You Get What You Fish For

 

Darren and I have just come home from the market with all kinds of yummy vegges and we’ve just discovered that our favorite Asian restaurant sells homemade tofu! We decide that we need a few more things before we can cook dinner, so we walk to our local supermarket. As we go through the aisles looking for soy sauce and ginger, we walk past the granola, chocolate, juice boxes, fish food, potato chips….hold up. Rewind. Fish food?!

You must understand, I’ve been wanting a fish for the library for over a year. I tried to bring one back with me but that was a no-go. The conversation went something like this:

Hello, thank you for calling Qatar Airlines, how can I help you?

Hi, yes, I’m flying to Rwanda and I’m wondering if it’s possible to bring a fish in my carryon.

I’m sorry, a what?

A fish! I want to bring a goldfish with me. Is that allowed?

Ma’am no one has ever asked me that before. I’m going to have to check with my supervisor…….No ma’am I’m sorry, fish are strictly banned from carry-on luggage.

Womp. I’ve searched high and low all over Kigali, but pet stores aren’t really a thing here and it’s really hard to try to explain to people that you want to buy a fish that is still alive. I’ve checked all the expat blogs and asked all the kiddos, but no one seemed to know anywhere this librarian might be able to buy a small colorful aquatic creature. One might say I’d given up.

Then I spotted the fish food. If there is fish food for sale, that must mean someone is buying it to feed a fish! Who are these people? Where do their fish come from? And what would I have to do to find one of these people and convince them to give me one of their fish?!

I grab the container and walk up to the cashier. “HI. Where is the animal that goes with this?”

She gave me one of the most confused looks I’ve gotten in a long while, and I teach English as a second language, so that’s really saying something. The cashier has no idea, but luckily another customer does. He starts trying to explain to me where to go until we decide that the directions are way too complicated for me to remember. I ask him to write down how to get to the place so that I can show the directions to a moto driver. He agrees, writes a few sentences in Kinyarwanda, and tells us we should probably go another day, because it’s getting dark and they’re probably closed now. A few eyelash flutters from me and one truly spectacular eye-roll from Darren and it’s decided: we will search for my fish tomorrow morning.

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Please, kind moto, take us there!

 

The next morning, armed with my little note, we hail motos and begin our fish-venture. We drive through a part of town that I don’t usually spend time in and after a few turns and dirt roads, I begin to wonder if maybe kind stranger has arranged for us to be dropped off at some kind of kidnapping hotspot. Finally, we see a sign next to a seemingly abandoned lot that says “ALPHA CHOICE, frozen fish, frozen chicken”.

Uh oh. I do not want a frozen fish. The moto driver gives me a look and says, “I think they’re out of business,” but Darren and I decided to walk around anyway. We discover the storefront (not closed – thank goodness) and apprehensively approach the men unloading boxes of frozen fish.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small tank inside. YES! The nice man behind the counter does in fact have several goldfish that he’s willing to sell me. 5000 francs later, and I’m holding my new little friend.

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GOTCHA!

Fast forward thirty minutes, and I have a nice little jar that will serve as a tank and of course I’ve gone back for the container of fish food that started it all. Along the way, I discover that if you want people to look at you like you’ve lost your mind, simply walk through Kigali holding a goldfish in a plastic bag. That should do the trick.

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The happiest librarian there ever was!

After two pretty treacherous moto rides and an hour on the bus, Cousin the Fish arrived safely to the Library. His little tank is all set up, and now the only thing left to do is watch at the kiddos come in to visit!

 

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It’s ok, Cousin. I don’t like bus rides either.
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Welcome home Cousin!
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4 thoughts on “You Get What You Fish For”

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