Naked Night Guard

I have to be honest and tell all those who read this Blog that I am truly pampered in Rwanda. People have told me that America is a service oriented economy; those people have not been to Rwanda. If I order a drink at a restaurant like a Fanta or Coca Cola, they bring it in a bottle, open the bottle, and poor the drink into the glass. I am not allowed to poor my own drink because the waiters are expected to do it.

All my food is prepared by a cook who comes to our house at 6am and leaves at 6pm. She cooks, washes our clothes, cleans our house, and buys the needed food and supplies. I feel like a three year old child with a nanny...and I love it.

One of the most interesting services provided here in Rwanda is a night watchman. There is a young man named Mark who stays in this little brick building next to a gate that leads to our house. His job is to guard the house against any unwanted guests. Mark opens the door for me, closes the door for me, and makes sure that nobody comes into the house during the night. He doesn’t have a badge, gun, or even a nightstick. He reminds me of hotel security. Hotel watchmen guard the door, but if anything happens, they are helpless. Mark couldn’t defend us if his life depended upon it, but he brings comfort to us in knowing that he will be the first to be injured if something goes wrong. I live in the Motel de Blaze and he is my guard. If someone breaks in, Mark will....he will.....well, probably just get in their way for a few moments.

The funny thing about Mark is that twice I have got him with his pants down...in the most literal sense. Once, Bart and I were going to meet up with some new friends for an evening out on the town. They were to pick us up at 9pm outside of our gate, and they arrived just on time.
When they honked the horn of their car, Bart and I walked outside to our gate. Mark was standing there attentively waiting for us, and then he opened the gate to let us out. We jump into out friend’s car and headed out into the night.

I leaned over and asked Bart as we were leaving, “Did you notice something odd about Mark the guard? ...I don’t think that he is wearing any pants!”

Bart stated, “No way, you have got to be kidding!” Bart then looked out the window of our car.

In the distance our night guard was standing just outside the gate waving good bye to us. He was smiling and wearing a nice button up shirt. Below the shirt there were no pants. The important parts were covered, but his legs were not.

Last night we decided to go to the store for some cookies. Cookies are quite the luxury here, so we were excited to go and pick them up. After buying the cookies we headed back to our house. When we arrived at the gate, we knocked on the door. Sure enough, Mark unlocked and opened the door so that we could enter.

Katherine was practicing her French and asked Mark if he would like a cookie using her best French. Mark answered in French and seemed to really enjoy the cookie. While I was walking to the front door of the house, I noticed that Katherine was standing next to a night guard with no pants. She didn’t notice until it was too late, and she was but a few feet from his side. He didn’t seem embarrassed, but Katherine was. My worry is that he will now become pants less often for a cookie as that appeared to be his repayment from Katherine.

I hope that nobody ever tries to break into our house, and I doubt anyone ever will. This place is too safe for the need of a night guard, but we try to employ as many Rwandans as possible.
If a person ever does try to break in, I am sure that the first thing that the intruder will hear being screamed is:
“Mark, put your pants on! I think I hear someone is outside!”