Juju Bags, Earthquakes & Umupfumus

Oh. My. Gods.

Where to begin?

What a crazy, wonderful, terrifying and unforgettably experience!

Really, where to begin?

I suppose, at the beginning…

Monday afternoon I arrived back at the office with my bags, feeling very apprehensive. I was really worried about where I’d be sleeping, who I’d be going with, and whether I’d get to eat anything.

The whole thing was organised into groups, like the previous research that I’d read about: groups A, B and C. I was in group A with Gerard (Vice Chair), Betty (Interpreter), and another lady, Bernadette, who I didn’t know so well. I’d only met her once, briefly, at Deaf Church.

We hung around for a while getting the final bits sorted out, then there was a mad dash for the 2pm bus to Cyangugu. So much of a rush, and so few bisis, that Gerard went ahead on a moto to secure tickets. We finally got to mumuji with Parfait and a few others who were off to different places. We didn’t have long to wait until our bus was ready for the off.

“So,” I asked Gerard, once we were settled. “How long does it take to get to Cyangugu?”

“Six or seven hours.”

…!?!

Heck, thinks I, realising it’ll be dark by the time we get there.

It was indeed a very long journey, and we were all seated in a line so we couldn’t really sign much to each other without risking neck strain. 

I read my book for most of it. One guy, without asking, grabbed it from my lap and read the back cover - for over five minutes! - then gave it back to me, having closed it and lost my place. Uh, thanks. Books are a total fascination here because people have so very few of them, and anyone who can read likes to show you that they can read by staring at your book, or asking you questions about it. Having said that, just about everyone in the country owns a bible. I’ve already hijacked books from the VSO library to loan to a friend in next door’s office – he’s bored off his trolley sitting there with nawt to do six days a week.

The woman on my right was all elbows – never met so much elbow. She was also a fidget-arse, so every five minutes or so she’d have a good rummage in her bag and jam an elbow against my boob or my ribs, then stretch her legs out over me. I really miss personal space!

But, other than my neighbours, it was a really enjoyable journey. The scenery was breathtaking. We left Kigali and the surrounding agricultural diamond quiltwork that terraces it. I now realise that those are comparatively low hills. 

As the journey wore on, the hills got bigger and bigger, and the arable land gave way to thick, towering forest. Some areas were nice little valleys, strewn with eucalyptus (bizarrely tons of the stuff here), but others were pure jungle. Very impressive. Went past the southern National Parks which are home to the monkeys - shall have to go back and have a look someday.

By the time dusk arrived, the road was thick with mist. We must have been at quite an altitude because the clouds that had topped some of the larger mountains now topped the bus. The road was like a snake - not a straight patch anywhere and, on top of swerving the bends, our driver also expertly manoeuvred some pretty serious potholes.

We finally, six hours later, pulled up at Cyangugu. Although it was dark, I was impressed by how big the place seemed – larger than I was expecting, and also still standing (which I wasn’t sure about after the earthquakes). As we were approaching the city, Gerard tapped me and signed:

“See those lights over there?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Bukavu. The Congo.”

Bukavu is the epicentre of the earthquakes. It is within spitting distance of Cyangugu, separated only by Lake Kivu - a vast expanse of water that runs the entire length of the Rwanda/DRC border.

The DRC across Lake Kivu

I felt a little thrill go up my spine. Although the DRC is currently out of bounds to volunteers, I’ve always wanted to see it. I guess this is close enough for the time being. I can’t deny there’s also something a little enticing about a disaster zone – morbid curiosity, perhaps. But what does an earthquake-devastated town actually look like? Oddly, at first glance, not that devastated.

I also asked: “Isn’t there a refugee camp around here somewhere?”

Gerard pointed out a fork in the road. "Congolese refugees," he signed.

On arrival we met up with Damascene, another guy I met briefly at the church but didn’t really know. We all went to La Petite Colline, a guesthouse nearby. I rented a pretty basic room for FRW 6,000 – a little more than I thought it was worth, but a place to put my head down. Before leaving, Léon dished out my allowance for the project, which included food, drink, transport and accommodation.

I was a little disconcerted to discover that everyone else was staying at Damascene’s. They explained that Ruth (my VSO predecessor) had also stayed at La Petite Colline, so I just accepted that and was quietly pleased that I would have a room all to myself with a bathroom, sit-down toilet, and bar to hand. We then went to a café just next door and had melange, which was a great way to settle in. I still had no real idea what the procedure was, but felt calmer for enjoying the company and the accommodation.

So, contented, I wandered back to my room. It was still quite early, about nine. I was contemplating a beer, but then the biggest storm broke – thunder, lightning, torrential rain - so I tucked myself up in bed with my book: The Mistress of Spices, which I finished. 

I was hoping for a hot shower, but there was only cold water. I also thought about chatting to Mum or Dad, but I had forgotten to bring their numbers, and decided that I probably couldn’t hear them over the rain on the tin roof. Having a thatched roof, you forget these things.

Next morning, I got up quite early. Some horrid woman decided to wash and scrub her patio outside my window at 5am - I could have thrown something! Then a local rooster started off.

I dozed again and got up around 7am – had a bracing, cold shower and pottered. Then, about ten-to nine, some random Deaf guy turned up to tell me that my colleagues wouldn’t be meeting me until mid-day. I thanked him and, after the initial ‘bloody typical’, made my way to the rather lovely covered dining area and ordered tea. Tea came in the form of Rwanda-style hot milk that had been shown a teabag. I decided just to go with it, and heaped in some sugar and a little honey from a plate that had been brought with the bread. 

“Omelette?” the waiter asked. At first I said 'no', as I’d already pigged out on the cake and crackers I’d packed, just in case there was no food. Then I changed my mind and decided that you can never have too much food – who knows when you’re next gonna eat?

I was halfway through this when all of my colleagues turned up. It was about ten-past nine. 

Uhhh… hello…? 

I explained what the young man had told me, but none of them knew who he was, and they assured me that they hadn’t sent him. A little embarrassed, I finished up my food and we started walking to find the local school where Damascene teaches a class of Deaf adults.

We’re walking through Cyangugu. I’m telling Gerard that I really like it – there’s a serious vibe about the place. I like it more than Kigali, it has real character. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I catch this old woman running across the street towards me. She throws something. It hits me. She runs off. A few passers-by laugh in amusement. I look down. At first I fear the worst – human excrement, perhaps – then I brush it off and see that it’s a fine brown powder, and there’s a little cellophane ball of it on the floor by my foot. 

My colleagues all tell me not to worry – “She’s mad,” they say. “She did the same to Ruth.”

I smile, not reassured in the least, but hugely entertained by the whole event. I can’t help it. I turn to Gerard and ask: “Mad from the genocide – trauma?” 

He says: “Maybe, yes."

“Not ‘mad’ meaning 'umupfumu'?”

He frowns and shakes his head – “No, no. Umupfumus are elsewhere. She’s just mad.”

Okay, I accept this and we keep walking. 

Two minutes later we round the corner and there, right in front of us, is the most stunning view of Lake Kivu and a towering volcano. I am overawed. There is something about borders. I felt the same looking at Tanzania from Akagera. Here is the legendary Congo - diamond capital of the world. Deepest, darkest, Central Africa. I ask my colleagues if it’s okay to take pictures. They tell me it’s 'no problem', so I relish the opportunity to slip into tourist mode. I’m in good company as Bernadette is doing the same, it’s her first time too. I’ve already realised that I like Bernadette a lot – she’s dead straightforward, says what she means and doesn’t take any faff.

So, after a gentle stroll in glorious weather, we arrive at this school overlooking the lake. In the end classroom there are about ten Deaf adult students, and two hearing. One of them is the guy who came to my hotel earlier – I’m later told not to believe anything he says, he’s a bit of a joker.

Gerard explains why we’re there and what we’d like to do. We set up a table and chairs outside and call the students one-by-one. We ask them to go through a list of pictures of every-day items, then give us their sign for each one. We record these signs with a digital camera.

This goes on for some time, until the battery runs down. Then Gerard spent about half an hour arguing the case for Rwandan Sign Language with one of the hearing students. This student had seen my white skin and assumed that I was using them in some way to invent a sign language for America… ho hum. 

Gerard managed to explain that sign language is individual to each country, and that it is important for all Deaf people to be able to communicate and get recognition. He also explained that I was not there to take photographs to distribute to other countries. Gerard was a bit frustrated when we left, but I think he turned the student around and opened up her worldview at least a little bit. She looked thoughtful as we took our leave.

Sign Language research at a school in Cyangugu.

We went back to my hotel to charge the camera, then had a coke at the café before my colleagues went off to do other things. 

I ended up talking to the proprietor of the hotel and his wife. He’s a Brigadier in the army, on the Tanzanian boarder. He came home to check on his family after the earthquakes. Really nice guy. He's originally from Uganda, so his English was very good. Ironically, whilst we were sitting there, I was sure that I felt a very small tremor. He was on the phone at the time. I never asked. Instead, I simply shrugged it off as my imagination, given where we were.

He took me on a tour of the place. It was much bigger than I’d realised, with this amazing sloping tunnel of vines going down to luxury suites. There were secluded sitting areas then, at the bottom, a really grand terrace and balcony overlooking Lake Kivu. At the very bottom you could get down to the main road and walk to the shore, but it was a bit far for the time I had free.

I met up again with my colleagues around 2pm, once the battery had charge enough. One of the women from the school had invited us to her home in Ntura, a little village about half an hour’s bisi ride out of Cyangugu. She invited us to meet her family and friends, and video some more clips.

On the way to the bus stop, Damascene was pointing out the damage from the earthquakes. He explained that at the end of the road where my hotel was, three people had been crushed to death when the façade fell off a building.

At first glance, things don’t look so bad. Then you realise that every second building has these huge cracks through them. Bits of plaster are missing, and there are small heaps of rubble piled up next to them. 

I think I was expecting the place to be flattened. I was impressed that so much was upright and functioning. Though the infamous church which had collapsed on its congregation was apparently just the other side of my hotel.

We found the right bisi and alighted in the middle of nowhere. We were surrounded by the most beautiful rolling green tea fields. I’d never seen tea growing before, and expected it to be a lot taller than it was.

We had a really good time researching at this lady's home and meeting her family. Her eldest sister is hearing, but she has two other Deaf siblings, though they weren’t there at the time. Her Deaf neighbour came over to sign for us, too. It was really interesting.

I also met her nephew, Rohini, who is the youngest of five children belonging to her eldest sister. Her sister was pregnant with him when the genocide happened, and her husband (his father) was killed just before he was born, so never met him. Extremely sad story. She showed me photographs of their wedding.

Rohini

Walking to Ntura

Tea Fields

Research at Ntura
(click to enlarge)

As we were leaving, I was taken over to another neighbour’s house. I was left open-mouthed at what I saw. The family had been asleep in bed when the earthquake hit. This is what happened to their home:

They are desperately poor and there’s really very little help available to them. They were sleeping in the wooden hut at the bottom of their garden. For the first time, I dug into my pockets and gave FRW 5,000 – not enough to rebuild the house, but enough to help them eat for a while. They were extremely kind in letting me take photographs, and even posed for one. I wish there was more I could have done for them. It’s a desperate situation.

We returned to Cyangugu by dark, and decided to end the day with a well earned beer at the local bar. It was a really good night, and Gerard persuaded me to crack on with the waragi. We covered everything from 'learning to swim' and 'Deaf v. disability', to 'current affairs' and, yes, I couldn’t resist…

“So, that bag the woman threw at me. What was in it? Graveyard dust?”

He laughed. “No, just tea.”

That actually made sense. It seemed a familiar texture. I looked slightly disappointed. “But she’s definitely not an umupfumu?”

“Look,” Gerard was getting a little exasperated. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Well.”

“Right. You’re eating, you’re sleeping, you’re healthy – she wasn’t an umupfumu. An umupfumu wouldn’t come running at you in the street, you’d just find something in your bag or on your clothes. You wouldn’t see an umupfumu. She was just mad.”

"Okay." I give in gracefully. But still, I’m really intrigued by the way he put this – implying that umupfumus have a lot of power. Gerard used to work for a missionary in the area. I guess I thought he’d just laugh it off and sign something like: ‘don’t believe such silly stuff.’

Earlier, I had asked him if there were umupfumus in Kigali. He nodded and signed: "yes, but their power is weaker. Here it is strong."

I was rather tipsy when I said goodnight to everyone and stumbled back to the guesthouse. It was only about 9pm, so I reasoned that I would get tons of sleep befor morning. We had decided to go back to Kigali via somewhere else, in order to visit some more Deaf signers on the way. I had a good, drunken natter to Dad before bed – having had too much of a whacky and wonderful time not to share.

So, I slept.

At 4am I woke up. I was dimly aware of a dog barking somewhere. Dogs barking in the early hours… why’s that familliar-

Holy sh!t. Almost literally. I fully admit it, I was terrified.

It wasn’t a big quake, but it was big enough. There was a quality to it unlike those of Kigali, compounded by an almost stifling knowledge of where I was. It was very brief - so brief that I hadn’t worked out what to do in my mind yet. I couldn’t think of anything to do, so I just kept glancing at the ceiling, praying the building would hold. 

It was a savage shake, rather than the watery wobble up north. I remembered writing about the first time as being almost pleasant. This was just terrifying. All I kept thinking was I’m naked! (yes readers, I tend to sleep in the nuddie – not a fan of PJs or nighties) – I just kept thinking: ‘what if they dig me out of this and I haven’t got any clothes on? Will they wrap me in my blanket so I don’t stand in the street with nothing on?’

Seriously, this is what went through my mind.

The second it was over, my immediate thought was to get some clothes on and sleep fully dressed in case it happened again. Only, I didn’t move from my bed. I just lay there holding the pillow thinking: sh!t. In Kigali I easily thought I’d imagined them, but this was undeniable. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind whatsoever that this one had just happened.

However, I didn’t reckon on the damage it had caused. The quake was very brief. I thought: ‘the world’s still standing’. I heard people outside walking about and talking in Kinya, but remained where I was. I didn’t want to get out of bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I lay there with my mind racing until about 6am, then dozed and had crazy dreams until my alarm went at 6:40.

I got up very, very groggy. Barely had any sleep, but an earthquake sure does wake you sober. I had a cold shower again and waited for my colleagues to collect me at around seven. As I waited, I noticed people sweeping up rubble around the market, but I couldn’t see anything that had fallen down. 

My colleagues and I were all signing about the quake, except for Gerard, who had drunk so much waragi he had slept through the entire thing!!!

As we walked to the bus stop, Damascene pointed to a hotel across the street. I looked up and saw that the roof was covered with tarpaulin. 

“Is that new?” I signed in disbelief. 

“Yep, last night.” 

I was gobsmacked. The whole top side had collapsed. As we drove out of the town, I noticed that all of the cracks that had been there before were now much bigger. Larger chunks of plaster and wall had fallen away. People were still walking around conducting business as usual in structurally devastated buildings. All I can think is that next time (and there’s bound to be one soon) more houses will fall, and more people will die. The place is a time bomb. I asked Damascene if he would consider moving, but he replied: 'no', and so far his home is okay. He joked later, as we left the town, that he was 'going home to see if his house was still standing.'

Unbelievable.

We arrived at another lady’s home about mid-day, after a police stop (driver fined FRW 20,000 for overcrowding the bus) and stalling on a hill – for which the conductor had to lean down between my legs (most undignified) to find the choke.

We eventually got there, though, and had a good time. We met two Deaf sisters - one signs, the other is oral. We also met their hearing mother, sister, her little boy and baby. She’d just lost her dad the week before, so it was a sad time. We have been invited to the memorial service next month. 

We videod some signs until the memory card filled up. Batteries and memory are in short supply I’ve noticed – could have done with a spare of each.  We stayed for a drink, then hung around almost to panic-point as there were no bisis going back to the main road. Eventually, we got one. Then we had to hang around for ages at the main road, waiting for the Impala bus home to Kigali. We signed to each other whilst we waited, and a whole crowd of people penned us in - staring at these weird Deaf creatures and this muzungu amongst them!

I stunned them by turning to say ‘hello’ and ask how everyone was in Kinya. They backed off a little after that, but it was so ‘village’ as Betty puts it. Really was like The Birds, only humans. Another very strange spectacle occurred as we stood there – five muzungus on bicycles went past! All middle-aged men in tight lycra. Caused much talk and hilarity.

We bought fruit and ate rations whilst we waited. I was glad that I didn’t eat too much as the driver of the bus home was an absolute sadist! Speeding like a lunatic around these hairpin bends. I seriously thought I was going to puke – horrific motion sickness. We were right at the back – managed to get seats in a line.

However, funny coincidence: there were two obstinate, cackling, middle-aged women sitting in the row in front of us. Both were dressed in blue – one very, very thin, with prominent cheek bones, the other plump and round with a cough. They weren’t best pleased with us because Gerard had told the thin one to move as she was sitting in our seats. They cackled like geese when we dared to shout to the driver to slow down (having seen a couple of overturned buses by the roadside and thinking we could easily be the next).

I could tell that Gerard wasn’t too keen on them, and I asked why.

“Umupfumu,” he signed.

I laughed and said: “How do you know?”

“She looks like one.”

“Do all umupfumu look the same?”

“Yes.”

I think he meant there’s a certain ‘something’ about them – rather than they all look identical. I asked Bernadette if she thought he was right, and she emphatically signed: "yes".

So, finally, I was sitting next to two real-life umupfumus – and I didn’t like them one bit. I don’t think they thought much of a muzungu, either. But I told Gerard that we needn’t have worried about the safety of the bus. With two umupfumus on board, it was bound to be safe.

It was just a really weird couple of days. Absolutely fantastic – although I could have done without the bus ride back; seriously felt unwell. Got a brilliant moto home – he raced another one and I just flipped up my visor and took in the air that had been stifled out of the bus. It was exactly what I needed, though not easy balancing a lead-weight backpack on one of those things. I could also have done without the earthquake, but a perverse little part of me is kind of glad that I experienced it. I’d been thinking since the Kigali quakes: 'How bad can it be?' Now I know that, actually, it’s bloody scary - even a little one. Test complete, wouldn’t want to try it again.

Cyangugu

Argh. Got a text late yesterday evening telling me to go to Cyangugu today in the far South-West. To be specific, it said: 'Be at the office tomorrow morning (no time given) to go to Cyangugu (no duration given) to do research.'

So much for my planning preparation workshop. Also annoyingly short notice. I had a mad panic to get my spare keys to the office, so Jo can mind the cats, plus my guard is supposed to be paid tonight. Also had a Disability meeting on Friday that I wanted to attend.

So, texted Léon to try and find out some details. He said: be at office 9am - I assumed (making an ass out of U and of ME) that meant a planning meeting to discuss the trip. No. I paid FRW 500 to get there for naff all, only to be told a few of them had vaguely discussed it at 8am. There is no meeting, be back at the office with my bags for 12pm.

I hate wasting money on pointless journeys.

So, I went to VSO to drop off my keys for Jo. I ended up talking to Hannah for ages. She's frustrated to tears with her placement. She keeps being told to turn up to meeting on weekends that never happen, then gets completely ignored by her colleagues when they do.

Oh, well. Made me feel better at least.

So, I'm just doing a mad pack. Off to Cyangugu for four days, apparently. Should certainly be interesting. I'm curious to see the place but dreading what the accommodation might be like. I have images of a mud bed next to a pit latrine. I'm taking enough cash to book myself into a guest house if needed - if there's one still standing after the earthquakes. It's incredibly close to the epicentre, so let's hope there's no more tremors whilst I'm down there.

Wish me luck. I'll blog again when I get back.

Happy Birthday To Me

SoleLuna

Phew.

Just recovering!

Well, I have to say it didn't quite start out as the best birthday ever. I was really ill most of the week and slept Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday (my actual birthday) and most of Thursday.

I e-mailed Paula mid-week to say I was thinking about postponing the weekend because I didn't think I'd be up for it. She'd also sprained her ankle in mumuji on her way back to Gahini.

By Thursday morning I was feeling quite a bit better, though. I decided that it would probably do me some good to get out of the house, and definitely to have something to eat. I hadn't eaten much during my period in isolation. Paula had left me a lovely wood carved birthday gorilla on the spare bed pillow... didn't eat it :)

Bruce came to stay on the Friday night as he had a meeting at VSO. This was really nice. He brought me banana loaf and pecan cake from UTC - very luxurious! He couldn't stay for the Saturday bash, but really wanted to see SoleLuna, so I took him and ate fish - something light for my tummy. Also had a small beer. Felt pretty good. I gave him my bed as he's incredibly tall. Also, because I wanted to finally test out my spare bed and see what it was like. It's hard! Paula could sleep on anything. Might consider another mattress for it.

Paula and Martine had both texted to ask whether the do was still on. I'd replied saying yes, but it seems the network went down as not one of the texts I sent to Bruce, Jo, Martine or Paula got through that day. I was really p!ssed off because I'd spent a fortune texting. Because they didn't hear back, they assumed it was a no and were both in Gahini for the weekend. On top of that, two schools in different districs organised teacher training courses, so pretty much all of the Education vols were off to those.

I was a bit worried come Saturday that no one would turn up. I'd bought a box of wine (£25 - my guard's entire monthly salary), waragi, soft drinks and loads of party snacks. Marisa had already arranged to come and stay with me on the Saturday night. She turned up around 5pm. I'd said 5pm for drinks at mine, then SoleLuna from about 7pm.

We sat around and chatted. I wasn't feeling too confident. Then Jo turned up with her fiancé Pierre and her uni friend Dirk (Dutch), who is out working for some government department. About half an hour later, Sue and Eric came with two new volunteers: Els and Alicia (British and Australian respectively), and two Rwandese friends: Claver and François. Then Ally, my Scottish lawyer friend from the plane, turned up. So, about 12 of us had a really good drinking sesh at the house then went for chow, where we met up with another volunteer who left VSO before I arrived and now works for Handicap International. She was also celebrating her birthday and Joanne & Morley were there. It was a most excellent night indeed. Everyone had a really good time, then came back to mine for more drinks. It was brilliant to have such a mix of people with different backgrounds, not just a VSO crowd. New friendships have been formed and there was a lot of laughter, which is always good. I got the whole 'happy birthday' embarrassing song thing and a candle on my pizza.

Really was good, and I hadn't seen Ally since carols at the Ambassador’s. It is really cool just to catch up with life outside VSO.

This morning Marisa bought a giant papaya and we breakfasted on that and the best chocolate biscuits in the world then headed down to Nyarutarama pool (this time I remembered the way!) and went for a luxurious dip. We stayed for lunch there. Felt like I was on holiday - glorious weather, too. Meandered back and she's just doing some shopping before heading home. Been a fabby weekend, but I'm utterly knackered now. Eaten so much! Feeling worlds better. Hope this week doesn't get too hectic.



[NB 2013: Oops. One more special post. The lady sharing her birthday with me is Lies, who you'll hear lots more about shortly. She lives in Belgium now with her family. It's traditional for Cathryn and I to drive over once a year to see them.]

Clinically Yuck

Polyclinique de Plateau

Blah,

Horrible day. Woke around four in the morning with horrible stomach cramp. Went to the loo, where I evacuated quite decidedly in both directions. Went back to bed to shiver for a while and feel sorry for myself. The exact same thing happened the night of the first earthquake, at 2am. I thought it had just been a one-off and the next day I woke feeling fine. This time I didn't wake feeling fine. Sent a text to Martine to ask if the Polyclinic was open on a Sunday. She said yes, and she'd meet me there.

I eventually got washed and dressed and hooked a moto, but the guy didn't know where he was going and ended up dropping me by BCR bank. I tried to stop a couple of women and ask (tried English, French and Kinya) but they just walked past me. Then I asked a guard by BCR. He didn't know, so asked someone else, who eventually gave me directions. I was in such a state by this point that, when I finally walked to the clinic, I just burst into tears on Martine.

She took me in and we were seen right away and taken into a private room with en suite. It was impressive. It's one of the best clinics in Kigali. VSO are generally really good about medical things.

They took a blood sample, then put me on a drip to rehydrate me and added something for the stomach pain. I felt like I'd swallowed glass. It was an incredibly slow drip. I was there for about six hours and felt terrible. Martine stayed with me the whole time and Paula popped in to see me before her bus left. I slept a little. Martine and I just chatted, so the time didn't go too slow.

Eventually they discharged me with some strong antibiotics and a sick note for tomorrow. They said my white blood count was up and they suspected food poisoning, possibly parasites (nice), so I'll go back Tuesday if I'm still ill. I felt really bad in the taxi back - stomach is really sore and haven't eaten anything much today. Martine brought me some bread and biscuits, but I wasn't hungry. I just don't feel like food yet.

Martine offered a bed at hers, but I recover better in my own home. I wanted to get back to my babies. I accidentally trapped Shu's (Ishuheri's) paw in the door this morning. They're at the age where they want to go out, but they're still too little, so whenever you approach the door they rush it. I was worried I'd really damaged him, but he's absolutely fine and we've all been having big cuddles tonight. They're mental play kittens.

Happy to be home, but still feeling a bit rank. I'll see how I am tomorrow. Either I've picked something up again or it's an infection that never fully went away. See what happens. Last time I started taking my doxy (anti-malarials) again, as they’re antibiotics, and I really think that helped clear it up. Now that I'm on other pills, I won't take my doxy yet. Maybe I didn’t take it for long enough, who knows? Really should make an effort to take them long-term again, though. Everyone who does seems to have really good health as it protects against tummy troubles.

Off to bed in a mo. Could really use some kip, I'm shattered. Will update soon.

Cow Dancing

Intore

Had a brilliant night last night. It was the end of the new volunteers' in-country training (ICT) so we were all invited to a huge 'VSO Family Dinner' at Lunar Dor, a restaurant not too far away from here. It's near Hotel Amani, where the training takes place.

It was brilliant as almost all the vols from across the country were there - really cool. Chris, another guy I was at Harborne with, was there. Free wine, beer and a meal, whilst the Intore and traditional dancers of Rwanda performed for us. It’s called 'cow dancing'. Both women and men dancing, really beautiful - all with bells around their ankles. One of the women who works in the VSO office, her sister was dancing.

After the meal most of us headed on to One Love for dancing and much, much drinking. One Love is the coolest place on the entire planet. Ended up with a bunch of Rastas who kept plying us with Johnnie Walker Red Label. Paula and I had already split a bottle of waragi. She'd skipped the dinner to go to a concert where her Rwandese friend was playing. She had a great time and met up with us at One Love - stayed at mine for the night. I received a guided tour of the upstairs art area, where one of the guys sells Congolese furniture and masks - totally amazing and slightly creepy art.

So, we rolled home around two and had a bread and tea party before bed.

I was totally shattered, though Paula had drunk more than me. I woke about 9am and stumbled into the main room where she was just coming in! She'd woken at 5:30am, gone to Novotel for a swim, and returned with fresh-baked croissants!!! I was dumbfounded.

We went into VSO for a volunteer meeting at 11am to discuss an education project in Gihembe Refugee Camp, but came away feeling a bit unenthusiastic. Martine was there, too. It was completely non-inclusive of Disability, or most people's ideas. Bit didactic for my liking. Interesting to get the information so those of us in the Disability sector can consider a project for the future.

To cool down after, a few of us went to Karibu ('Welcome'), a café in town, for melange and a natter. It was fun. Then I came back home to meet Sue and Eric, who had picked up my phone the night before, when I left the bar at the VSO party (phew!) Paula went to do some things in town, then came back to pick up her bags.

I cleaned up the house, which sorely needed it. The kittens are utter monsters! But beautiful ones :) Sula jumped in my wash bucket tonight and left a long train of water through the house lol She was a funny sight.

Earthquake V

I was woken at 4am by another earthquake. Thought I was dreaming. Heard a dog going mental somewhere and then my friend, Paula in Gahini, texted to confirm.

Felt a lot like the last two, so reckon it's probably been quite severe and hit the same area.

It's just gone 5am now, so I'm about to go back to bed. Had an e-mail through the other day from VSO entitled: Earthquake Planning and Preparing with a link to some information. Not overly helpful, but thankfully in Kigali I don't think we'll have to use it.

Sula & Co. - Meet the Family

Ahem,

I am proud to introduce... my family

I had to put off collection because I had a stinking cold over the weekend and resigned myself to my bed. Then, I went for one kitty - came home with three!

Jo was secretly hoping I'd take two (she had four) - but I'm afraid it was a difficult decision. The two she hoped I'd take - which I have - are Sula and her grey brother. They're such good playmates. Very alike.

Then, there was a very special little boy. It was impossible to refuse. He's white with a grey tiger-striped tail. He's earned the nickname 'Climber' - he sees you, he climbs you. He loves to be loved, whereas the other two are already very independent.

The last white one stayed behind. I couldn't cope with four. I'm not sure three was a grand idea lol Number four was just a little behind the rest and not quite ready to leave the nest.

I'm still wondering whether I lost my marbles somewhere along the way, but they are utterly gorgeous. The two boy ones haven't got names yet, but maybe Ishuheri (Wind Storm) for the grey one - maybe not, though.

Their mama's called Umweru (White) and their uncle is Kabibi (Smudge). I'll give it a few days and see.

So far they seem very happy. No pining. Helps having them all together, I think. It's still sinking in...

I felt awful earlier - the power went out for hours and I was navigating the kitchen by oil lamp. I turned and accidentally kicked the grey one across the kitchen! I couldn't see him in the dark and wasn't expecting anyone to be there!

He was quite upset by the experience and hissed me when I went to say sorry. He's since forgiven me, though. I took him into the pantry, gave him a mouthful of fresh fish, and we said no more about it lol Seems to be forgotten. It's going to take a while to get used to having them around.

As for toilet training, Jo sent me home with a big bag of sawdust. Nay bother, they came in and knew exactly what the tray was for! What a relief.

They're just over six weeks old now. Jo was a little worried that the white one wouldn't feed. Both the whites were a little behind the other two, but he was first out of the carry-case and has wolfed down both fresh fish and dried. The other two sit politely by, nibbling from the bowl - he just wades straight into it :) He doesn't seem to like milk, but the other two do.

Fresh fish will only be a treat for them as it's expensive and I have no fridge. However, you buy buckets of dried fish which will hopefully go down okay. I've been warned not to give them too much milk as it can upset their tummies. You can only get UHT stuff here, not fresh. They seem happy enough, though. Apparently they also love avocado!!! I picked a few from the garden today. When they ripen I'll see'f that's true.

Poor Jo - she knew she had to let them go, but she's been texting all evening lol She's more upset than their mother!

So, yes. I have a family. They’re cute and kind of fluffy, and I'm everso slightly allergic to them, but I think that'll wear off

Actually, I made an interesting discovery of my own today. I thought I’d bought two tins of tuna for them, but I opened one and discovered it’s ‘Cheddar Cheese’!!! In a tin!!! I looked at it in disgust for a while but then, as you do, I put it on a biscuit and ate it – it’s not half bad. Bit like rubber, but edible. Not Cheddar, though.

Anyhoo. They’re gorgeous :)

No More Pigs or Goats Please!

Goat

 

Just had a great day. Went to the Disability PAC (Partnership Committee) meeting at Novotel, a swanky hotel in town which most Disability vols don't go to. Jo managed to wangle me in lol

It was good fun actually, and really useful. It's a quarterly meeting to discuss small grants applications from local groups known to our partner organisations. It's only for a maximum of £2,000 (FRW 2mil) but quite popular as that money can go a long way. We meet and split into two groups (this time anglophone and francophone) and go through the merits of each application against a criteria grid. Then we come together at the end to see'f we agree, and argue if we don't.

I really enjoyed myself because I've spent so bloomin' long writing sodding application forms it was really nice to be on the other side of the table; to see what sort of projects people were applying for, how well the forms were put together, and how the decisions were made.

Originally, no one from my organisation was going to be able to make it. Then Augustin managed to get in for the first half.

Dinner was outstanding and one of the reasons I went lol I haven't eaten like that in all my time here. It was a melange, but vast, with tons of options including a whole table full of salad and vegetables. The desserts were scrummy. I went three times - for a salad round, main course, and pudding. Could barely move back to the meeting room!

After we'd done the funding forms we had a discussion on a few additional things like the recent ministerial decree that is causing a lot of panic. Essentially, just about the same time I arrived, a new National Disability Committee was set up with elected representatives in the five areas of Disability: Deaf, Blind, Physical, Mental and 'other'. It's causing a few problems. Our organisation didn't turn up to be elected because they say they didn't know about it. Two other groups are also in this situation. However, a member from the Deaf Women's Association did turn up and was elected. The Women's Association and RNAD don't get on at all. The Women's interpreter refuses to interpret for our lot at events, and they won't work on joint projects with us. This also means that, technically, RNAD isn't officially the representative group of Deaf people in Rwanda - the Women's Deaf Association is. Even though the Committee of RNAD was voted in by its members.... 

Don't ask.

Anyway, worse than this, a new ministerial decree has just announced that the new national Committee is in place and that all organisations representing disabled people who existed before this Committee must now be 'dissolved'.

Hmmmmm.

So, few confused and distressed faces in the room. Including VSO's, as they've ploughed a lot of money into all of these organisations. This needs to get ironed out.

This was discussed for a while, along with some accessibility issues and so forth. It was good and useful. I feel like I've really been involved in something today. Only, we're all a bit bored of goats and pigs - every second project was an income generating scheme to breed them lol Some were well thought out, some were completely ridiculous. One proposal asking FRW 31mil to plant crops!!! lol