Rwandan time

We had a running joke as trainees that everything we did was operated on either one of two schedules. When we were to take trips or go anywhere and were told a time to meet, we always asked, "Rwandan time or American time?" This question, here, is critical because it is not a difference of 2 minutes, but often, 2 hours.
I've known that Americans are absurdly prompt. As an impatient person, I love it. However, living in Brazil, France and Ireland, I learned to relax and enjoy waiting. If I was early, or they were late, it was an opportunity to explore, grab a coffee or read.
Here, it's on a whole nother scale. Some examples:
-I went to catch a bus in Kigali to get down to Butare to visit a close fellow PCV. I had grabbed a bite and then took my time getting over to the bus 'station' (I use this term loosely, as it really refers to a particular alley that is known to be where Volcano buses stop and where you can buy a ticket). I arrived around 11:10, so I asked for a ticket for the next bus at 11:30. A bus arrived around 11:20, so I hopped on it as usually these buses run only around 15 minutes late. Once I gave the driver my ticket he started laughing and then said I had the wrong time. I was apparently on the 11:00 bus...that left around 11:35. They changed the ticket for me luckily, since I'm white and they thought I was confused. I was, but not about the time.
-This weekend I went to visit my new friend family. I met them on my site visit when I told Father I needed to 'meet a family.' This was among the things asked of us in our Site Visit forms, but I'm glad it is, because my family happens to be very nice and a very useful connection as the father is the director of the local primary school and the mother is a Community Health Worker...bonus! I was supposed to be at their house at 5 on Sunday. I resisted the urge to leave 15 minutes early and arrived at 5:10...of course, neither of them were home so I chatted a bit with the students that live in their compound, then left at around 5:25 cause I was told they were both working. I figured no big deal, they make and break this kind of commitment all the time, and as a CHW, she can get called into the Health Center at any time. So, I began my walk home to make it back before dark. On my way, I ran into Papa T, who was very apologetic that he hadn't been home and was headed there right now, so I could come back with him for the visit. I told him I must be getting home because it would get dark and I really didn't wanna have another run-in with the crazy drunk ladies that had gotten me on my way to the house. Once I got home, Mama T, came knocking on my door. She had been over at the health center and been called by Papa once he saw me on the road. After her repeated apologies and my insistence that it really wasn't a big deal, I figured that it was more important for her if I went and she said they had a moto to bring me home. It turned out to be a lovely visit, especially because their son (who I teach at the pre-school) stopped himself mid-sentence to call me "racheri" instead of muzungu...I smell progress!