Over and Out

And so ended my two years in Rwanda.

It's strange to think that an entire two years can be squished into 453 posts, but there you have it.

As I was going through and editing the posts, it struck me just how many good nights out we had, how strong our friendships were, and also that I sounded more rankled about things than I actually remember feeling at the time. I think that's because blogging is such a therapeutic pastime, and you tend to let it all out as your main means of communication with friends and family back home.

My time with VSO provided some of the most extreme highs and lows of my life, and essentially we managed to pull off the first Dictionary of Rwandan Sign Language, which is just about to go into its second edition. That's quite an achievement, and now means that Deaf people in Rwanda have access to signing with their television news.

The friends I made in Rwanda remain some of the closest I've ever had. Cathryn lives in London, and we make an annual trip to Belgium to see Lies & Kassim, who now have twins and a three-year-old. We cut off Lies' dreadlocks in 2012 for the Kinamba Project.

Martine & Ruaíri got married in April 2013 and have since moved to Laos. I'm off to visit them next month. If you'd like to keep up to date with my adventures, you can follow my other blog: Nataraja's Foot. [Also, my first month back in the UK.]

RV Weekend

Well hullooo readers!

Been a while. Just returned from a Returned Volunteers (RV) weekend at Harborne Hall in Birmingham, where you may remember I did my pre-departure training just over two years ago. Before leaving Rwanda I didn't really think I'd want to go to an RV weekend, but since being back I realised it would be nice to have a weekend away and re-visit the ol' place.

It was extremely strange walking back through the door. Smelled just the same, looked the same. A fond familiarity. There were 50 or more RVs from all over the world: Ethiopia, Malawi, Tanzania, Ghana, The Gambia, China, Mongolia, Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Sri Lanka, Mozambique, Cambodia, Guyana, Indonesia and even Pakistan (whose programme office shut recently due to the escalating political problems).

We kicked off at 6pm with an excellent exercise called Just One Thing where we each brought one thing that was special from our time in placement. Many of us also wore national dress - so I got to air the mushanana that Jasmine made me one last time.

Talking of that mushanana, it was made for my colleague Léon's wedding and I found a couple of clips the other day. They're poor quality but I could never upload them before because of the internet speed:

Léon & Janine getting married.


At the reception the wedding party sing a traditional wedding song to the guests.



A quick snippet of the speech I gave - not knowing I was going to be asked to make one!

So, it was really nice to get to wear it again and to see everybody else's dress - the clothes from Ethiopia and Pakistan were extremely beautiful.

People brought a whole range of different items with them. Some that stand out were the scarf that one lady had to wear to cover her head and shoulders, and how it made her think about how lucky her and her daughter (and women in general) are in Britain, and the amount of freedom we have. Someone else brought a toy truck made out of old tins, which the kids of five and six made in her village. How many other kids that age do you know who could make such an intricate item with flip-flop wheels and a movable steering wheel? I took my two Rwandan masks. Most masks were Congolese, so it was hard to find something that was actually Rwandan. These you buy traditionally in pairs: a man and a woman, which I like to think represent Nyabinghi and Ryangombe, the spirit cults from the North and South, respectively.

Rabia was also there, we met last Christmas in Sierra Leone, where she was on placement. So we shared a bottle of wine and a catch-up. Vicki, one of the facilitators, had also done a two-year placement in Rwanda, then six months in Mongolia. I met her when she went back on holiday to Rwanda and we had a pancake fest. So, again, it was great to catch-up as we know lots of the same people.

Saturday was a string of workshops looking at re-settlement issues, careers advice, job issues, what support VSO offer etc. It was useful but long, and sometimes a bit repetitive. I'm not sure why, but it did feel a bit flat. I remember pre-departure training having a lot more energy - mostly nervous excitement - which of course RVs don't have. But at the same time the trainers seemed a bit more sedentary, and there wasn't any silliness. No WAAAA! games. I'm not sure that just because we're returnees, that we've completely lost our sense of fun. A few silly games would have helped to lift the mood a bit. After all, most of us really miss our placement countries (you could tell from the Just One Thing exercise) so we're perhaps even more in need of cheering up than outbound volunteers.

Thankfully, we completely made up for this in the bar. The red wine did flow. Rabia and I befriended Elizabeth & Oli, Anna, Dan and Alex and between us we formed a pub quiz team. We did extremely badly, but were too distracted by salt 'n' vinegar crisps to care! :) 

That part of the weekend was great: letting off steam and returning to a social scene of vols where we all had so much in common, as we'd all been in Africa. It's great to have some new friends, and Anna lives near Gloucester so I'll go visit her next time I'm there.

Finished today around 11am after a talk about getting involved in VSO and fundraising. Was interesting. Still thinking that if I can't get a job in the New Year I'll just re-apply for a short-term placement and keep building up my CV until I get an offer.

Had a bit of a green twinge at the end, though. They handed out postcards that we write to ourselves with our aspirations on, then they post them to us in six months. That's a lot of postcards to hand out each year, and it didn't mention 'recycled paper' anywhere. Then they asked us to fill out expense forms if we were donating our transport money, but they'd already asked us if we wanted to do that by e-mail before the course - so, again, not very eco-friendly.

Drove home and feeling a bit anti-social again. I was slipping back into UK living pretty well, but that's thrown it all in the air again. Now I just miss the people I met and wish we were heading to the bar tonight. That's a bit pants, but I do feel better in other ways. It's good others are as directionless as me right now, although many are returning to old jobs or to study. But it's good to feel normal again in terms of where I'm at and what I'm doing.

There was one lady there who is outgoing, on her way to Rwanda. It's very unusual to have an outgoing vol at an RV weekend, but she was between courses. As she was staying at Harborne anyway, she wanted to come. I wondered if it would be a bit negative for her - 'warts and all' - but she seemed fine, and still enthusiastic to go even after having that very realistic insight. I was the only Rwandan volunteer at the weekend, so it was nice to chat to her and look at the map of where she'll be working.

It's been a bit of an African day, actually. The shower ran out of water this morning - luckily just as I was finishing. That hasn't happened since Gikondo. Then I got back to Mum's to find the power was out on the lights upstairs, so I'm sitting here writing this by candlelight. Oddly, it's quite comforting - if you sort of ignore the carpet, radiator, cold weather and Queen-sized bed.

Anyway, will update more soon. For now, that's about my limit.

Murabeho Kigali

Spent my last night down Stella with Cathryn. My last morning in bed with D, recovering from a hangover. My last couple of hours at the airport with some of the best people in the world.

Cue excessive number of photographs:

Me & D with Catheryn's leaving card.

Cathryn & D with iced frappachino.

Insanely happy Ruairí & Martine.

Insanely sad-to-be-parted Marion & D.

Cheeky twins, partners in fun: Me & Cathryn.

I SO want that hat!

Rose :)

L-R: Rose, Ruairí, Cathryn, me, D, Martine.

Oh ho ho ho ho ho.

L-R: Cathryn, Ruairi, me, D, Rose.

L-R: Martine, me, Ruairí.

L-R: D, me, Rose.

L-R: Martine, me, Cathryn.

L-R: Martine, me, Cathryn (one of my fav. pics)

Ermn...Cathryn trying to grab my leg to stop me from
leaving, but kinda looks more like she's trying to
bite my arse - like the monkey wasn't enough! ;)

Needless to say I miss them very much :(

The flight left at 7:45pm and I had to check in at 5:30, so made them promise to go to Stella and drink themselves silly (well, sillier than usual), which they did, and thankfully provided many amusing texts whilst I was sitting in departure trying to use up the last of my credit. The conversation went something along the lines of:

Martine: Hi! Guess what? We are all at Stella!

Marion: How come you are sober enough to text? Less texting, more drinking.

Martine: We ar Peerfekly abll to textt properli and drrrink at the sane time xx

Cathryn: Hang on in there girlie, u can drink yourself silly on the plane.

Marion (to Martine): ;)

Martine: ;;;;;))))) from the 5 of us.

So, you can see the last hour of my time in Rwanda was engaged in highly intellectual contemplation ;)

Cathryn wrote me a beautiful card, and Martine wrote me one in Braille, which I have to decipher. D also wrote me the sweetest letter, which caused me to burst into tears in departure.

The night before, at Stella, Gerard, the best waiter in the world, brought Cathryn and I free food and the most amazing gifts: I got a yellow shawl and matching bag with zebra and giraffe prints, a necklace, pen, and a banana leaf picture with a message written on the back that also almost had me in tears. I've had so many kind words and gifts. Even my neighbour came over with jewellery for myself and my mother. I don't actually have pierced ears, but I'm going to get them done so that I can wear the earrings. Even my boss apparently started referring to me as their 'beloved' Marion. The words of kindness and love have been overwhelming. Truly, you don't realise the ways in which you touch other people's lives and the ways in which they touch yours. I can't begin to describe the depth of friendship I have found in Rwanda.

I slept most of the trip to Brussels, but cried the entire flight across the channel. I find it very hard when people say 'welcome home!', or 'I bet it's good to be back?' It sounds like Rwanda is somewhere I survived for two years, rather than somewhere I lived. If you measure 'home' as he place where your house, job, friends, boyfriend, hobbies lie, then Rwanda is my home still. It will take time to feel at home here. I have no job, no house of my own, my friends exist but live many miles away. This is really hard. I miss D. I phoned him, he's okay, missing me. I knew this would be hard, but I need to really look forward.

I'm talking to a guy later about possible training. I'm having a career thought, will explain more depending how this conversation goes. I've got my DSS interview next Tuesday, so joining the dole queue - glum :(

But on the up-side I only needed one rabies jab here, not five. King Faisal got the dose wrong, as I'd already had the immunisation before leaving the UK. That's nice. So, all clear.

Driving up to Scotland Thursday for Samhain, Pagan New Year. Should be nice.

Finding the cold hard going. It's strange seeing leaves falling off trees for the first time in two years.

Going to put together a PowerPoint presentation and maybe go pester Rotary and WI clubs about Single Parent Network funding.

I feel like I've got a lot to do - certainly plenty of things to keep me busy. But it is really hard, and I really miss everybody so much. I miss my house. I miss my neighbourhood. I miss the weather. I miss lazy evenings in watching movies with D. I miss the way he smells, and soft, warm kisses. I miss calling up Giudi and Cathryn and going for a cold beer in an outdoor bar, eating tilapia and ibirhy with my hands. I miss sitting on Martine's porch in Nyamirambo smoking SM and putting the world to rights.

Essentially, it sucks.

But, despite the UK being cold, wet, grey, full of colourless birds and devoid of hippo and impala... got to make the best of it.

So. Now I need to shower, try and work out how to make the car work (which one's the gas pedal again?). Maybe I could find somewhere to get my ears pierced, or maybe I'll avoid town driving today, get back, talk to this guy later about training options. Think things will be clearer after that. It's whether I find a job here to get me through training, or whether I give up on the idea and start going for development/admin/funding positions again. All depends on how long the training options would be. I couldn't hack too long in the UK (and in saying that, have probably jinxed myself to never getting out again).

[NB 2013: Yup, I had. Still here four years later...]

Anyway. Farewell Rwanda! Be seeing you x

Oh Dearism

A friend just introduced me to Adam Curtis. Excellent stuff. The above is entitled 'Oh Dearism'.

If you like it, he also did The Trap, The Power of Nightmares and The Century of the Self.

Monkey See, Monkey Bite

Yeah, looks cute doesn't he ;o/

The past week has been utterly crazy and I really can't catch up as well as I'd like.

On Saturday 17th I had my leaving do at New Cactus in Kiyovu. It was the best leaving do I could have hoped for - exactly what I wanted. I decided not to open it up as a huge 'everybody come' thing and just kept it to the closest of close friends I have, so that was: Cathryn & J, Guidi & Maxime, Martine & Ruairí, Rose, Pacific and D.

We ate plenty and drank three or four giant carafes of wine. Oh, we glutted ourselves. There were frogs' legs and grilled lamb, tilapia in honey sauce, everything yummy you can imagine.

After the meal each person gave a speech traditional Rwandan style, only a little shorter ;) 

It was such a touching experience and these were the people who really know me, who I've laughed and cried with over the past two years. Incredibly personal - too much so to repeat - but it is an evening I will carry in my heart always.

After, Cathryn, J, Giudi, Maxime, myself and D went to Cadillac and partied on the dance floor with tequila. I tied J's dreads in a bow under his chin then used up all my remaining concentration on trying to stay upright in high heels.

As for the corrupt Pastor, he's been dealt with. He pretended to give in, saying he would come to a meeting to agree to Rose becoming President, then went to other Committee members and tried to tell them not to turn up. It all got really silly. Everyone did turn up and listened to him demanding money and saying our members weren't really single parents! This man is off the scale, as selfish and unpleasant as they come. 'Man of god' in his case equates to 'man who can take anything he can get, even from those in need.'

I totally lost heart. I was ready to walk out after a meeting of around four hours, in which absolutely nothing was decided or agreed upon (a couple of the members seem to have been bought off by him!).

But Rose and our Secretary, Marie, really picked my spirits up again. Rose is one heck of a fighter and refuses to be pushed around by anyone. Our Secretary is also an extremely strong woman, with far more patience and reason than I've ever possessed. Between them, and D as Treasurer, it'll all be fine. The Pastor can go jump if he thinks he's going to undo all of our hard work.

So, after the leaving do and that little drama, I decided to take some R&R in Kibuye with D. We booked into Bethany, and travelled there by bus on the Tuesday.

Kibuye is one of my favourite places in the whole of Rwanda, and Bethany is kind of traditional. The scenery on the bus journey is out of this world - truly breathtaking - and we got one of the nice, spacious Sotra busses.

On Wednesday we had a leisurely breakfast and decided to take a boat trip out around the islands. It was all going really well until we got to Napoleon Island, when dark clouds drew in and Lake Kivu suddenly got a bit choppy. D was getting queasy, so we decided to forgo that island and head for Amahoro Island, which has a bar on it.

We got there and I decided to go for a swim whilst D and the guides went for a walk. It's only a small island and doesn't take long to circumnavigate. After I finished swimming I decided to go find them. The waiter told me which way they went, so I decided to go the other way and meet them in the middle, still in my swimming costume with towel draped over my shoulder. The sun was coming out by then.

As I set off down the path, I hear this shout and turn to see the waiter running flat out towards me. I stop, thinking he's about to tell me the guys are already back, but then I see he's running after a monkey (see above) called Mikey. This pet monkey was tied to a tree when I first arrived, and the waiter was flicking bottle tops at it to get it to do something interesting for me. Not a very happy monkey.

Anyway, its string got tangled in a bush and the waiter shouted for me to carry on walking, so I did.

About 20 minutes later, I'm over the other side of the island. It's beautiful, green and lush, with crystal clear waters. A real tropical paradise.

All of a sudden I hear a noise.

I look down.

Hello monkey.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Vicious little b*st*rd went for me three times, aiming for my face. I used my leg and arm to block it. Martine took some pictures three days later:

It took me the first couple of lunges to fully comprehend what was happening, then I started shouting every word in Kinyarwanda, French, and English I could think of for 'help!'

I'd passed a guy feeding turkeys literally a minute ago and said 'mwiriwe', to which he replied 'yego'. I expected him to arrive instantly but he must have sat there scratching his head, wondering if he was hearing things, or whether he should finish chopping the woodpile before coming to see what the matter was.

It was a shame because the moment he arrived, the monkey fled. If he'd only come a couple of seconds earlier my arm might have been a lot better. But D and the guys arrived at about the same time he did. They'd run all the way from the other side of the island.

In hindsight, you think of all the things you could have done, like wrapped the towel around my arm to stop it sinking its teeth in, or hitting it with a stick, but it was so fast and so sudden that all I could think was to keep blocking it with my arm so it wouldn't get my face.

The Belgian Doctor says the monkey is infamous for attacking tourists, and it's done it several times before, which is really scary as there were little children on the island too. If it went for one of them, it could be a lot worse. Lies says she remembers the monkey many years ago and it used to be such a sweet, playful thing; that it wasn't tied up back then, and had the freedom of the island.

By the time D got there I was dripping blood. He dowsed me in alcohol rub, really took care of me. I was shaking like a leaf, but grabbed one of his cigarettes and then, despite the shock, found myself laughing - which probably disturbed the tour guides a little. I was laughing because, really, how the hell do you live that down?

"What happened to you?"

"Attacked by a monkey."

I mean, honestly. You have to see the funny side of it, and laughing helped steady my nerves a lot.

I asked them not to hurt monkey. Monkey was just being monkey. It's the only monkey on the island, it's been tied up forever, it has bottle tops thrown at it - of course monkey is going to be pissed off, wouldn't you be? They should send it back to Nyungwe Forest where it belongs.

But they beat it pretty severely, then threw it in the lake a couple of times, then fed it.

That's one confused monkey.

I feel sorry for it.

Though it did mean a sojourn to King Faisal hospital with D and Martine on the Thursday, and starting the post-exposure rabies jabs. It's been a nightmare organising it this end, though. I've arrived in the UK on a Sunday with nothing open, so there's a day's delay in the series of jabs as I have to wait for the second until tomorrow. King Faisal said I need five jabs, NHS Direct say two - it's all very hazy.

Hassle I could have done without, and one of the bites seriously needs more cleaning as it's gone a bit gooey. But, it's an impressive anecdote for pubs, parties, and bar mitzvahs. I should have a couple of impressive scars.

A monkey.

A flying feckin' monkey.

Typical.

*sigh*

[NB 2013: A few days ago, a friend sent me some pictures for a website I'm helping him with. Guess who featured in the photos! Grrrr.]

No Love Lost

Pastor Claude leading a prayer at the first
Single Parents Network public consultation.

Boy am I fed up.

Just had a long and unfruitful meeting.

Wanted to make some changes to the Single Parents' Committee.

As I'm leaving, I'm handing over the position of Treasurer to D.

Committee are fine with that.

The big problem then comes with Pastor Claude.

Pastor Claude was originally asked to step in as temporary President because MINALOC insisted that the head of a local NGO had to be Rwandan. We trusted him, we thought he would have our best interests at heart.

Sadly, no. MINALOC reversed their decision and now allow anyone to be the head of a local NGO, as demonstrated by the Meg Foundation (AKA Kinamba Project), which has a Brit as its President.

So, we - the Committee - felt it was time to make Rose the head of the Network, as she should have been from the very beginning.

Now, we are grateful to Pastor Claude. He has been very helpful. Without him it probably would have taken a lot longer to get our paperwork done.

However, the Network is an NGO for single parents. 98% of our members are single mothers.

Pastor Claude is neither a single parent nor a woman.

He is, however, absolutely adamant that he will cling to the presidency - unless we pay him!!!

So much for a 'man of God'!

Ermn, honour, decency, scruples - any of these words mean anything Pastor Claude? Corrupt is what it is.

But we stood firm. We said 'No, we will not pay you not to be President. This is a matter of public good, the good of our members. We appreciate everything you have done, really we do, but you cannot represent single parents or women, thus time has come for change.'

'Very well,' says Pastor Claude. 'I am going to go to the Revenue Authority and accuse you all of stealing funds from the organisation.' - !!!

I laughed, it sounded so absurd.

What a nasty little man.

So, that's the state of play. We wanted it to be a peaceful handshake and hand over, we even asked him to remain as a Signatory on the account as a gesture of good will. But, no.

Now we are reduced to calling an emergency meeting of the Committee to vote him out on a quorum.

Then we instate Rose as President, Peter (single father of five) as Vice-President, and D as Treasurer.

But what a dishonourable way to behave. He couldn't answer a single question about what being President meant to him, what he thought his role was, or how he was helping our members. All he saw was the title 'President, President, President' and tried to tell us that we had agreed to instate him for ten years!! Errr, no, we didn't. The Statute only says a term of five years - and we can vote you out whenever we chose with a majority of two-thirds.

So ~nyer~.

Just a question of how much stamping of feet and how much shouting he's going to do before he goes away.

Thankfully, the Committee are standing firm and our accounts are in order. So he can go jump.

Swine Flu?

Nice. Rwanda confirms its first six cases of Swine Flu (apparently originating from a family recently returned from the US) and I have a cold. Viciously sore throat, achy joints, hot flushes and snot. But it's just a head cold, I'm sure. Nothing Beechams won't cure - and is curing.

Was hoping to stave off illness until I got back, but it always hits when you have so much to do.

I've been really touched by people who read this blog and have contacted me with sympathy and understanding about the whole moving malarkey. One friend from uni, who has just moved to the Arab Emirates, and one to New Zealand. Nice to know people are reading and that some of my experiences resonate.

Got so much to do and feel too yuck to do them.

Ten days to go and still no flight confirmation. VSO ask for flight booking two months in advance, so they can get the cheapest flights, then leave it until two weeks before to put in the flight request!

So, the provisional flight details are: 24th October, 7:45 pm; Kigali - Brussels - Gatwick. Arriving UK 7am 25th October.

I'm bummed it's Brussels, as their entertainment system totally sucks. There was a Kenya flight but it's more expensive so I didn't get it. Kenya is much nicer than Brussels, except for Nairobi Airport. Oh well, either way gets me from here to there.

Would desperately like to know my luggage allowance as I've started packing already. Just bits and pieces. Not taking any major presents home this time, as I did that when I visited in August. Just coffee, tea, and waragi - personal supply :oI

Got to change the Single Parent Network's bank. EcoBank has queues out the door every time I go, and charges a FRW 1,000 monthly fee. Sod that. Fina Bank NGO accounts are totally free and the service is much better.

Going to meet up with Rose and see the shop. Excited about that. Bringing D on board as a replacement treasurer for me.

AfID (Accounting for International Development) are sending us an extremely experienced chartered accountant volunteer after Christmas to help sort out our books and train Rose in financial management. Most excellent :)

The Fina Bank/Co-Operative Bank funds issue is over to the Co-op Foreign Investigation Team at the moment. It appears to have nothing to do with Fina Bank or the account number error - seems SWIFT just decided to send the money somewhere completely different to Fina Bank's correspondence bank. As we were only asked to provide the final destination account details, we couldn't possibly be responsible for the money disappearing in Europe. We didn't even know it went through Europe. Good argument for SWIFT taking some responsibility for reclaiming the funds.

Meanwhile, I've briefed Moses, the new Deaf Association Project Coordinator, on everything I think he needs to know to keep the place ticking over. They should get a new volunteer in January, so he'll be prepped and ready to help them settle in.

Had my end of placement review yesterday with Amanda, Emillienne and all the Deaf Association staff. Went really well, and huge praise from my colleagues. Was a good meeting and they have come a long way.

Then Amanda and I dashed down to Kanombe Airport to wave off Lies and Kassim. Had a huge group-hug and I know Holy Jah Doves will be with them. Rastafari!

Was very emotional.

I've also just sold my spare bed and need to find a spanner to take it apart.

Having massive water issues. The mystery that is Rwanda: it's rained heavily every day since Thursday, and I have no water. Go figure.

In addition, some workmen came and messed around with the drains outside my gate for two days. Piles of mud everywhere. When they finished, my bathroom sink was completely blocked. I tried plunging it, but no joy. Then I noticed the mud was moving - loads of little leaches in my sink! Swimming about and crawling along the side. Breeding.

Lovely.

So, I'm back to paying for water deliveries for my last couple of weeks. Toilets stink again. Guard never shows up.

D's been brilliant. He found the guard, got him to do my washing (almost ran out of clothes) and is tracking down a spanner for me. He's a good guy. He's starting up a coffee/poetry/music night at the restaurant at the studio. Good stuff.

Essentially, the leaving mayhem has begun. I'll assume I don't have pig flu and continue to go about my daily business.

Ten days.

Crap.