My House :)

[GMT +2 Rwandan time]

Washed my hair this morning. The system is to fill the big tub under the shower with cold water from the shower tap. I washed my face first, then bent my head over it and did my hair, then went down my body and put the dirty water in the toilet cistern to flush it. You don’t waste water here.

Hopefully I’m moving into my new home today – will be really nice to finally unpack.

*

8:00pm Rwandan time

What. A. Day.

I have a house :op

It’s unique in Kigali.

It has a wooden thatched roof with two bed knobs on, and the door has two carved posts... I’ll try and take a picture. I can’t quite believe it. I have no bedding yet but... let me start from the beginning.

Martine went to work before I got up this morning, so I just relaxed and waited for someone from VSO to come and collect me, which he did at about 10:00am. His name’s Bosco, and he’s a total star. He helps all the new volunteers sort out their bank accounts, houses etc., whilst at the same time studying to be a lawyer in the evening. He's graduating next year, looking to specialise in verbal Contract Law/'Obligation Law'. He only started at VSO five weeks ago, so is pretty new too, but has been working for other aid agencies like DFID before that. He also studied law in the Congo. I was saying how much I wish they’d stop fighting there, so I could go and have a look. Maybe just call a day truce or something ;) Apparently the Congo river is indeed very beautiful.

He dropped me off at VSO, where I had another tour of the offices and met the Director, Alex, who was at the meal. He was really welcoming and explained some of the pluses and challenges of working here. I also had a really good chat with Amanda about my specific placement. RNAD has unfortunately been through a bit of a rough time, re-forming last March. Deaf politics to rival anything you could dream up in the UK, all based on the personality problems most NGOs face from time to time. The important thing to remember is that the current group are seriously committed and enthusiastic, and also apparently delighted to have me.

Really hope I don’t disappoint in that respect, but nice to feel wanted :)

Had lunch at VSO: rice, beans and cassava, which was new to me. It’s the consistency of really thick Play-Doh, made from maize starch or something similar. Doesn’t taste of much, but bulks out a meal really well and is yummy with beans. Quite a traditional meal, I think. Certainly fills you up.

Next, Bosco dropped me off at the British Embassy to register myself, and took Michelle (Administrator) on to immigration to put my passport into the visa system. Whilst I was waiting outside for them to come back and collect me, I got talking to one of the guards. Most guards and police here are ex-RPF, and incredibly well trained and disciplined. I suppose, when you consider what they did, they had to be. Hence Rwanda is generally considered the safest country in East Africa, possibly the continent. He was letting me practice my Kinyarwanda. I asked if there were many British people in Kigali. He said there were, and Americans. "Not so many French?" I joked, and he laughed ;)

The French Cultural Centre and schools have all closed recently. Relations between Rwanda and France have gone from bad to worse since France took quite an active role in the genocide. It’s quite hard for French volunteers here as, if they tell people they are French, they can get a frosty reception. Which is a shame, because it’s not their fault.

Anyway. After all that, we dropped Michelle off, and Bosco took me to open my bank account. The process is like watching paint dry, but eventually we managed it. He also took me on a tour and pointed out things like the parliament, courts, President’s house, Belgium Embassy (where our doctor is), clinic etc. We also passed the Mille Collines, or ‘Hotel Rwanda’ as many would know it as. It’s a five-star hotel in the middle of Kigali, right opposite the UN, where the Hotel Manager, Paul Rusesabagina, sheltered and saved the lives of many Tutsis during the genocide. It’s open for business again now, and you can go and relax in the café, or take a dip in the pool - which people were reduced to drinking from. I will go one day just to see the building.

That evening, I moved into my new home. I don’t think I can describe it, so will need to take some photos. There’s no other quite like it. At least I won’t forget where I live. The roof is a high wood-thatched structure. The whole thing is oval, so rooms are a very funny shape. The gate is bright yellow, and I have a guard who lives in a hut in my garden! He’s amazing. My gate is padlocked but, if I so much as go near it, he appears instantly and opens it for me. Then, again, when I come back. I barely have time to knock and there he is! Very strange indeed. It’s nice he’s got his own hut, though.  Martine’s guard had a room attached to the house and it felt a bit intimate. I also don’t feel bad about playing music late at night.

Amanda walked me down here last night. Soon after she left, I popped out to the shops to get a few basics like cups, bread, butter, peanut butter (like cheese, they make amazing peanut butter) and toilet paper. I bought a giant plastic tub, like the one Martine has, and carried it all back on my hip. I went back via the garage to get kerosene for my stove, but forgot to take a container with me. On the way there, two local kids attached themselves to me, telling me they were hungry and asking for money. VSO training kicked in and I just kept saying ‘oya, oya’ (no, no) because, if you start, for the next two years I will be swamped with requests. Scepticism also kicks in. Even adults will sometimes hone in on muzungus just to see what they can get. They view us as wealthy with money to burn and, mostly, they’re right. Not that people here aren’t often very poor, but things aren’t always exactly what they seem.

Anyway, when I realised that I hadn’t got anything to carry the kerosene in, I was crest-fallen. The one kid that had hung around said something and dashed off. About ten minutes later I was still standing there. Another guy came up and explained again that I’d need something to carry the kerosene in, and would I like to give him some money to go get something for me? To which I replied "I think the kid’s gone to get something." He looked really sceptical and shook his head. At about the same time, the young lad appeared with an empty plastic can in his hand! It was an old one he must have found somewhere. When he gave it to me I asked "nangahe?" (how much?). The boy didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t expecting that. I reached into my tub and gave him a can of coke, at which point a group of men standing nearby burst into appreciative laughter.

I gave the plastic can to someone else to fill up. I don’t know whether it was because of that or not, but the quote of 1,750 for the kerosene turned out to cost me only 1,300.

Anyway, came back and chatted to Dad on the phone for ages. Drank rather a lot of warangi and coke. Off to bed now.