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