Friday Tipple

Looking out from my well protected home.

 

Saved me a walk into town – Léon was happy for me to leave the keys ‘til Monday, so I headed to the VSO office to do some work on the ‘tinternet and type up some letters. Gedge and Vikki were on chat – good to hear from them. Nice to know old Blighty’s still there even if I can’t remember what it was like to have a hot shower :op

I was planning to book in for lunch at VSO, but the kitchen was closed. Then the heavens opened and I was stuck in the office without food for a couple of hours. When it finally eased, I started back to mine and met Martine arriving, so she came back with me to see the house. She had cakes with her, I made coffee and produced bananas, so we munched on those and then had a wee tipple of waragi with coke as a celebration of it being Friday :)

The meeting was good and light-hearted. We cover things like managing resources, dealing with problem colleagues or bosses, defusing difficult situations, general capacity building and efficiency. It’s a good source of support and advice – no lunch, though :(

Damiscéne came to tell me he was leaving tomorrow. Apparently, Peter will come to introduce my new guard. I had a rant to Mum on the phone – the whole guard situation is stressing me out. I really don’t like someone wandering about in my back yard. This’ll mean three different blokes doing the job. More than that, though, I don’t like having to close my curtains of an evening or feeling like I can’t cook out back because there’s someone there. It feels intrusive. I don’t dry my undies on the line, I dry them inside (probably no bad thing given tumbu fly) – it’s just little things like that which make you feel like your home isn’t entirely your own. 

Also, Damiscéne couldn’t tell me when Peter would be calling. "Evening," he said, but it would have been nice to have a rough idea, it being Saturday. So, grrr, still not overly happy about the whole guarding situation. I am seriously considering asking VSO to stop it. I like my private space and this is making me feel a bit stressed, don’t really want to keep it up for two years. I think the guard is more symbolic than necessary. I feel very safe here. If I am going to get broken into, it’s likely to be during the day when neither myself or the guard are here. 

Some vols have been broken into at night and slept through it! If someone were going to do it here, they’d have to negotiate a padlocked iron gate, or climb a high wall laced with broken glass, then get through a barred, deadlocked, front or back door, then another locked wooden door inside (I lock both the kitchen and living room doors at night), then another one if they were headed for my room – which is highly unlikely. It’s better protected than most houses in England I’ve lived in. Besides, other than the laptop - which would be in my room if I didn’t have a guard - there’s really nothing of value to steal.

So, I shall give it some thought. It’s only 8pm here but I’ve come over dead tired. Going to get an early night.

Moto Racing

Kigali Motos

Did go to Salsa last night, it was wicked. Over at a bar in Gikondo. I took a bus into town and met Martine, Hannah (who I heard on the radio the other day promoting National Volunteering Day :op), Kirsti and her sister, Jodie, who is visiting.

Martine was unwell and went home (she’s much better now). The rest of us took a taxi to the venue. It’s a very cool wooden building with a dance floor. Quite dark at night. When my eyes adjusted, I realised it was actually open-topped as the stars were shining down.

Ordered beer and brochettes, and Jo started the lesson. It was a lot of fun. I picked up the basics - anything more complicated and I fall over myself :op

The best part of the night was the ride home. Kirsti, Jodi, and I all took motos as they live a little bit past me. The drivers raced each other there! It was quite funny because we kept overtaking each other. Then we hit the cobbled road leading up to my house lol That was an experience! 

Anyway, I won! It was seriously funny. Deedee (my driver) and I were in stitches by the time I dismounted. He was so sweet. It started really innocently, just overtaking, but got pretty competitive by the end.

Bit pants today. The water's off again and I forgot to fill the bucket last night, but at least there’s electricity for a cup of tea. It was off all afternoon yesterday. Going into the office to drop off the keys to Léon, then there’s a Capacity Building meeting at VSO this arvo. Augustin’s given me clearance to go. Never know, might even get fed again :op

Just scanning my laptop for viruses. My music stopped working and my background disappeared for a while, but seems to be okay again now. I scan my pen drive each time I put it in and there’s invariably something needs neutralising. It’s amazing how many bugs there are floating around. Definitely a challenge the developing world faces. If they can’t protect the computers they have, there’ll be havoc. I keep getting bugs from the computer at work, and that’s not even connected to the internet!

Power Cuts

Grubby FRW 100 Notes

Had an annoying day today. I have ‘office issues’. My issues are with communications and the electricity. We don’t have a phone or the internet. Basically, we’re cut off from the entire outside world.Very difficult to conceive of doing anything when news letters from the International Deaf Children’s Society and the World Federation for the Deaf have a web address or e-mail address every second line. 

Ermn, hello – that’s world and international – i.e. developing countries that don’t always have regular access. Anyway, communications I could live with at present if it weren’t for the power cuts which leave us without a computer. There are only so many ‘to do’ lists you can write before you actually want to get on with something.

Léon was typing in the morning. When he left, I leapt on the computer – two minutes later, power cut. I gave it an hour, then wandered home (in the blistering heat) to go to the VSO office and use their internet/computer. I booked myself into lunch there (FRW700/70p) for a treat and got myself fed up. Started tippety-tapping away on the computer... power cut. I gave it half an hour, then decided to go banking and shopping. That accomplished, I’m now at home tippety-tapping on my laptop... there’s a power cut. I have enough battery to last another hour and a quarter, by which time it should be back on. Haven’t known it to be this bad before!

Water was pissing me off yesterday. I was off most of the day - the one night I forgot to fill the bucket up ;o( Sod’s law! I always fill my washing bucket up at night so that I'm guaranteed a wash in the morning.

Aaaaanyway. On the up-side, whilst waiting for the power to come back on at VSO, I perused their vast library and fiction shelves. Found Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters. Loved the TV adaptation and always wanted to read the book, so I shall, once I finish Pillars of the Earth.

In addition, there’s a shelf where volunteers leave stuff they don’t need, often when they're heading home. Some lovely lady left a couple of packs of doxy (antimalarials) – so that’s brilliant. Pocketed a few of those and an alcohol hand rub, which is always useful after you’ve been shaking hands all day and handling FRW100 notes, which are grubby as they come.

Also found Cadbury Eclairs at my local supermarket! Another volunteer said they’re worth investing in because they’re actually nice. Much of the chocolate here is a bit rubbish/gone off. So, I’m happy. Just blew £15 on grocery shopping! That’s a lot of money, but it should keep me stocked up for a while. Saw a bottle of Bailey’s on the shelf too - £23!!! Think I’ll stick with the waragi thank you very much - £1.30 ;) 

Contemplating going to Salsa tonight and dancing out some of my frustration. First, need to go wash my hair - it’s been four days.

Aussies!

Auslan alphabet, same as BSL

Last night was good. I introduced Alexis and Philip. 

It was a bit of a sobering moment when Alexis explained that, during the genocide, there was a good chance that the area we were sitting in would quite probably have been filled with bodies. Philip’s going to the gacaca this weekend. I’m looking forward to hearing about it. He asked Alexis directly whether he was Hutu or Tutsi, which is a question I haven’t asked. Same as I don’t ask Bob what he was convicted of to land on Death Row. Of course I’m curious, but I think sometimes it’s good to stay your curiosity. Philip is a very direct person and I don’t think it was wrong of him to ask. 

Geert referred to it as the ‘H-word’ and the ‘T-word’ in Gahini. You don’t talk about it because the constitution sates that there are no Hutus or Tutsis, only Rwandans. Would the English, the Irish, the Scottish and the Welsh give up their identities completely in favour of being ‘British’? Nice ideal, I guess, but possibly somewhat impractical. Alexis diplomatically replied that only 1% of the population was ever likely to give a straight answer to that question.

I also asked him about the umupfumu question: does it literally translate as 'into death'? He doesn’t know but will ask around. He said it’s also very close to the word for ‘cadaver’ or ‘corpse’. Considering how close to the Congo we are, thoughts of mayombero spring to mind...?

Anyway, enough. Must stem my curiosity once more. It’s interesting though – people here don’t seem to mind too much if you’re a ‘paganist’ so long as you believe in something. Atheism causes a real problem, it’s just not conceived of here.

Today started pretty slowly. I arrived at 9am. The cleaner was washing the office, so I sat next door with Léon for about an hour until I couldn’t take the inertia any longer and headed to the nearest internet café to get on with a few bits and pieces.

I came back and just sat around the office whilst Léon typed up some stuff. Started working on my Kinyarwanda – slow going, but keeps me occupied.

Things really became more exciting around 2pm when Augustin’s guests arrived – Aussies! Utterly fantastic because BSL and Auslan are so very, very similar. There’s no problems communicating in sign, bit like speaking UK and US English. It was brilliant to meet them and have a chat and a joke without worrying if my AKR was correct. Loads of Deaf turned up and we had a brilliant afternoon signing in both languages. It was excellent. Also got to have a proper chat with Augustin about a few office matters, which was good. Now have some stuff to be getting on with, but the lack of internet is a huge problem. May try and spend some time at VSO using their connection.

Left quite late because I was having such fun. I was invited to a birthday do tonight, but passed it up as I was quite tired. Just had a nice relaxing chill-out at home. Minor triumph: my washing was finally dry when I got home, after three days on the line :op 

Not too sure what’s happened to my guard though – seems to be out for the night.

Umupfumu

Kigali Rain

Another really laid-back day in the office. Léon managed to get the keys back, and Bob was in. Set up our new all-singing, all-dancing printer. Had an Evangelist preacher come in to offer his services. He’d heard there was a Deaf organisation, and wanted to meet with some of our flock to see if he could offer spiritual guidance and support. I've sent him to the Deaf Church on Sunday, and arranged for Betty to meet him there. Said he’d probably better ask them :op

Chatted to Léon a bit. I told him about my washing and he was really surprised I knew how to hand-wash clothes. He just assumed we put everything in a machine in Britain. I said we do with most things, but not everything - I still know how to do it. We were also talking about paganism some more. Apparently, there are pagans here who worship the old gods in secret. I was flicking through the Kinya dictionary today and found the word for Witchdoctor, which is Umupfumu. I flicked some more. I need to ask Alexis about this, but uru-mupf seems to mean ‘death’ and ‘umu’ = ‘in/into/out of/from (inside)’.... ho hum, thinks I. That’s interesting.

I also found the word for a harmful ancestral spirit: igi-sigo (ibi = plural); evil = ikibi; sacrifice: igi-tambo (ibi for plural); to dream = ku/se-rota; breath/spirit/steam = umwuka (interestingly the same word for each); mystery = urojijo and Witchdoctor: uburozi (also synonymous with ‘poison’).

Additionally, some nature-based words: sun – izuba, moon – ukwezi, star – inyenyeri, rain – imvura, sky – ikirere or ijuru, tree – igi-ti (ibi for plural), wind storm – ishuheri.

Just as we were leaving the office, the heavens absolutely opened. Haven’t seen such a heavy downpour since I got here. The road was literally a river. Léon and I sheltered in the recording studio next door, where we met a couple of Canadians who are friends of one of the guys there. My washing was still on the line back home – I thought it had probably blown into next door’s garden by that point :op Water came flooding in the back door of the office. Léon had the foresight to put the computer wires up on chairs. It was an impressive deluge. The Rastas gave us a lift home in their jeep – really kind of them.

There are two wet and two dry seasons here. According to the dictionary (which isn’t overly reliable), they are called:

Rainy
September – November: Umuhindo
March – May: Itumba

Dry
June – September: Icyi
December – January: Urugari

Locked Out

Lol – funny day. Gave my keys to Gerard last Thursday at the HIV/AIDS conference. He said ‘Meet me at the office at 8:30.’ So, I turned up... no Gerard. 

Sat watching TV with the Rastas next door. Léon turned up at nine, so we both sat there watching TV for a couple of hours. Still no Gerard. Eventually, we called it a day because neither of us could get into the office - they were Léon’s keys I gave to Gerard!

Came home, did some banking, bought some food and a very cute glass kerosene lamp for my table. Did a ton of washing. It was a glorious, sunny day. Pegged my clothes out... The heavens opened. Literally as I hung my last sock up. Sod’s law.

Just stayed in and relaxed. Mum phoned, then Dad. Had a good natter. That was about it really.

Jambo Beach

Crested Crane

Forewarning: this is going to be a very long post :op

What an awesome weekend. Truly was brilliant.

Had a lazy Saturday morning, washed my hair (still in cold water – element from the Chinese Shop didn’t work, nor do most things you buy there ;o/) and packed my bag. Then caught a bus into town and met Mel, Joanne, Morley and Craig (Mel’s housemate from Glasgow) at the bus station where we picked up our tickets and awaited our ride: a slightly plusher version of the standard bisi, with white, padded seats. We were about the only people to get on in mumuji so got comfy seats. Then the bus started off back past Remera, so Mel, Craig and I could have joined there, but it’s a very busy station and we wouldn’t have been guaranteed seats.

The journey out to Gahini was absolutely beautiful. This country is so, so green, with big rolling hills. Banana plants, avocado trees, huge cows with the biggest horns you’ve ever seen (how they manage to lift their heads I have no idea!) and houses made of nothing but mud and sticks.

We travelled east for about an hour until we reached Kayonza, a relatively large town, where we turned north. Not too long after that we passed a big sign for Jambo Beach and Mel, who had a rough idea of the way, knocked on the roof to tell the bus to stop.

Right next to the stop was a winding dirt road going up into the woods. We started to ascend and, at the top, found a small village: Gahini. Just as we were passing the school, Paula and Geert (Dutch volunteer) appeared on Geert’s motorbike. They showed us to the guest house. We dumped our luggage and then wandered up to the house that Paula shares with Ghislain and Ginette (both from Quebec). The guest house was nice but basic – no running water – and I shared a room with Mel.

Paula, Ghislain and Ginette’s house is absolutely beautiful. It sits at the top of the hill with a high hedge wall around and a view of the lake below. There were eleven of us gathered, including the birthday girl: Ginette & Ghislain, Joanne & Morley (Quebec), Joe (Ireland), Mel (England), Craig (Scotland), Geert (Holland) and Martine (Scotland, originally France).

That morning, the head of Paula’s school sent a present: a skinned haunch of goat, hoof still attached :op When we arrived it was already in the pot. With so many French and French/Canadians about it was smelling divine. Whilst the men folk went off to requisition more beer, we stayed behind and prepared the veg: carrots, shallots, potatoes, garlic... utterly wonderful.

Whilst we were doing that, we got to talking and exchanging stories about the genocide. Two of the vols work in the memorial centre. Everybody had an experience where something had touched them. Joanne had been running a workshop where one woman recognised another who she hadn’t thought had survived – thirteen years of not knowing. A very emotional reunion. One of the leaders of Martine’s organisation was blinded in the genocide. He placed her hand on his head to feel where the machete had gone through his skull and severed the optic nerve. Another volunteer was taken on a tour of her local area by a woman who pointed out the spot where, from behind a bush, she saw her young brother’s arms and legs hacked off. She said it took him two days to die because they just left him there in the road and nobody could go to help him. Then she pointed out the house, next to the spot, where the man who did it still lives. Apparently he was tried and convicted at the gacaca, given about four years, and is now back in his home.

Paula and Geert have been given permission, like Philip, to go to witness a gacaca court in session – the genocide tribunal. Apparently it should be ending this year or early next year. Usually muzungus aren’t allowed to go, but you can apply for a permit. Philip is going as he’s a lawyer and works for the Department of Justice. A discussion broke out amongst us as to whether it was right, as volunteers, to go and see such an internal matter. I erred on the side of yes, if permission is given. For the survivors it is usually very important that the outside world sees what has happened here. It is a difficult decision left up to each individual I suppose.

Anyway, the boys eventually returned and we ate the meal of a lifetime! Having been severely under-fed the entire week, because no one eats at work, I thought I was in heaven! We started with Ginette’s spaghetti bolognese, then moved on to the goat casserole, and, to complete it, a home-baked birthday cake with Nutella icing! We sang Happy Birthday in five languages: French, English, Kinyerwanda (Paula’s boss, who donated the goat, joined us), British Sign Language and Irish Gaelic (Joe’s language)! Then we sang Irish, Scottish and French drinking songs. Much alcohol was consumed – there was even red wine! My first sup of it since arrival as the cheapest bottle here is about £8, so volunteers don’t tend to buy it. Ginette and Morley were playing the spoons, some dancing was involved... it was brilliant :)

By the time we’d finished and cleaned up, it was dark. I saw my first firefly in the garden! Little thing with a flashing yellow bum. Was beautiful. :op

After dinner had settled, we took a walk back down the hill to Jambo Beach. There was the most glorious full moon, like the kind you used to get at Tinkinswood, where you can see everything. Jambo Beach is this little place down by the lake shore. There’s no one else around, so it’s the perfect spot for a party. It’s a big, circular, thatched building with a bar.

Paula and I invested in a bottle of waragi and split it with Sprite. I took mine out to the back and sat next to the lake, thick mist making it impossible to see the far side. Something moved next to the tree. When I looked down at the water, I saw a huge crested crane! Utterly, utterly beautiful. Very regal and dignified. I sat still and watched it for ages, then it walked up the bank, past me, no more than a couple of feet away! Up in the branches of the tree were weaver bird nests – round sacks made of dry grass and reeds, woven together by clever little birds and lined with soft moss.

We boogied our little harts out at that wonderful bar on the shore of a deserted lake. The music here is so much less aggressive than American rap, and there’s nothing quite like dancing to Bob Marley in the centre of Africa.

The walk home was utterly incredible. The silver light of the full moon meant we could see everything, and the thick mist (which got thicker as we climbed the hill to Gahini) lent it a magical note – something from folk mythology.

The next morning was a continuation of this most excellent weekend. We all piled back into Paula’s house for a wonderful breakfast – there was toast, tea, coffee, Nutella, Dairylea (another much-loved treat) and jam. It was the best breakfast I’ve had since omelet on toast at Amani. T’was wonderful. You really appreciate your grub here.

After breakfast, we took a slow walk back down to Jambo beach and threw ourselves in the lake! It was a glorious, sunny day - perfect weather. The water was bath-warm (British bath, not cold-water Rwandan bath ;) ) with the occasional frosty current running through the deeper parts. Spent ages splashing about, was the best time. Saw huge hawks and a beautiful kingfisher fly overhead. No one here worries too much about bilharzia – you’re just advised to get yourself checked out a couple of months after your last dip. If you get it, you can take medication to get rid of it. You’re not going to avoid swimming – not with water so lovely.

After that, we flopped back into the shade. A platter of four huge grilled Ugandan fish were brought to the table with salad and chips. We ate ‘til we were stuffed. It was delicious.

Eventually, it was time to go home. So sad to leave :( 

Martine and I got a local bus into Kayonza. We bought tickets for the rest whilst we waited for them to arrive on the next available bus. Then it was a long journey home in another standard bus. Slightly uncomfortable, but I was so high on the weekend I barely noticed :op

Was most excellent. Only downer being my camera getting swiped (think from the boot of the bus), but it only had pics from that weekend on and everyone else took loads, too. So, not too bad. I did come home with a weaver bird’s nest! It was lying on the ground and it’s utterly beautiful so I brought it home as a spirit house for my make-shift shrine.

Will remember this weekend for a very long time to come :)

Breakfast

Lazy Morning and Disability Meeting

Antonia

Aaaaaah, luxury. I lounged in bed for aaages. Woke naturally at seven, but dozed after that – blissful.

Had my first VSO Disability meeting this morning. A chance for all the volunteers working in that sector to get together and discuss news, offer support, and develop strategy. It was really useful. We had a guest speaker, Ester Nandudu, from ADRA (Adventist Development and Relief Agency). They’re a huge organisation operating in 123 countries worldwide!

After that, the best part of all – I got fed :op Not just a snatched samosa or a peanut butter sarny, but a whole plate full of food, just for me! We went for melange at a bar next to my house. It was heavenly. Food never tasted so good!

I had to dash home after though, to save my washing as the heavens opened and a storm rolled in. When the rain eased up, I wandered back to the VSO office and Antonia gave me two Sign Language dictionaries: one from Uganda, the other Zaire (now the DRC) – that makes a start on my resource library! :)

Went into town from there to check on buses. There’s five of us going to Gahini - not Gisenyi! I’m still crap at geography here :op North East, not North West! We leave tomorrow to see Paula, but tomorrow morning is a special day: umuganda. Once a month, everything closes down for a morning and the whole country does community service! Nice idea, but it can really cause problems if you have to be somewhere because the buses don’t run.

I went to check whether we needed to book, then headed to the internet café until it got dark. Hit the bus station at peak rush-hour, but was glad to do it. Hadn’t been on a bus on my own there since the ordeal. Like getting on a horse after a fall, I needed to do it. 

I wandered up and down, but all the buses were choka and going the wrong way. Then a miracle happened. This tall, dark, beautiful man called out Kimironko (Chi-me-ron-go) which is the main bus stop near mine, and pointed to the end of the row where a completely empty bus was sitting! I couldn’t believe my luck – the ancestors were definitely looking over my shoulder that evening :op

Further uplifted by the drive home. This country really does have its moments. Sitting on a bisi (bus) listening to African radio and driving through Kigali – there’s something about it that makes you smile. Think Last King of Scotland when he first arrives in Africa – that bus, that music... that’s kind of that feeling. 

For the first time today, walking around town, I really felt like I was starting to feel at home. Like when you’re learning to drive and everything’s going so fast you don’t feel in control, then all of a sudden the world slows down and you realise you’ve slotted into place. It’ll take a while yet, but something definitely felt different today for a little while.

There’s a wonderful full moon at the moment. Last night, I looked up and there was a huge ring around it, like a halo. Really looking forward to seeing some more of the country. It’s about a two hour bus ride to Gahini (Ga-hee-nee) so plenty of time to stare out at the world. I’m unashamedly going to act like a tourist and take a few discrete photographs.

Ups and Downs

View of Rwandex Road from front of RNAD office.

After one crap day and one brilliant day, I’ve had a day of ups and downs today!

Was up at 6am to meet Betty and Gerard in town for 7:30. We took another bus to Kicukiro for a Disability AIDS Prevention conference. Met Augustin and Léon there.

What a long day! Seriously. Started off okay – everyone was talking Kinyarwanda, so I had to follow through the AKR interpreter (Betty). Man, interpreters in Britain have absolutely no idea how good they have it! Betty is a volunteer, trained at an interpreting school in Uganda. She's seriously good at her job and interpreters between AKR, English, French and Kinyarwanda. She does whole days on her own for little or no money, never complaining. Rightly loved by all for being a stunning person. She's the only trained interpreter in the entire country! 

Makes those in the UK who get paid £250 - almost a year’s average wage in Rwanda - a day for co-working between just two languages look like child’s pay.

I understood most of it, but occasionally totally zoned out. Just too many languages going on. Lot of information in French, Kinya and AKR, but nothing at all in English. It was seriously draining by the end. I was lagging by lunchtime at 2pm and desperately needed food. Once again, only half a peanut butter sarny and half an avocado (from my garden) for breakfast before I left the house. Not so good.

What hit a nerve was that there is absolutely no queuing system here. I took a plate, managed to get a little salad on it, when 50 people descended, all jostling for position. I stood back at first – fatal mistake, couldn’t get in. Eventually, I walked off for a while. When I came back and the queue finally subsided enough to even see the table, there was nothing left!

I had a mouthful of noodles and a slice of beetroot! Devastating. Then Augustin, being extremely kind, went to get me a drink of coke, but I didn’t want coke. I was feeling desperately dehydrated and would have killed for a bottle of water. But the bottles of water all went at break, before I could get one. Of course, him being Deaf and everyone else speaking Kinya, I couldn’t stop him. 

Again, a really petty thing but, combined with no food and the lack of any form of courtesy in the non-existent queuing system, it just tipped me over the edge. I went and had a cry in the toilets, feeling utterly homesick.

Anyhoo.

The afternoon was much better. Totally long-winded and repetitive, took the best part of four hours to do one action plan exercise! But the outcome was useful and, by the end, I was having a good joke with Augustin and Gerard. I had been placed in charge of taking photographs. I wasn’t much good at it, though.

Another thing that’s a bit weird about Rwandan meetings is that mobile phones are never turned off. If someone gets a phone call, even the executive person speaking, they will answer it and start talking, or walk out of the room! lol It’s bizarre. The conversation you are having is always secondary to whoever might be about to call.

At the end of the day, a lady came around to pay us our travel expenses. I was expecting just 200 or something for the bus. Including going into town, getting there, and getting home, it cost me FRW350 (35p). Instead, everyone was given a cash sum of FRW3000 (£3)! I was amazed – then remembered it’s a common custom here. To get anyone to attend a conference, meeting, or event, you pay them an attendance fee. It’s a big problem for NGOs trying to encourage participation.

Anyway, Léon walked me back to the bus stop and went with me halfway back to mine. I explained to him about feeling homesick before. He was really sweet, told me to call him anytime I needed some company. He’s a nice guy.

I’m not going to the second day of the conference tomorrow as I have my first monthly Disability Meeting at VSO, where all the volunteers working in that sector get together to exchange news and give support. Looking forward to that. Then this weekend I get my first trip out of Kigali. Going up to Gisenyi in the far North-West to see Paula for her birthday with Mel, Martine and a few others :)


[NB 2013: Although not mentioned at the time, this was the first day that I met my extremely good friend, Jo. Jo is linguistically gifted. I had been practising my Kinyarwanda all week. When we were going around the tables doing introductions, I stood up and proudly explained, in Kinya, what my name was. Jo came in shortly after - the only other muzungu there. When she stood to make her introduction in Kinya, she not only told them her name, she told them where she worked, how long she'd been there, and what her organisation did! I hated her on sight, we've been great friends ever since.]

4-5 Means You're Lying

Had a brilliant day today :)

Had a nice lazy morning chilling out in the office with Gerard, Betty (the interpreter), and another lady who I only know by sign-name, which is how I know most people now.  It was lovely and really relaxed. Larned some interesting new signs including ‘4-5’ which is the four and then five (closed-fist) which is a bible reference meaning ‘you’re lying’, used when you don’t think someone’s telling you the truth. There’s a non-bible way of signing it too, but I thought it was quite clever.

 

Again, Gerard is so patient with me, making sure (even if it takes several efforts to explain) that I understand everything. I also learned a multi-channel sign (MCS) for: ‘someone who, when you ask them to tell somebody something, will go to them and completely change the meaning of what you said for their own benefit.’ G handshape, pointing up, tapping from right to left across forehead.

Betty is amazing. She trained in Uganda, which is really advanced for interpreting. Later, at our meeting with Amanda, she was translating between AKR, Kinyarwanda and French! Seriously talented lady.

The lovely Rastaman (whose name I’ve shamefully forgotten, even though he remembers mine!) was fixed to his telly today as Rwanda joined the Commonwealth and the Queen appeared. He called me in to watch lol

Then we were supposed to meet with Augustin at quarter-to four at the VSO office. I received a text saying ‘be punctual’, so I was panicking like hell when we were just leaving the office at five, then waiting for a bus for ages. I was terrified – my first meeting and I was going to be late! We arrived about quarter-past... and Augustin wasn’t even there yet! lol He meant 4:45 African time!

Fun meeting. Augustin spoke in Kinyerwanda and French, Amanda spoke in French, Gerard just kind of watched it all, and I followed the bits that were translated into sign. I felt like a fully-fledged Deaf lass, relying on the AKR interpreter lol Was fun though.

After that, I started walking back to my place when I got a call from Alexis, who was already waiting for me at the gate. He took me over to his office at Exfod, the language school, and introduced me to some of the teachers and the boss. It’s an impressive establishment with a computer learning suite, loads of classrooms etc. Very nice indeed. I even received a brief personal Kinyarwanda lesson in between him making a few phone calls. Then we headed back over to mine and went for beer and brochettes. I was ravenous as, again, I hadn’t eaten all day – just a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast at about 8am. Going to have to work this out somehow.

Had a really nice chat. Alexis even translated for me with Damascène, so I sorted out a couple of house things I wasn’t sure about – like rubbish collection.

Dead tired now, though. Off to bed very soon. Got an AIDS meeting in town at 8am and meeting Gerard and Betty at 7:30! Days really do start early here. Was a nice day though, feeling much better.

Bus Full of Tears :'o(

Kigali Bus Chaos

Awful day today.

I burst into tears in front of a whole bus full of people after being chased for money by a drunk boy lol I felt like such a prat.

The day started well. Went to work, computer held out for a long time today so I did some typing. Even got to do a brief bit of interpreting in AKR for Gerard and a person from the Health Ministry who’d come to find out what we do. That was good. But still haven’t got anything to actually do yet, so excused myself early. I had to go into town and get a cheque book so that I can withdraw money from my account. The bank is closed weekends, and I’m away anyway this weekend, so I had to go in the week. After that, I popped into the internet café to trawl GrantNet for potential funders in preparation for some projects getting underway. Doesn’t hurt to look.

Problem was that I hadn’t eaten again. I was so hungry, to the point where I had to stop and go in search of food. I went next door to the Trade Centre, which has a reputation for being over-priced and for muzungus. Indeed, I see more white faces in there in ten minutes than in three days walking to work and back. But I couldn’t think of anywhere else selling food, so I went to café Bourbon which is the posh coffee house in town, and is indeed over-priced. I had a latte and ordered savoury crepes, but Rwandans have a very sweet tooth so even the crepes and bread tasted sweet.

Wasn’t bad, though. Probably wouldn’t eat there again unless in a similarly desperate situation. Then I treated myself and went to the supermarket. It’s a bit more expensive than the one over the road from me, but I wanted to buy a water heater - like a big kettle filament - so that I can wash my hair in warm water. I don’t mind a cold water wash in the morning, but just now and then hot water would be a wonderful treat. I haven’t washed my hair in three days.

It was well timed because just after I entered the UTC it bucketed it down, but by the time I left it was dry.

Anyway, me and my shopping took a stroll to the bus station, which is something like bedlam with loads of these mini buses jostling for rank and everyone shouting out destinations. Last time I asked someone and they showed me to the right bus and put me on it. This time I did the same. This young lad took me to the right bus but, when I got on, he started pushing his hand through the window across the passengers, begging for money. 

I was a bit annoyed because I could have found the bus myself - next time I won’t ask - but figured I probably should give him something. I thought 100, but when I looked in my purse I didn’t have anything small enough, and I wasn’t going to give him 500, so I shook my head. Then he tried to get on the bus and was shouting so everyone was looking at me. I didn’t understand what he was saying, and I was feeling really guilty and panicked all at the same time. The bus started pulling off and eventually a girl next to me passed a 50 piece coin across. Someone passed it out the window and that’s when I burst into tears. I just didn’t know what to do or what anyone was saying. I was thinking they must all think I was a terrible muzungu woman.

Then a lady sitting next to me patted my arm and told me not to worry, and the lady, Angana, who had passed the coin turned to me and explained that the people on the bus were supportive of me and that the boy was drunk. She was so kind. It was just too much when I didn’t understand what was happening or what people were thinking of me. I was in shock, and tired from not having eaten, and from the heat as it was a very hot day. I felt even worse because, as a culture here, people don’t cry in public. They say there’s always something worse that could happen to them - meaning the genocide. Martine once met a woman whose foot had just been crushed by a bus and that’s the explanation she gave for not crying!

I got back to my house, locked the gate and just burst into tears again, feeling really stupid. Then, about twenty minutes (and two emergency cigarettes) later, Karen and her twin sister Jenny, who is visiting, knocked at the gate. 

She was just popping over to say ‘hello’ and introduce us, as she’s staying in Kigali for a meeting. Talk about good timing. She explained that she’d cried every fourth day for two months when she first arrived, and that I was doing well to have kept it together as much as I had. 

I also texted Martine and Paula (and Cassie & Graeme lol – kept my mind busy for a while). Karen invited me for Italian, Martine called and offered to come over and take me for a drink, and Paula (being further away) texted me. It’s all normal, apparently. Everyone had these moments in the first few months. It was just so unbelievably good to have the other volunteers about to tell these things to. I felt so much better after Karen had been. It’s just good to know it’s normal and happens to everybody, you don’t feel so silly then.

Anyway, end of day. Hopefully a better one tomorrow, and I have a hot water heater :op 

Hope the bucket doesn’t melt...

Twiddling Thumbs

Ugh. Wharra boring day! Arrived at 9am, still without any clear idea of what I’m supposed to be doing. This is common in the first few weeks for many volunteers, apparently. Turned the computer on and tried to type up some e-mails, but the power kept outing. I think it’s a problem with the surge protector, it keeps beeping before everything shuts off. So, no computer, and there’s nothing in the office. Twiddled my thumbs for a while, signed to a few people who came in. The place always seems to be full of life as most Deaf people can’t get jobs so come to socialise. Léon wasn’t in today, but Bob made a note for the door to keep socialising in the meeting area and out of the main office.

Met a lovely Deaf guy called Apollo, who is seriously well travelled. He's been to the Congo, Tanzania, Burundi, and is originally from Uganda. More of the Ugandan signs are like English because they’re an anglaphone country. Days of the week here are based on French, so Monday is the L handshape, which confuses me, not knowing any French. But Apollo signs the same as Britain for the days. He’s an artist and makes cards out of wood and paper. They’re quite common in the craft centres here and he says he can make about 50 a day if he works hard.

Around lunchtime I was absolutely ravenous. No one goes for lunch here! Same in Martine’s placement, I’ve heard. Another volunteer suggested it was because people couldn’t afford to eat. That might have been the original reason, but I think it’s now established tradition. Bob later took a few of us down to the shop where we had cupcakes and fizzy pop. So, eating does happen, just not at lunchtime. I’ve been told not to eat or drink in front of people by other volunteers. You don’t eat in the street for example, because of the poverty/food issue. All very difficult. I ended up popping down to the shop beneath us, buying a couple of small samosas (only thing available), and eating them there. Very difficult to know what to do, but I was going faint with hunger.

That evening, I went to yet another bar next door (there are a few) with Philip. We had a beer and a couple of goat brochettes (staple pub-food) for about £2! As he pointed out – there we were in the middle of November, sitting outside in the open air, in the middle of Africa, drinking beer and eating brochettes. Still slightly odd to think about. Back home people must be gearing up for Christmas, but here there isn’t even a trace of commercialism. I saw one plastic Christmas tree for sale in the Chinese Shop, but other than that – nada. There aren’t even any religious shops selling icons/statues or rosaries, which is odd for a Catholic country when you think how prevalent they are in places like Italy and Greece.

I think I’ve solved the guard issue, too. About whether to feed him or not. I’ve discovered Damascène likes coffee with honey, so I make him the odd cup of that with a couple of biscuits or a peanut butter sandwich of an evening. Problem essentially solved and everybody happy.

See that little hut behind my house? That's where the guard lives.

Foreheading at Church

Heeheehee, what a funny day.

I had a minor but significant triumph! I got my first bus into mumuji all by myself! Huzah! It wasn’t too scary.

There, I met Léon from the office and he took me for breakfast at a local café. It consisted of two plain flour pancakes and a mug of traditional Rwandan milk tea – basically hot milk (usually reconstituted milk powder) with a few heaped teaspoons of sugar in it. Incredibly sweet, and still Léon piled a couple more in (which is normal, apparently). It was nice, but I think an acquired taste. Filled me up though.

After that, we walked across town to a large Baptist Church, next to which is a small Church for the Deaf. Quite a few faces from the office there, but apparently it was a small congregation as it’d been raining, making travel hard. Was a really interesting experience – lots of drumming and clapping, and then two or three people took it in turns to stand up and recite the same story from the bible. The one about Jesus walking on water. I got most of it by the third time, and learned a few Congolese and Ugandan variants on signs.

Augustin, the head of RNAD was there, and I received a big welcome. At the part were new people introduce themselves, I stood up and did so in AKR (Rwandan Sign Language). Was brilliant, people understood me, yippee!

The other nice thing was that I got to do loads of foreheading. It’s a traditional greeting, I think I mentioned before. You touch foreheads on either side, three times, like kissing on the cheek. It’s really beautiful.

So, a very positive experience, though I don’t think my Bible Studies have come along any ;)

After that, Léon walked me to the Trade Centre and I went off up to the internet café that Martine showed me. I spent hours in there updating my blog, replying to e-mails, and uploading photos. The connection was pretty slow and it took the best part of two hours to upload to my Flickr account :( But, still, I had nowhere to be and it was blissful relaxation. I've found e-mails from friends make me insanely happy. I must have been there about four hours and it cost me something like £2.40!

I headed home after that, as I’d arranged to meet my friend Alexis. I met him through a language exchange website a few months before I got out here – the only person offering Kinyarwanda I could find. We’d been e-mailing quite a bit since then. I was looking forward to meeting up with him. We went to a bar just round the corner from where I’m living and had a fantastic night just chatting away. I’m going to devote another post entirely to Alexis’ project because I think it’s brilliant and I would like to help drum-up support for it. But he’s even more lovely in person than via e-mail, and we chatted about so much. He’s one of these nice people you can ask about anything and know that he won’t be offended by you – topics like religion, politics, AIDS, shamanism and, of course, the genocide.

I was surprised to learn that the Hutu/Tutsi divide is still deep rooted, and that some would say the current situation is like the leaves on a tree: aesthetically very pleasing, but no good if the roots are not strong.

It’s really hard being foreign. Well, more to the point, British. I feel so hopelessly awkward asking about these things, even though I really want to know. I call it walking on thin ice, he calls it walking on eggs. Some people I’ve met will turn around and just tell you things. One Deaf lady wrote an introduction to me on a piece of paper saying who she was, where she was from, what she did, and, at the bottom: My father and my mother died in the genocide in 1994. Thank you a lot.  

Another person told me only he and his sister survived out of a very large family. I know another lady who was only a girl. She was raped, probably at knife-point because she has an unusual scar on her neck, and chose to keep the baby. It’s pretty close to the surface but, at the same time, if you didn’t know something had happened, you wouldn’t guess it just from walking around the place. For an outsider, you can’t feel any tension. It’s impossible to tell Hutu from Tutsi. Even Alexis says it could have all been a misconception, one that’s lasted non-the-less. I likened it to standing an Irishman, Scotsman and Welshman next to each other and trying to guess just by looking at them which was which – impossible.

He actually didn’t flinch when I told him I was Pagan. Apparently, during the genocide there was an orphanage out near him with a Swedish woman in charge. The Swedish woman was a Pagan herself! When we were talking about religion and humanity later, he said I sounded a lot like her in my thinking. I was amazed.

One of the things that baffles me at the moment, and a few other people I’ve talked to, is that the entire country is going from francophone to anglophone in rejection of the French, because of their part in the genocide, which was significant. Yet, at the same time, the Catholic Church, whose part was just as great, are accepted with open arms still. How can that be? Priests telling hundreds of men, women and children: "Don’t worry, you can go and shelter in the church, you’ll be safe there," and then turning up a few hours later with a truck load of Interahamwe and a machete in their hands. Priests.

So, yes, that and a few other things baffle me, but I’m new here. I’m allowed to be baffled.

Something that made me laugh: we got talking about AIDS and American aid being conditional on preaching abstinence before condoms. It’s something I only learned in training, and was really annoyed about. You’d expect more common sense really. 

The saying here goes: ABC – Abstain, Be Faithful, Condomise. After our discussion, Alexis said "Ah, for Britain it’s the other way round: CBA?" :op

[NB 2013: If you've been following along, you might have noticed that this is the first post I made where I didn't add the 'GMT + 2' notice at the top. I'm not sure why I originally started doing that, but its absence suggests to me that I finally felt comfortable in my new life. Just fourteen days after arriving in-country, I stopped referring to my home timezone. Whether consciously or otherwise, I'm not sure.]