This is the story of how I almost died 8 times

So the legend goes that there was a girl from the midwest that is used to crossing the streets in a large city. She always looks both ways, then does the double look in the first direction she looked just to be sure a car didn't sneak up on her while she was looking in the opposite direction. She's never even been close to being hit by a car, motorcycle, or various mode of transportation...until now...::Flash to the present:: Kigali, the capital city of Rwanda. While traffic drives on the right side of the road, not like the crazies in the rest of the world...::shameless fun poking, don't be alarmed::...anyway, I digress. So the cars and stupid moto's (motor bikes) are zooming everywhere and decide when there are traffic signs, they exist solely as pretty wilderness decorations, nothing to be followed as rules or anything. Most of the streets en route to the clinic don't have lines, so as you can imagine it's a free-for-all. Anyway, I was peacefully walking along today, and yesterday, minding my own business, looking at the million new things there are for me to see, and a bunch of cars almost hit me. Like 8 times. They were going really fast. I actually, honest--this is not a joke or a made up story to make me look good, but I actually pulled a little boy out of the way of a psychotic minibus that would have hit him and me if we didn't move. Surprise, Surprise, motor vehicles hitting pedestrians is a huge problem in Rwanda leading to fatalities, so much so that the government was inspired to put in raised sidewalks. Good idea. Except they're not in by the clinic so it was no help to me as I wandered dangerously close to cars flying around everywhere.
I know what you're thinking, "Melanie, you're supposed to walk opposite the direction of traffic". Thanks. That would be great advice to follow if traffic went in two different directions and stayed in their respective lanes. Something to get used to.
Today I stood on the clinic's balcony and watched. I...watched...everything. The mechanic taking the hub caps off old tires, the woman selling phone cards waived to me, the young man selling women's shoes on the street (none of them matching), and the women carrying babies in a sack on their back. I really think this is the way to go. Never have I seen happier children. The people here are so friendly, but they are a very stoic people. It is said that it is impossible to tell what a Rwandan is thinking. Generally, I've found people to open up to me with just a smile. For me, not being able to speak the language, body language and non-verbal communication have become crucial in bonding with the Rwandan people I meet. Today at the clinic I used the bathroom and started to walk back upstairs when a woman in a bright blue apron stopped me and started speaking French to me. I quickly told her I didn't understand, with the confused look on my face at which point she took me by the hand, guided me back to the areas with the washroom and started to pat her chest. She held up a key for the men's bathroom and made a motion of putting the key in the lock and turning it. Now I know, without one word, that there is in fact a staff bathroom, and that this woman has the key. Amazing. Today was kind of a simple day because my partner didn't arrive until after clinic time and then we hashed out the details of the projects we'll be doing. I will be going back tomorrow and going fabric shopping to have some clothes made for me. I'm also still working on the pictures.