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