Missing Water (and a Heap of Other Things)

Need a holiday. Need holiday now. Scrap everything I said before about being content!

Ugh. Weekend was a bit of a write-off. Internet went on the blink Friday, so no net access, which was pants as it meant I couldn't access any of my e-mails with info in them like when to meet that lady at Chez Lando. It was umuganda - which essentially means 'day when bugger-all gets done' - community service for the masses. I thought she'd said 2pm, after the buses and everything get going again, but she'd said 12pm, so she waited an hour for me at the right time, and I waited an hour for her at the wrong time. Oh well, chips and a beer, not all bad. Felt a bit of a plonker when I finally got access again at VSO. We're re-arranging, no harm done.

To continue the theme of work and weekend, on Sunday my colleague started nuisance calling me late afternoon to come into the office and deliver the T-shirts I'd taken to sell at the Disability meeting. I was fuming as I was in the middle of half a dozen weekend things and not about to go into the office. Words like 'forward' and 'planning' sprung to mind. Eventually Léon came to pick them up at half-seven at night! I was on the phone to my family - really annoyed me. He said something about them all going to Cyangugu for a couple of days but it came out in the traditional Rwandan broken-English of 'we go to Cyangugu tomorrow' - uh, no, we don't, I've got a meeting at 10am. But it meant 'we' being those already going. At half-seven on a Sunday evening I don't really care to be honest. I was all out of VSO spirit.

The lack of internet was just topped by the lack of water. I am now officially out of clothes. Rwanda's complete inability to make water work really annoys me. My water, specifically. It's been off so long now that all of my clothes smell bad. It makes me more angry that it's been torrentially raining all week. How can rain = no water? I leave the taps permanently on now just in case.

The rain made me late getting into the office today, but I still sat around for well over an hour before the women turned up for the meeting about JAM. It was really productive when it finally did happen. I also put up posters and spread the word for Karen & Antonia's parent and toddler groups, funded by the International Deaf Children's Society. They want strong Deaf role models to go in and meet the parents. I'm trying to drum together some support. I knocked out a draft timetable for the five week IT training, and printed the final copy of the American D&HR proposal for signing. Then I sat around colouring-in with my twelve-year-old friend who sometimes pops in to keep me company. He was at the JAM sports day the other week.

Got a lot achieved really. Then the Chair of my organisation came in mid-afternoon in a tiz. He had a proposal for the EU Human Rights Fund. Originally, I advised him this was a bad idea. Firstly because EU money requires 20% match funding; on a minimum of €80,000 that's €16,000 of shiny coins we don't have to bring to the table. More of a concern, however, are the EU reporting procedures, catches, clauses and chain-tight checking systems. Even VSO said it made them uneasy. What would an ant adrift organisation like ours do other than get into trouble in strong currents? 

Really, even in the UK you draft in specialists for EU money; for claiming it, managing it and reporting on it. Sometimes money, even with the best above-board intentions, gets you into trouble - which is why I ran with the American Embassy's smaller fund instead. Start small, work your way up to big bucks when you know you have the systems in place to manage it. At the moment we can't even get our quarterly VSO reports into shape, the EU would eat us alive and ask for pudding.

But, hey ho, they went ahead and drafted in some help writing it. Unbelievably, they have been assured by the EU that if the project floats, the match funding is negotiable - even optional! Contrary to what was suggested at the information day they held earlier last month.

Hats off to Augustin for going for it. It will take a lot of organisation to get this in and make the enquiries. I have to admit to being curious to see where it goes. These guys are nothing if not motivated.

So, he bundled me onto a moto across town to the EU Commission to stand in a line of 20-odd representatives from many organisations, all delivering their proposals thirty minutes before the final deadline. It was interesting. I was discriminated against for being an English speaker. The forms were all in French. When I asked for English, I was told there weren't any. I said 'There should be, this is the EU,' to which the guards laughed and thankfully filled out my form for me, returning with a receipt 20 minutes later. Ho hum. I texted Jo after, telling her my suspicions were confirmed - Britain was never part of Europe.

Afterwards, I decided to cheer myself up with a jaunt to MTN to get my internet connection fixed. I wasn't hopeful. After sitting in 'Business Solutions' being ignored for half an hour, I was gearing up for indignant rant mode when a guy sitting next to me pointed out that I was next to be served. That never happens! A queueing system in Rwanda!? Praise the day. Then the woman did something fiddly which resulted, intentionally or not, in me gaining two months of free internet access! I was almost too stunned to walk out.

Since then, I’ve been at home rekindling my love affair with the internet and scowling at my dried-up taps. D said last night that he’s had enough of Kampala and was going to try and get back today. I’m all out of phone credit, as is he, so don’t know if he managed it. I think it’s more sensible to take the morning bus tomorrow, but he may be back some time early morning or late tomorrow. Or maybe even Wednesday... who knows. It’ll be a nice surprise lol

Kampala Capers

It’s been a long week. D went up to Kampala on the Tuesday. He called around twelve hours later to say he got there. You can imagine my surprise when I went into the office the next day and found E still there! Apparently his out-bound papers had expired, so he’d had to go to the Ugandan Embassy and get a temporary pass. Okay, no worries.

I was a little less impressed the next day when he was still there, knowing that D couldn’t come back until E was sorted. This time it was something his mum needed doing. He promised he’d be going the next morning – Friday.

Friday was a looooong day. I was up at 6:30 and at a meeting across town for 8:30. A meeting that was supposed to start on time and finish two hours later - at 10:30 - so that I could get back across town for my next meeting. As it turned out, no one turned up until gone half-nine, then the PowerPoint projector didn’t work. We faffed around for another hour and started the meeting around the time it was supposed to finish.

Léon, Francois and myself were there, so my job was interpreting, which I don’t relish but even less so when it’s not an English meeting. It was mainly Kinya and French. I had an English interpreter so that I could interpret into sign. This never, ever works. Especially not when, halfway through, your English interpreter leaves the room to take a phone call.

It was a meeting on Effective Financial Reporting. I just had to stop, it was like explaining algebra. Francois had never seen the forms, I had never seen the forms, and the English translation was painful at best – lots of vagaries like ‘then you put the 2,500 into column D and the balance of that into the other column’ – which other column!? Give me an A, give me a D, give me a C or something, but when I can’t see the form, don’t tell me ‘other column’ – there are many other columns. 

To be fair, Francois isn’t responsible for reporting, Léon is. I was just happy he made it. Our reporting could stand a little improvement. I'm determined to deliver Interpreter Awareness Training to VSO. There is absolutely no respect for interpreters, they never get to finish what they’re saying, everyone always talks over each other, and anyone reliant on an interpreter is lucky to understand half the proceedings yet alone contribute to them.

Quad-lingual meetings don’t work! Not without a FRW 250,000 a day interpreting company and headsets. Then they work. Just.

Eventually, Francois and I crept out and went for a cigarette behind the complex before I made a last minute mad dash across town to meet the Disability Meeting group.  Thankfully I was in time to eat at La Planet beforehand. It was a good meeting, but it was my mate Jo’s last day. She’s left VSO now and taken a consultancy contract. She and her fiancé Pierre are hoping to head back to the UK in September so that he can do his MA. Then they plan to return here to live in the house she’s currently building. I’m glad she’s still around for a while. Sue and Eric are also leaving. It’s all change with old-hands heading out and new people arriving.

After Disability was Capacity Building, which I was chairing. Having become Jo’s prodigy, I'll be taking responsibility for this session in her absence. I feel more nervous about taking charge of her meetings than her cats lol She’s so damn efficient. Big boots to fill.

We finished at five, so I’d been going ten and a half hours. I was knackered. Did manage to flog six RNAD sign language T-shirts, though. We all piled into Stella after the meeting. Several people commented how happy I was looking *sigh* I’m missing D terribly. We call each other briefly each night. It can never be more than brief due to the cost of phone credit here – it’s crazy bad. At Stella I sent him a text saying what a long day I’d had. I told him that I was out, but would call him later. He called straight back: ‘Hey, I miss you,’ he said. ‘I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you.’

It was E! He was finally in Kampala! I was so happy lol They reckon they’ll be back on Tuesday, which might mean Wednesday or Thursday. It already feels like he’s been gone an age, but I guess a few more days won’t kill me. I’m so due a holiday. I am knackered. Went home from Stella after a couple of beers and was sitting on my porch reading a collection of short stories (First Love, Last Rites – Ian McEwan. Average.) when I get a call from Drew. 

He’s been busy with his visiting American boss the past week, but the guy had just gone home and Drew was on the liquor train. He came over about an hour later and we sat drinking and listening to music, then headed over to Chez Lando to join Cathryn, Paula, Angela and two new vols: Viviane and Luna. The latter is a business consultant from London, a really nice guy but hyper-happy to be here lol Makes a change from the glum problem-weary faces of the less positive newbies and bedraggled oldies. Cathryn and Angela are off to Zanzibar for three weeks today – jealous, moi?

We all ended back at my house for a few more drinks. I was going to change, then we were off to One Love, but I was just sooooo tired. Everyone left around midnight and I collapsed in a heap on my bed and just slept for nine and a half hours. My house is an utter state. Three kittens and no time this week to keep on top of the mess, plus the water’s been off for almost four days now. It mystifies me why, it’s been tipping it down for three of those!  

I’m going to do a clean-up operation, then I'm meeting an American lady at Chez Lando who wants to get involved in RNAD - she used to work with Deaf students back home. Also received a text from Parfait this morning saying that the UN have agreed to fund the Indonesia trip for Deaf youth! 

Amazing luck. I wrote the application, he delivered it – team effort. I also finished the Democracy & Human Rights application to the American Embassy, which I’ll deliver on Tuesday. That took a lot of brain cells. It’s a cross-cutting project to raise Deaf people’s awareness of their basic human and disability rights, whilst providing ministerial Sign Language and Deaf Awareness courses, and training Deaf people into employment as teachers. We want to kick-start a Sign Language industry to help RNAD and self-employed Deaf people to become more independent whilst, at the same time, increasing advocacy and consultation opportunities at grass-roots level. It’s about $2,000 over-budget but, being honest, even in Rwanda - what can you really do for £10,000? Quite a bit, but not a lot. The $ plummeting is a pain, and the Kenya situation has pushed the price of transport and purchasing right up. Fingers-crossed the little extra may be acceptably overlooked in light of a decent and well-presented project.

It's going to be another long week next week, getting the American application in, holding a meeting about the JAM training on Monday, organising Indonesia, setting up the IT training for our vols and hopefully heading back down to Gitarama to meet the lady from YWCA. At least I feel that I’m really achieving some things. A lot of vols get disheartened in their placements, feeling that they’re not getting anywhere, but I feel I’m actually contributing. There’s some really good stuff on the horizon that I’ve played a key role in bringing about.

Although I’m tired, I’m really happy and contented at the moment: good friends, lovely fella, job satisfaction, and a wonderful home. What more can one ask?

Cocktails at the Mille Collines - Film Fest

Poolside at the Mille Collines

Well, went for a quiet Italian Friday night, only the place was packed and the service was dire. Oh well. Marked the beginning of a mediocre weekend.

Saturday, D went in to work, again, to help Steve with some of the Mission Project stuff. It wasn't the studio stuff, so technically a favour rather than work. I don't know, I lose track. But he didn't get back until late. We went to Drew's house for a couple of beers. Regis and Christian (of KBC night) were there, but they were all playing video games on Drew's crazy-big wall projector and it wasn't really my bag. We did, however, order a stunning take-away from Republika, which is right opposite the house and possibly the coolest bar I've ever seen in my life. It's got that 'vibe' about it. I'll be going back for a proper drink some time. The food was delish, but we didn't eat 'til gone eleven, then Paula called to say the gang had just landed at One Love.

We got there to find quite a few VSOs, but the mood was spoiled a bit by the club's obsession with blinding white strobe lighting. You're right in the middle of a really groovy, laid-back reggae track and all of a sudden they whack this thing on and everyone wants to be sick and cover their eyes. I have no idea what possesses them to do it. It's such a shame, and really spoils the mood.

We'd only been there about half an hour when D says he's tired and wants to go home. I was narked because I'd literally just bought a bottle of waragi to split with Paula. Although I wasn't having a great night, sensibly, I should just have said 'okay, see you later' and carried on, but instead I said 'okay, I'll come with you.' I gave my drink to Cathryn and took a moto back in the freezing rain with him. I was in a slightly huffy mood.

The next morning, he wakes me up to tell me he's going to E's mum's place and we've been invited for Easter Lunch - 'it's traditional.' Never good to tell me these things when I've just woken up. I don't do mornings. I was still a tad peeved after the night before, thinking 'you didn't put yourself out for me and my friends, why should I put myself out for your family?' - which is completely the wrong attitude, I know. Let's call it hormonal.

He went, and said he'd call me later and come pick me up. Only it was Easter Day and MTN couldn't manage a p!ss-up in a brewery. The whole network was down the entire day. Dad tried to call most of it - on a few different providers - and couldn't get through. No texts or calls went anywhere. So I never got D's call, and ended up spending Easter Day feeling hopelessly homesick and totally sorry for myself.

It makes me sick to think MTN has an exclusive contract in Rwanda for something like the next 10 years. It's a total monopoly meaning they can provide as shite a service as they like because there's nowhere else to go (don't even mention Rwandatel!) and they're only adding to the unemployment problem because no competition is bad for customers and bad for jobs. MTN, essentially, suck.

Okay, rant over - need to vent at something ;)

So, again, D comes home really late, by which time I've worked myself into a complete state wondering why on earth I thought a relationship might be fun, knowing full-well I'm allergic to them. 

We curled up on the bed and watched a movie with some Cadbury Mini-Eggs that Dad sent out. Suddenly, I remember why I thought it would be a good idea. Chocolate and man makes everything better again.

I think I just went from being single, to being not, so fast that I left my brain behind. It's going to take some time.

Soooo, yesterday I went into work but forgot my keys. I ended up going into town instead, to pick up yet more parcels from the Post Office - that's about 10 in three days! Thanks everyone *sloppy wet ones* :op

Then I bumped into Kirsty, another vol, and had coffee and cake in Bourbon - which now has shiny new menus, and is going to branch out into the MTN centre too! World domination ahoy! Although their 'Bourbon St.' sign always reminds me of the Sting song Moon Over Bourbon Street, where he's a vampire preying on young girls...

Anyway, went home via VSO to do some work (yes guys, I do actually work!) and threw an absolute fit when, after almost five months, they finally found my passport - in a draw - no visa, no nothing! 

I could not believe it. I'd watched them leave to drop my passport off at Immigration after I first arrived! I’d filled out all the paperwork! Another VSOoooops. But then a lovely lady called Heather, who has been drafted in from HQ to help sort out the admin crisis here, rescued me from a coronary and promised to make it all better. I've arranged to go in and see her later today to start the process again. It should be done in four weeks max, she reckons.

I had arranged to meet Kirsty at the Film Festival which is taking place this month. They were showing a couple at the Mille Collines on a portable projector screen. D and I had been talking about going to see some of it, so I texted him to let him know my plans. I was heading there for 6pm. Quarter-to six I get a text back telling me he's out of town doing a music video shoot for a mate.

*sigh* Fine. I text around a few friends but none of them are that interested. To be fair, MC is pretty pricey and we're all pretty broke. I decide to go by myself. Sod it, I had a lousy Easter and a crappy passport fiasco, I deserve a little treat. 

I dress up, get my slap on, and take a bisi into town. The MC is pretty packed, actually. I was surprised. I took a secluded table poolside. It was already dark, but there were still one or two people swimming - very relaxing to watch. I ordered fish brochettes and a beer. £4.60 for a meal that would cost me £1.50 anywhere else, and not much better quality. Still, I'd not eaten in the MC and afterwards I splashed out on a couple of cocktails by the same name. 

I didn't catch any of the films as I couldn't be arsed to move over to the screen. The poolside was just so relaxing, and the cocktails so nice. Just what the doctor ordered. I also found my friend Ally, the lawyer I met on the plane on the way out. He was there with some friends, just returned from South Africa. Ally's a complete Scottish sweetie, it's always nice to see him. He's currently having a beard-growing competition with his colleague and looks more like a European backpacker than a property lawyer.

I also sat watching a rather mature ex-pat and his Rwandese lady sucking face on a table in front of me. I can't help but laugh, as it's something us younger lot never do in public. Cultural. I don't even hold D's hand when we're walking. Kissing in public like that! It's all reversed. It's what you'd expect young tourists to do who don't know the way things are, yet here's li'le me being oh-so-reserved, and them throwing to the wind. Good on 'em though, the world should be full of love. It's upsetting not to be able to have a kiss in the street or put an arm around your man. Maybe the more people do it, the less of a stir it'll cause - welcome to the West.

Around half-nine I get a call from D. He's home and wondering where I am, so I tell him 'poolside at the MC with a cocktail.' - 'Can I come find you? I've got something to tell you.' - 'Sure'. Sounds ominous. It's either 'I love you' or 'I'm leaving you' - either way, I have a cocktail.

About an hour later he does indeed find me. He looks shattered. 'What happened to you?'

Long video shoot, and a world full of woes. He's leaving 5am for Kampala, staying the night at his old digs in Kacyiru with E so that they can get off on time because it's a ten hour bus journey.

Oh. Okay.

I should be pleased he's getting E sorted out, but I've barely seen him in three days and I'm slightly brittle about it. Deep breath. Relax. He hasn't eaten, but only wants a beer as he's got to get back to Kitch and get some shut-eye. Ally leaves just before us. I beg him to let me know if anything's going on over the next few days - I feel like I need some fun.

So, we walk out together. It's tough having a man with such a complicated life, and patience was never my virtue. My life is just so uncomplicated - then I filled it with three cats and a D, now it's mayhem. I can't quite decide whether I secretly like it or whether I'm about to go wacko.

We walk down to get a taxi and, in the shadows, when there's no-one else around, we have a long goodbye kiss. He's even holding my hand down the street - now that's saying something.

He reckons he'll be back Friday. Well, what can you do? I texted him first thing this morning to wish him a safe journey, and he texted to tell me the buses were packed and he's gone ahead. E's getting the next available coach. I told him to look after E and to get back safe. At least Uganda is safe. Kirsty's fella was late back from Bujumbura the other day and she was in floods of panic. At least I know D will just be travel weary.

So, I'm back to where I was - manless - if only for a few days. Not all bad, I love my home and being by myself, so I'm happy. I just wonder what will happen after E gets sorted out. Will I see any more of him? Fingers crossed. I guess it takes a guy some time to relax after such a tough time of it.

Meanwhile, I'm planning another trip down to Gitarama to visit the YWCA. I'd like to learn about their Sexual Health and Family Planning 'Train the Trainer' courses for a potential women's funding project. I'm up to my eyeballs in Democracy & Human Rights American Embassy papers and I'm working with Antonia on a Theatre in Education application. I've got lunch on Saturday with a potential American volunteer. I'm helping Karen plan the programme for two Gallaudet students in May, trying to get this IT training moving forward, and chairing the VSO Disability meeting on Friday. So, at least I have a few distractions. I should have my confirmatory visit with Amanda soon, to finalise my placement. I think I'm going to suggest changing my title from 'Researcher' to full-time 'Funding Officer'. I don't relish the idea, but it's what they need, and I've put in the time back in the UK so I know the job. I'm getting RSI from hitting 'copy/paste' all day ;)

Reminder

If you'd like to help out, you can find a list of things for myself and the wider good HERE.

Having a yummy lazy day - the weather is gorgeous and D is catching up on six months' sleep. Two blokes came knocking at 9am to ask him to go open the studio for them. He actually went! Only for an hour, though. C'mon guys, it's a public holiday!

Going for Italian later. Nice romantic restaurant overlooking Kigali. Could use some sleep myself *yawn, stretch*

Yay for lazy days.

Kibuye & Cat Emergency!

Hotel Bethanie

Hurrah for the end of a long week! :)

Tuesday night was nice, although unfortunately my guard dropped by to announce a family member had died. I gave him the week off and his wages in advance. Hope he's okay. As much as we don't get on, you'd never wish that. But it left D and I to our own devices, and we made the most of it until he went back to the studio to sleep. He's trying to get some of his work back from them before he leaves.

That meant I got a wonderfully long night's kip, which I think I really needed. I was up early Wednesday morning as we had a Dutch Deaf visitor to welcome in the office. He's doing a tour of African countries for his organisation, to consider funding projects. That was over by about ten. I was there with my bags as we were off for our final round of research in Kibuye, another town on the shores of Lake Kivu.

Didn't leave Kigali until gone four o'clock, by Atraco bus. It was a hugely uncomfortable journey, jammed in the back with no leg room and not a straight stretch of road the whole way. I didn't get sea sick this time, but my knees were bruised when we finally arrived.

I was in a pretty grim mood - not angsty, just 'flat'. Not up for it. The cramped conditions were part of it, so were the schools emptying as we drove - a tirade of 'muzungu! muzungu! muzungu!' the entire way - I swear if I hear the 'M' word one more time... grrrrr. Added to that, I just wanted to head home and snuggle up to my new fella. I was quiet, head elsewhere, and everyone wanted to sign at me. I was in a 'blah' mood.

It was just about dark when Gerard took me by moto to this amazing, remote, luxury hotel on top of a hill overlooking the bay. The Bethanie, at 1,486m/4,875ft above sea level. I was amazed when I saw it, my jaw hung loose. Apparently my predecessor had stayed there in a cheap room for FRW 8,000 but this time they didn't have any left, only chalets for 15,000. It was dark, I was tired. After Gerard argued with the receptionist, then considered going back to town - without a moto in sight - to find other accommodation, I just waved goodnight in the car park and went and checked myself in.

It was indeed luxury: huge bed, TV and hot water. I was in heaven. I ate at the restaurant by the lakeside: chicken wings in garlic and onion sauce, with chips - wonderful - then turned in early for the night. I managed a text to D from the top of a wall in the car park, but the reception was pants. Watched an American news channel for a while, then slept for about nine hours straight.

I ate breakfast at the restaurant in the morning: omelette, bread, tea and juice, then waited for an hour in the car park for Gerard to pick me up.

Got into town and found a group of Deaf people in a local café, again right on the lakeshore, golden sand and everything. I think Kibuye is the most beautiful place I've ever seen in my life. Huge, lush-green volcanic islands in a deep blue bay, truly idyllic. I would love to go back there for a holiday.

The research was good, but I felt a bit of a hanger-on. They don't really need me there, they know what they're doing. I don't like being around when I'm in such an introvert mood. It doesn't happen very often, but I'm best left alone to get over it. I received a Christmas video from home the day before, and some things that made me a tad homesick. I was still vaguely in that headspace and didn't want to bring people down.

After that, we walked back to town. It was a very hot day, and there was me with all my bags on my back. Didn't do much for the mood. On the way, we passed a pretty church on another hilltop. As we walked by I stopped and turned to see a big stone plaque announcing it as a memorial site for 11,400 dead... 11,400. I looked at it for a long time.

When we got back to town I texted my boss. The UN had taken over the town to build a hospital, and had taken up all the cheap rooms. As I wasn't really helping much I told him that I'd be heading back to Kigali that afternoon. The others were staying on to do some more research. The reply amounted to 'no worries,' so at 2pm I boarded my ride home.

On the way, I started on the last few chapters of Emergency Sex - the book I've been raving about. The chapter I opened on was entitled: Rwanda, Kibuye. 

I blinked. It was the doctor of the story describing exhuming the mass grave at the church at Kibuye, the very one I had just walked past. Apparently it had been one of those 'run to the church' scenarios, where people were told to take refuge there and then slaughtered. Mainly women and children. It took three days. The killers started, then cut the tendons and broke the ankles of those still alive, went home, had tea with their families, drank more liquor, and came back to carry on their work the next day. Only two survivors were found. I think the full total marks all those in Kibuye.

It's very strange reading something like that, especially now knowing all of the places described. Life here is so normal. People here are so normal. You easily forget. But when you read something like that, you can't help looking up from your book and glancing around you. It's chilling. Anyone over the age of fourteen or fifteen was alive at the time. The people you sit with and talk to every day, the people in the high street, in the restaurant, on the bus. Who lost their families? Who watched their families being killed? Who fled as a refugee? Who hacked down a woman, or a child, or their next door neighbour with a machete?

The journey back was only marginally less uncomfortable than the one there. More leg room, but I got a window seat so my arm was hard-up against the bar. The guy sitting next to me made no effort to hold his own weight on the corners, so my arm now has a bruise the size of London. Nice people though, had a bit of a chat. I impressed them with my meagre rations of Kinyarwanda, and their English was good.

When I got back to town I made a beeline for a moto, but tripped over Antonia on the way. We went to Bourbon for a coffee. I wasn't really in the mood, still flatlining mentally and emotionally - not depressed, but not outgoing. I was glad I went, though. She bucked me up a bit, chatted about work. Ended up coming back to mine and we bumped into the Dutch guest and my colleague on the way. Rumours of funding for a conference on Deaf Education. It was rush hour, so I ended up getting a taxi back.

D had been looking after the cats whilst I was away. I was dying for a kiss, but he'd gone to the studio to get a couple more things done.

When I opened my gate, my jaw dropped for the second time in two days.

My yard and my house were immaculate. I was afraid to touch anything! He'd completely cleaned it out - swept, mopped, washed. I thought I was in the wrong place for a minute. What an awesome guy!

Antonia and I sat and chatted for a while, then she went to meet people at SoleLuna. I declined an offer in favour of gazing at my shiny home for a while. D said he'd be back at nine, but came back much earlier and I finally got my kiss. He says he's quit the job now. I wonder if he'll be alright. He's been working there so hard for so long, I'm not sure he'll know what else to do. He glimpsed his boss for five seconds, but never got to have another talk about money. I think they've just blown him over big time - he's much better out of there.

I went over to the shop to grab some quick-'n'-easy junk food. We were outside on the porch eating it when I realised one of the kits, Mao, was missing. I went into a controlled panic. I checked the house - nada - I then wondered whether he'd followed me out of the gate. I went for a walk outside, banging the food plate and calling him, but nothing. This made me panic even more because he's such a vocal cat (hence the name) - if he wasn't mewing, had he been hit by a car!?

I flipped between panic and 'he'll come home when he's ready' feigned composure. I walked around the yard mewing, and no reply. It must be bad.

Then D said that when I went to get food, he saw all three go round to the back yard. He didn't think Mao was on the street. He thought about it for a moment, then said he remembered all three going into the back yard, then two: Sula and Shue/Ishuheri, came running back at a right pace - but not Mao.

Sh!t I'm thinking. Fox? Hawk? Something worse? What kind of urban predators do they have here!?

I stand looking around the back yard in dismay. Then my eyes catch a small, round drainpipe sloping into the ground, and they narrow. Tentatively - I creep up to it, lean low, and 'meaw'.

A distant, but audible reply echoes up.

Oooooh crap. My cat has fallen down the drainpipe.

D gets the torch and I shine it down the narrow opening. I see another pipe on the far side, then a vertical drop. Pants. There's a stone drain cover above the drop, but it's embedded in the earth. It would take four strong men at least to dig it out, yet alone lift it.

Right. Don't panic. No fire brigade to call - you're on our own. Mao's on his own. But you know where he is now. VSO-hat on. What resources do we have....

A towel, grab a towel. I run into the house and grab my towel. I run back out and D looks perplexed as I use the hand of the garden rake to push it down the drain. I cling to the other end of the towel and lower it down until my shoulder hits the opening.

Too short. I hear cat scuffles below, but the towel doesn't even hit the bottom. He can't reach it - if he's in there at all.

Bed sheet! Bed sheet! D runs into the house and returns with his bed sheet. I shake it out and try again. It's much longer. Will the li'le guy know what I'm trying to do?

This time there's a huge tug on the other end. I've gone fishing for cats and caught one! Hold on li'le guy.

I start to haul it up slowly. Three...two...one...

A little white fluffy head pops out of the drain pipe and looks around relieved. I pull him out and give him a strangle-worthy hug. He purrs like a moto. All is right with the world again, emergency rescue complete. 999 eat yer heart out!

My family are safe, all three snoozing on the couch and D asleep in his room. I noticed, and he later pointed out, that he's moved a few of his things in. It feels good. I'm quietly contented that he moved them into his room, not mine. I think things are going to be okay. So far, so good. Bahoro, bahoro (slowly, slowly).

Family, Safe & Sound
L-R: Ishuheri, Mao, Sula

St. Paddy's Day

~whispering for the hung-over~

Happy Paddy's Day!!

Returned yesterday evening from a very funky weekend in Gahini where over 30 volunteers gathered for a joint celebration of the Patron Saint of Alcoholics, and Bruce's 60th birthday party :)

All convened at Jambo Beach on the shores of Lake Muhazi. Was most funktacular. Put up loads of decorations in the afternoon, then sloped off to the Bishop's Guesthouse, a big multi-roomed guesthouse just up past Seeds of Peace.

Bishop's Guesthouse

We were supposed to be hiring out the luxury bungalows there. Right up until the morning of the day Paula was checking and they said 'yes, yes, it's booked,' then that morning they gave the booking away!!! Paula, bless her poor stressed heart, was apoplectic and argued until they gave us the guesthouse for a real knock-down rate.

You've probably heard me natter on a bit about D recently, he's a guy who works in the recording studio next to my office. To cut a long story short, he moved down from Uganda (and he is Ugandan, rather than Rwandese returnee) about six months ago looking for work as a graphic designer. Due to Rwanda's massive unemployment problem, he couldn't find any. His best mate gave him a huge hand in finding a place to stay and a job at his brother's recording studio. Only, in December, his friend and his brother had a huge falling-out resulting in the friend landing on very hard times. He's unable to support D any further. Being best mates, D now feels a real responsibility to help him in return, but is trapped at the recording studio run by the guy's brother. As part of the vendetta, he's been treating D pretty crappily. He hasn't been paid in over two months, works 12 hour shifts (and sometimes over night) at least six days a week, and is still living with the youngest brother who can be a little snydie at times. On the whole, D's pretty low at the moment. I offered to take both D and his friend away to Gahini for some R&R as they both really deserve it.

We got to mumuji (town) for the bus in plenty of time, only I didn't get the text telling me it was the Remera stop near my house, not the one in town. With five minutes to spare, I finally made contact with Cathy who shouts 'get on a moto, we'll hold the bus.' All three of us throw ourselves (literally) at the nearest motos and race flat-out across town. It probably wasn't the safest thing I've ever done, but it was highly exhilarating. Three competitive moto drivers on a mission. We made it all the way there in about 10 minutes - even Cathy was amazed.

Not the most relaxing start to a relaxing weekend, but very good fun.

The bus was a real squash - lots of VSOs aboard: Marisa, Els, Hans, Mans, Cathy, Ken and myself. We made the one hour forty-five trundle to Gahini, where loads of others had already arrived.

The guesthouse was a little short on beds - three of us, one bed. Ho-hum. Think about it later - plenty of drinking to be done. So I flung myself in the hot shower, first one in over four months!!! I was more excited about that than the party :op

It was awesome. Warm, yummy hot water, perfect temperature. I felt four months of red dust trickle from my pores. Also, for the first time in so long, I put conditioner in my hair... aaaaaaahhhh. I arrived a sweaty, sun-baked vagabond, and I left a sweet-smelling princess.

We wandered back to Jambo and drank and danced and partied. There was even an Irish dancing lesson!

In the hat, singing the Irish Rover

Which was about the time D and I took some quiet time. We wandered down to the lake shore and sat chatting. It's a very surreal experience sitting next to a lake in the middle of Africa, listening to Irish jigs and a drunken chorus of the Irish Rover...

But the stars were bright, and the lake was calm and...well... what more can one say? Romance happened.

Some time later we arrived back at the party and everyone had noticed our absence. Martine had even texted me and had tried to call D. We blushed our way back into the crowds and continued the revelries.

Around 2am, after partaking of Bruce's chocolate birthday cake, we staggered back to the guesthouse and thus confronted the bed situation. There was a suggestion we all just share the bed - which I did considered, fleetingly, but didn't really feel comfy with. I offered to take the couch and let the boys share - they were in more need of a comfy bed than I was. However, when I came out of the bathroom, E had done the gentlemanly thing and installed himself on the couch. I argued half-heartedly, then went back to our room. We zonked out immediately and slept like babies. Only, like a baby, D was up at six o'clock to go take some pictures of the lake. I could have killed him! So, E finally got his share of the comfy mattress and we slept on for another hour or so. When I was awake, I got freshened up - under another hot shower! mmmmmm - and D came back and slept lol It was like relay sleeping.

I went and claimed my complimentary breakfast of omelette and toffee (sort of a tea/coffee/not-really-sure mix) and then went with some other vols (Chris, Marisa, Bruce and Eric) back to Jambo, where Bruce and I went for a dip in Lake Muhazi. They then went for an early bus and I sat reading my book and drinking coffee whilst my cozy dried out.

Can't beat a good book.

Eventually, a whole bunch of other vols arrived and we ordered drinks and food. D and E eventually surfaced too, but stayed over the other side and went for a boat ride - all muzungued out. We're a bit overwhelming, the VSO group. A bit 'waffle, waffle, blah blah blah'. When your head's not in the best of places (weighed down with work troubles) it's the last place you'd want to be as a non-VSOer.

Late in the afternoon, after sitting by the roadside forever, the three of us managed to hook a direct bus back to Kigali, which was very cool. D and E had some stuff to do in town, but D was going to come over later. A plan cut short by Cathryn who, having arrived non-direct (via Kayonza) in Kigali about the same time we did, couldn't quite face the additional two hour trip all the way back to her home in Nyanza, and called in the offer of a bed for the night.

We had a brilliant time and it was exactly what I needed. We had a dead chilled-out evening just chatting. I really wanted some advice about the man. Back home you have insecurities, but here they're magnified ten-fold. D and I had been friends for a while, we got talking after he came into my office a few times and we started chatting about films. He'd been to the house a few evenings. We'd sit and drink and talk for hours about all sorts of things, and he'd never tried it on. I like him and respect him. I'd also made him an offer of an escape route from the shitty situation he's in - the offer of the spare room and some money to help get himself sorted out. Buy him some time to work out what he wants to do - try for another job here or head back to Kampala.

Of course, all of this came before the weekend. That kind of puts a different spin on things. What does he expect, what do I expect, what is morally right and what is damaging? When I first made the offer, we were at Mel's party a couple of weeks ago and it just seemed to me like the answer to a problem. Then, one night after, we were on the porch chatting and he turned serious and asked if I meant it. I ummed and aahed for a second, trying to think about all that would entail. We discussed it a little and eventually I said 'yes,' I meant it. I do.

He hasn't taken it up yet, but would like to. He's holding out for his pay. Having had crappy bosses in the past, I'm accustomed to smelling bullsh!t and doubt severely that he's going to see a cent of what he's owed. Not my call, though. I respect him deeply for trying when an open offer is on the table.

Anyway, then there was romance. In my previous relationship my partner brought in the lion's share of the income. I was also employed, but could never have afforded our lifestyle on my own. I couldn't even pay the bills. I had a lovely, generous man who took care of me.

This is a role-reversal. One I've never had before. This time I'm set up and I like a guy who needs a bit of support. Add to this the blindfolded situation of cultures, life experiences and expectations, and you start to get a bit dizzy. Perhaps we both think exactly the same? Perhaps I'm worrying over nothing? Perhaps not.

The first good friend I spoke to about this told me a horror story in which she had gone, in good faith, down a similar route and was royally taken advantage of. She ended up feeling thoroughly awful about the whole experience.

Additionally, it's very difficult trying to discuss it with friends and family back home because of the completely different culture and circumstances out here. I did though, and thankfully the responses were really good if a little cautious.

So, Cathy was the turning point. Three very trusted friends who had met D all said, without prompting, that he was a really nice guy. Out here, that sort of blessing means a lot because your network of friends are the people you really rely on when you don't know the ropes. There are a few here with Rwandese boyfriends and fiancés - Cathy is one of them. Whereas I was expecting another cautionary tale from her, instead I got a refreshingly open, honest, and positive insight.

Yes, she said, money will always be a contention here, because most people have nothing. But, there we are then. She sympathised with all the awful questions going round in my mind - summed up wonderfully in the book I cannot recommend enough: Emergency Sex: True Stories from a War Zone - like 'how much does it feel like I'm soliciting sex?' When you help out a friend, you help out a friend, but when you help out a lover - what are you expecting from one another? I wonder if men ever think like this or whether it's a female psychological 'issue'? Are men just more accustomed to being the ones in financial control? Why does it feel so uncomfortable?

Tune in next week for these and other gripping questions...

It's a strange one. It can also be an insulting question, because if he's not expecting anything (and hanging around for his wages would suggest not) then how carefully you'd have to approach such a theme not to injure their pride and dignity.

We'd decided on a month's trial: a bed, some cash, and a ton of support with the CV and trying to nail a job. Then review the situation. A month isn't long, especially here - so many talented and educated young people with no jobs to go to - but it's a start. All else failing, it's also a bus ticket back to Kampala.

But I left a relationship in England, and I'm not sure I want another one. This is my territory - and I'm territorial.

All the same, I like the guy. He's easy company, we get on well, and - if it doesn't work out - well, nothing earth shattering hopefully for either of us.

Boat on Lake Muhazi

Gitarama

Cyclo

I was up at six, bisis were busy so took a moto to Atraco. Bought two tickets at 7:30, as arranged with Parfait, and stood waiting for him. Bumped into another ex-VSO who was signing a contract for a new job with the Christian Women's Foundation, the Director of which was also going to Gitarama, so we boarded the bus and shared chapatis. Nice lady.

By ten-to eight I knew that my colleague wasn't going to make it. The bus pulled out of the station at eight, and at twenty-past - when we were already well out of Kigali - he texted to ask me to tell the bus to wait for him. I would have laughed if I'd been in the mood. I was quite annoyed because I'd made the effort to get out of bed and organise all of this, late into the night, and he couldn't even get the bus on time. I'd managed to sell his ticket at Nyamirambo, so I wasn't out of pocket, and Augustin was refunding my travel expenses so nothing was lost. However, having told Karen that I would deliver her a representative of our organisation, and then to arrive empty-handed, was a bit of a disappointment.

As it was, I had an absolutely fantastic day. Arrived in Gitarama (second largest city in Rwanda) around 9:30, having witnessed the most spectacular roadblock. A 16-wheeler truck had gone over sideways across the entire road. Apparently it'd been there for a week, everyone had to drive around the edge.

We went to Karen's local school, where there are loads of Deaf kids of all ages. Even those that aren't Deaf sign, but it's quite limited signing and everyone learns English and French. I saw my first African albino. He was hearing, but refused to go to his local school because of the teasing. He felt more comfortable at the Deaf school.

Then we took a taxi up to JAM, where Nix is the Headteacher. She's not VSO, but often comes to our Capacity Building meetings to pick up tips. She's South African and so easy to get on with. The school was originally set up as an orphanage in 1995. They collected up all of the children who didn't have a home and flew out lots of resources/toys/equipment for them.

Nix has been there for two years now and is thinking of moving on. Her job, as well as running the school, is to help set the kids up for leaving, so that they have an independent future. Each child has around £1,000 behind them, given through the church and through oil money (complicated). Some of the orphans have been there since the genocide - over 14 years - and are very institutionalised. There are some behavioural problems, and many disabilities. We had a good chat. Hopefully RNAD can get involved in helping to set up the Deaf kids, who are more likely to be taken advantage of when they leave the school. I'm going to have a talk to Augustin and see if we can help start an apprenticeship scheme and help JAM with some training.

It was excellent meeting the kids. They came from three schools, including Butare, which is streets ahead in Sign Language. All the kids from there are really good communicators. We had an excellent time. They mix into groups and go around doing different activities like football, volleyball, dance, art etc.

There was a lovely chocolate cake for break, and a yummy lunch. It's a lovely area of the country and I'm so glad I went. Bumped into another Deaf guy from Kigali, Emanuel, who I sometimes see in the office. He's hoping to teach IT there. We went home together at 3pm and I got my first cyclo experience! It's like a moto, but with someone peddling a bicycle. I only did it because it was downhill, but it was a wonderful way to travel. You sit on a cushion on the back and watch the world go slowly by. Very tranquil.

At the bottom of the hill we immediately found a minibus direct to Kigali, and another to Kimironko! Some days the transport system just smiles on you.

I was knackered when I got home. Did a little washing and tidying, then hit the hay. Off to Gahini tomorrow for St. Paddy's day and Bruce's 60th birthday. D and Emmy should be coming too.

Have a fantastic celebration wherever you are and whoever you spend it with!