediately sent someone to my house, who explained that, after breaking the glass, the thief had opened the window and then reached in with a pole with a hook and pulled the sheets and comforter through the bars of the window. A not uncommon type of theft here I was told, but still unsettling.  Nothing besides the bedding was missing, so I felt lucky.  

I happened to have saved a piece of cardboard, which I taped to the window to keep out mosquitoes.  However, by late afternoon, the school had replaced the window for me and helped me clean up the glass.  To avoid future smash and grabs, I moved the bed as far from the window as possible. A few weeks later, I replaced the stolen items with colorful sheets and a comforter than I bought in the market.  

Although my house is next to the school, it is not private.  Anyone, and everyone, can walk up to, and around, my house at any time of the day or night. Yet, I never felt unsafe because of the bars on the windows. Still, as a result of the incident, the school assigned an umuzamu to guard my house at night.

My umuzamu, Jared (no, not Kushner), looks to be in his mid-twenties. He works for Top-Sec, the same security firm that provides the school with guards during the day and night for the four-story office building where I usually work and the school’s compound that houses the main classroom, the library, additional offices and some dormitories. The Top-Sec guards wear smart-looking forest green Top Sec uniforms with a red stripe on the side of the pants, with a cute Top-Sec baseball style cap and even Top-Sec sweaters for cold nights.  They carry a black stick that resembles a billy club, but my umuzamu, fortunately, has never used it to my knowledge.  

After I got over my initial reluctance at having a handsome young man hang around the outside of my house all night, I embraced the idea.  What if I had a cockroach or a mouse, or worse, a rat (like several of my fellow volunteers in other towns have had to contend with)?  If I encountered such a trespasser, I could simply call my umuzamu for help. Now, that was a comforting thought! Fortunately, I’ve had none of those interlopers. However, one dark night, I surprised what I thought was a mouse in my bathroom, but happily it turned out to be a short, fat, fast-moving lizard that sporadically appeared over the next two weeks and then was never seen again.  (I don’t mind sharing space with lizards because they eat mosquitoes and other insects).

I usually do not get home after work until about 8:00 p.m., by which time it is quite dark.  Before having my umuzamu, I was always a bit nervous arriving home in the dark and unlocking my backdoor (my front door is taped shut to keep out mosquitoes).  But now, my umuzamu is always there to greet me with a smile and ensure that no harm comes to me.  

Each night, after work, I go for a bite to eat in the same tiny shop across the street from my school.  I make sure to buy something for my next day’s breakfast, as well as a snack for my umuzamu. Sometimes, I buy samosas (little packets of fried dough with spicy meat inside). Other times, I buy chapatis or the popular little heart-shaped cakes (called keke, which is pronounced kay-kay). But, most often, I buy amandazi, the Rwandan equivalent of donuts, but without the hole. When I arrive home each night, I hand my umuzamu his nightly snack, which of course makes him always eager to see me.  And, we chat. I practice my limited Kinyarwanda with him, and he practices his limited English with me.

On clear nights, I greet him by saying, “Hari inyenyeri mu ikerere.” (There are stars in the sky.)  Then, we gaze at the stars together. Sometimes, we talk about the ukwezi (moon).  On the night of the total lunar eclipse in July, we gazed at the sky together on and off for hours, and I tried to explain what the lunar eclipse was, even though I didn’t clearly understand it myself.  Often, I open my iPad with my star guide so that we can try to identify stars and planets together.  We often see the Southern Cross, and Mars is easy to spot because of its red glow.  And, when it’s cloudy, we shake our heads and say, “Hari ibicu byinshi” (There are too many clouds).  

My umuzamu uses an extra room attached to my house (conveniently to the left of my back door), where he has stored some old chairs and keeps some warm clothes for cold nights.  After someone stole his extra sweater from that room during the day, I had a key made for him.  

I don’t see my umuzamu in the morning because he leaves at 6:00 a.m.  But, when I wake up at 5:30 a.m., I hear him moving about, locking up his room and getting ready to leave.  It’s reassuring to know that he was there all night and to know that, when I arrive home in the dark that evening, he will again be there to greet me and gaze at the stars, the moon or the cloudy sky for a few minutes with me.  I don’t know how I ever lived without an umuzamu.