So I had my first dress made last week. It was quite an experience. I found out that my host mom owns a fabric shop so I felt a little obligated to buy fabric from her shop. She had a small selection compared to some other places but I found some I liked. I had a rough sketch of the dress I wanted made but I am not very good a drawing so I was nervous of how it would be interpreted. My host mom and the umudosi (tailor) do not speak any English whatsoever. Just trying to get the point across that I wanted to buy fabric for a dress was a challenge. Agreeing on a price was also quite funny. I would write down a price then she would write her price. We haggled for a bit Then we came to an agreement before the umudosi arrived. The umudosi was not pleased with the price and refused so I had to pay a little more. It was so confusing but in the end I thought we had it figured out. Then I stood there for a while thinking I needed to be measured but I had no idea how to say that in Kinyarwanda. So I just stood there, my host mom keep trying to talk to me but I can understand her very little. A common problem with learning a language is even if you do know what the words mean; understanding them from a local who speaks fast is hard. Our teachers are really good at enunciating and speaking slowly so we can understand but in the "real world" it’s a whole different story. Eventually my umudosi comes back into the room with a tape measure to do my measurements. I show her the length I want and how thick I want the straps by spacing my fingers out over my shoulders hoping she understands. I also try to show her how I want a band around my waist. Anyway, let’s just say things didn’t seem very clear and I had no idea how to get the point across so I just hoped. I did this all on Wednesday and they told me Friday to pick it up. Well I go to my mom’s shop on Friday and ask for my dress and she tells me in Kinyarwanda something that makes no sense to me. I have no idea where my umudosi is. I give up and try to find one of my friends who had a dress made by the dame person. A few hours later I found someone to show me where to go. It straight down a dirt road, I then had to turn right into a tin door which let me to an open corridor with multiple rooms on every side. I wander into each of them looking for someone familiar and don’t see any umudosi I recognize. I forgot what she looked like; I did not have her name. it was almost hopeless. I leave and head back home when some lady comes chasing after me. Apparently I was in the right place my umudosi was just on break or something. I try on my dress and its perfect. But is didn’t fit right. I had to show her where she needed to take in. Hoping she got it. She took some chalk and made some marks I gave the dress back she made alterations tried it on again, needed a little more she fixed it again and it fit perfectly and was exactly as I drew the dress and pictured it wanting to look. I am extremely happy with it and can’t wait to get a few more tailor made outfits in my time here. The fabric they sell is just beautiful and you’ll never find the same print twice. All in all it was a great experience and everyday the language gets a little bit better. buhro buhro we say. little by little. :)
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