TFI Friday

Veeeery tired. I've been suffering some horrible cold since I got back from Kampala. The weather's wet, cold and miserable, and I'm wheezing like an 80-year-old woman (not to generalise! I know there are some very fit elderly ladies who could no doubt outrun me in a fun run). I feel drained. Been coughing, slightly clammy, headachy. Just doesn't seem to want to clear up. Going to tuck myself up in bed this weekend and really try to get better. Still, hopefully that's all it is. I bumped into Gareth, another volunteer, the other day, not looking too perky - he's got typhoid. Cathy's come down with malaria. She didn't realise for two weeks! It generally seems to be the season (if there were such things) for getting ill.

Added to that, I'm stressed. D and I have had another talk and I have made it very clear he needs to find 1. a job, and 2. somewhere else to live. I don't care which order, but he needs to do it by the end of July. I think two months is more than reasonable given how long he's already had. He's a nice guy, he'll remain a friend, but he needs to move on now and get himself sorted out. Not least I can't afford to keep both of us and three cats. I just really, really want my house back. I miss being able to just slob out and do my own thing, fart when I want to. I have this label across my forehead: 'Doesn't work well with others.'

I do seem to be flavour of the month at work, though. That makes me slightly uneasy. I prefer anonymity lol I've written several funding and report forms over the past few days at incredibly short notice. They've been hugely appreciated by both RNAD and VSO. In front of the new Country Director today, my ability to organise RNAD volunteers was also noted by a fellow volunteer. So, seems like my job's safe at least lol Just feeling a bit physically pants. It's been over three weeks now and this cold just ain't lifting.

I tried the 'fook it' approach last night. Drew came over and we had a bit of a sesh and went for drinks. It was a fun night. You'll be glad to know the toe is doing just fine. It lifted my spirits at least, so things are a bit better.

Today was the last IT session for my volunteers :) Fantastic. All most excellent. Really good stuff. Out of the seven original attendees we ended up with about five regulars, so not bad. I took in a bag of Chocolate Eclairs to celebrate :op I felt a boosted sense of achievement as I walked out of the training room. I really did achieve something there, and moving to the Deaf teacher was a fantastic bonus. I hope to do some more in the future, and volunteers have asked for more - which is the important thing. Apparently we are the very first of the Disability Partnership groups to undertake training, so another gold star against my name. I feel a bit uneasy, though. I'm not usually a pessimist, but I'm wonder whether I'm storing all of this goodwill up for when the bubble bursts? It all seems to be going a bit too well just now...

There is a lot of good, positive stuff going on at the moment. I put an appeal out in a forum I post in a lot, asking for people to help with French translation. I received two replies: one guy, Fred, who is excellent at translating e-mails into English for me at short notice, and another, Chloe, who has been doing all the heavy documents. Spooky as hell - she turns out to be my ex's new partner! Phil has moved to Brighton. They knew each other from years back - chance meeting! Small, small world :)

The kittens are now three-quarter sized cats. They're sickeningly healthy but utter monsters. Almost time for the snip *winces* poor babies. I thought about just getting Sula done. However, in the interests of equality, if she has to suffer, it's only fair the boys should too. Plus, it stops them getting into as many fights and wandering off too much. It might make them easier to rehome some day, too. Not that I want to think about that just yet. Sula and Shue will be alright wherever they go, but poor Maobely needs his mum. I think he'd miss me if I went anywhere - such an affectionate boop.

Received my official gold-embossed invitation to the Queen's Birthday at the Embassy next month. I wasn't going to go as the invite was very 'NO partners, NO friends, NObody else,' and it all looked a bit pretentious, but it's not like I have anyone to worry about taking now, and a few other volunteers are going. There will be plenty of expensive free booze, might as well network. We were laughing today that none of the other embassies invite anyone other than their own nationals to such does, but we invite everyone. Excuse for a knees-up.

I think I forgot to mention before, but the two American students from Gallaudet landed the other week. Karen brought them up to meet the RNAD lot. It was a good day. We had fun. Hopefully I'll see more of them soon.

I'm just waffling now. Not masses to say. Life is just bumbling along. Oooh, but Dad & M are about to start their injections :) They're due out in September - can't wait. It will be most excellent to finally have visitors and an excuse for another holiday. Can't believe how fast time's going! I've been here almost seven months now! I love my home here, hope it doesn't go too fast. 

I was talking to another volunteer who was in Rwanda, she left just about the time I arrived. She's now on a short-term six month placement in Mongolia. I'd love to go there! There and India. I was thinking I might try and do those on short-term placements after this. Not two years again, that would be too much a second time round. Then maybe join the UN or some other overseas corpus and earn a proper living for once. Think I'll be ready to settle down a bit then. I can't see myself moving back to the UK for a while, though. Once you're away from it you don't really miss it. It's nice to romantically miss it, and there are some places I still remember very fondly, but it's always going to be there and life here is... well, just good really. The pace of life suits me down to the ground (customer services aside) and the network of people is excellent. The job is fantastic - I just feel so involved and happy with it all. Of course, you have highs and lows wherever you are, but it feels like life is being lived and that life likes me at the moment - snotty nose and all.

Ramble ramble ramble...

Going to have a very quiet weekend. If anybody needs me, I'll be in bed with the covers over my head and a good book.

Scary Evaluation *tremble*

Well, D finally came home on Wednesday. I'd had enough by this point and laid down the law, asking him to start looking for somewhere else to live. Unhappy D didn't take it too well, but I was insistent.

It was a rather intense evening, which ended up in bed. Does that make me a bad person? In the words of Family Guy, "Yes Lois, yes it does." Not the best idea, I must admit. We agreed to give it a little longer and see how things go. He had been in Kampala so long because his travel papers were about to expire and he had to get them sorted out. Kampala's administration isn't so hot. I think he even ended up sleeping on the floor of one of the offices to get the stamp he needed in time. I said it wasn't about how long he took, it was about communication. Tell me what you're doing. Don't just disappear for a few days and expect me to be happy to see you when you finally get back.

Anyway, the day after he returned was my major six-month placement review. My Programme Manager at VSO came to visit my boss to see how things are progressing - i.e. whether I need a plane ticket back to the UK lol They say it's just a relaxed visit, but it feels like quite a big deal.

It was supposed to be me, my boss and my Programme Manager, but a few of my colleagues decided to come and see what was going on, so there was a panel of Léon, Francois and Gerard at the other end of the table. I had to interpret most of it for them. I didn't mind so much because it made me feel as though I was in a slightly more passive role and could just let it wash over me. I hate assessments, even friendly ones. Most of it was also in French.

Essentially, at the end of it, it transpired that my colleagues love me :op Not a bad word to say about me, although a few misunderstandings about how VSO works, which my Programme Manager had to clarify for them. But, all very good on the Western front :) I got a lift back with my PM afterwards and it was really nice to have the relaxed de-briefing time. It turns out VSO appreciate me too - I'm very 'self sufficient', and they like that. They're glad I've signed up for two years. So, all-round, I was glowing when I got back. :op

Martine was here when I walked in. She'd brought me a bottle of waragi to celebrate and she, me and D headed to Salsa at Gikondo. Salsa didn't really happen for some reason. We got really tipsy and had a fine meal, though. It was a good night.

Friday, I was supposed to be heading down to Gitarama. I've been trying to meet up with this woman at the YWCA for about three months now and something always gets in the way. It's honestly getting ridiculous. We were going to meet in Kigali, but her schedule changed so she asked if I'd make it to their offices. I said 'yego' and was all dressed and ready when it started to rain. In true British spirit I picked up my umbrella and headed for the door.

"You're not going out in this?" D asked.

Of course. I upped the brolly and strode out to the bus stop. 20 minutes later I returned in a puddle of water, soaked through to the bone. I drained my shoe in front of him. No buses, torrential rain. I phoned the lady. We'll rearrange again.

But it meant a nice lazy afternoon. D and I watched The Day After Tomorrow. Later, when it had stopped raining, I took the transport money over to Exfod to pay the IT students and Emmanuel, who was beaming at his first pay cheque. As I was heading there, I bumped into Martine, Paula and Ghislain. They were just about to phone me. They were on their way to Stella, the bar opposite my house, for food, then off to a dance display in town. I dropped off the money, popped in to tell D (who didn't fancy coming) then joined them for the most amazing tilapia with G&T and a beer.

After that, we headed to Prime Holdings, a big hall across town. When we arrived there were a lot of big shiny 4x4s in the parking lot. The tickets were FRW 5,000 (£5), which is extremely expensive in Rwanda. Even so, it looked a bit too posh. It turned out that the gig was cancelled because the RPF were having a meeting instead. Things happen like that here. No forward planning. So, in the absence of our taxi, we had to walk all the way back towards town.

I was relating my experiences with MINALOC recently. It's the Ministry responsible for Local Government, and they also register NGOs. I want to help set one up with Rose, so I visited their website. They said there were loads of international NGOs in Rwanda (about 20) but very few Rwandan NGOs. To find out how to set one up, it said, 'CLICK HERE'.... no hyperlink. Doh!

So, I went to the contact form and asked them how I could get hold of the information. A week later, nothing.

I e-mailed the webmaster to ask whether the contact form was definitely working. The reply: Oh no, it doesn't.

Well, just a suggestion, but maybe you should tell people that? I dunno, I mean, it's a lot of effort, but you might consider it some time when you have a spare day free...

Eeeejits.

So, no way to contact them or find out the information. I will probably have to go there instead. But it's representative of Rwanda’s general approach to customer services and admin... non-existent.

Blah.

Anyway, we arrived back in town. Ghislain went off to his guesthouse as he had to be up early, but Paula, Martin and I headed back to Martine's place in Nyamirambo. We went to the new nightclub at Sun City, next door. We had an outstanding night. We drank faaaar too much and danced our hearts out. There was one guy there, Justin, who was utterly mesmerising. He was the only one there when we arrived. He just danced and danced all night - real tribal influence - totally immersed in himself and not interested in dancing with other people. Later, I mimicked that and just did my own thing. He ended up coming over and we were challenging each other to dance different styles. It was a lot of fun and I picked up some of his tribal influence. Love it.

Also met a very nice guy called Dolphus - very cool hat. We all just had the best girls' night out. I ended up crashing at Martine's around 3am.

I arrived back the next morning after a wonderful breakfast, around 10am. Just as I was coming in D appeared in the doorway looking stunned. He'd slept in the spare room and assumed I'd come in really late, he hadn't realised I'd been gone and was tiptoeing around the house trying not to wake me up.

I got some more kip and, in the afternoon, feeling rather groggy, D and I headed to Immigration to hook up again with Martine and Paula. It was Joanne's birthday and we headed over to her and Morley's house together. The party started at 4pm with cheese and biscuits in the back garden. Rally relaxed, chatting. Then there was a massive spread of food which we all helped to prepare. By night time the front room was transformed into a dance hall with an excellent sound system. We danced the night away. Tons of Rwandese people from the Genocide Memorial Centre and other people they work with. The guy who gave the talk at Gisozi came. It was a brilliant night and I ended up just dancing until I dropped. We left in the wee hours to get motos home. D had danced a little, but mostly sat around looking a bit sulky and uncomfortable. Can't see this relationship lasting much longer at all. He just brings me down. I ignored it mostly. We girlis all agreed it was probably the best party we'd been to in Rwanda. Most excellent.

I got home and was just sorting the cats out when I accidentally kicked my own foot and split my toenail! Ooooouuuuuch. Really hurt, and it's broken halfway down. No idea what to do about it. I've disinfected it with iodine, but the doctors here are scary. I will just leave it for a while and see what happens. It may be the end of my dancing days for a bit :(

I didn't get a good night’s sleep either for some reason. Some git was playing really loud music at about five in the morning and D kept elbowing me. I'm grumpy this morning. I want my house back to myself.

I've got a little extra income at the moment. We're not supposed to do that, but it's earnings off capitalist greed and I want to use some of it to help Rose get her daughter into school. It's £15 per 600 words ghost writing financial articles on credit cards and loan options. As they say 'hardly spiritual,' but I'm not complaining. Doing better than Suite101 which, after almost a month, has made me a grand total of $2.60 - that's around 1c per article.

Also boiled my water filter candles for the first time in six months. Stuff was starting to grow in there lol

On the whole, ticking over okay, but do eventually need to sort the fella situation out. Pretty fed up with it.

Léon's Wedding

It was a wonderful day. Martine came over to mine beforehand and we got dressed together, then went to find a taxi. People were beeping and shouting to us in the streets saying that we looked good. As Martine said, "We couldn't have been more noticeable if we were naked." Two muzungus wandering about in traditional Rwandese dress caused quite a stir, but all very complimentary. One woman slowed down as she drove past, rolled down her window, and gave us the thumbs-up. It's a huge compliment and people like to tell you when you're looking smart.

 

Me and Martine in our mushananas at Léon's wedding, above.

The official part of the wedding was held in a church in Kigali. Léon and his bride, Janine, were beautifully dressed. The ceremony was in Kinyarwanda, but someone kindly translated into English for Martine and myself.

Léon & Janine

Afterwards, they went to the Wedding Roundabout in town, which is the traditional venue for couples to have their wedding photographs taken. All of the guests walked to the reception hall. When the couple finally arrived, everyone stood and cheered to welcome them.

There was a six-tier cake stand and, after the couple cut the cake, they fed each other a little bit before passing cake out to all of the guests. Then the entire wedding party: groom, bride, maids and family, sang to the guests. It was a really beautiful song about what a happy day it was and how lucky the groom was to have such a beautiful bride.

Afterwards we had the speeches, including two wise men whose job it is to assist good communications between the families. Then it was time for guest speeches. These included Augustin, my boss and Léon's elder brother, and... myself!

Augustin pulled me aside just before the couple returned from photos. He asked me to make a speech! There were about 200 people in the hall! I was a little flabbergasted to be asked, but it was a real honour and I was proud to contribute to their big day. When my turn came I had a guy next to me translating into Kinyarwanda. I received a massive round of applause at the end.

It was a brilliant day. Martine and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

I returned back to work on Monday and, unfortunately, things went a little downhill from there. I discovered that my boss had cancelled the IT training whilst I was away, saying they should wait for me to return. However, the room had already been paid for in advance, so that was FRW 75,000/£75 down the drain. Never mind, not the end of the world, but a bit exasperating on the first day back.

It's now been ten days since I returned from Kampala and D still hasn't followed me. He's somewhere out there in the ether, using up the last of the holiday money on renewing some 'papers' - which I take to mean either travel or work documents. Basically, he's done an E on me. At first we texted and called each night, he's telling me he misses me and can't wait to be home, but I've come to the end of my tether now and just don't answer. "When will you be back?" - "Soon." And we all know what that means in African time. I just can't be doing with it anymore. I'm the girlfriend of an invisible man. I've become quite close to Rose recently, too. She's E's ex-wife, the lady who made my mushanana. Even she said that D's persistent absence was a little weird, African maleness accepted. It was interesting to hear that from her as she's known D for years and, being Ugandan herself, she knows what's normal.

Since E abandoned his family, Rose has been bringing up their two kids on her own. One girl aged three years, and one baby boy of about five months. There's no income as unemployment is rife. My last dress order paid her rent this month (£30) and her girl can't start school because she hasn't made the fees yet. £10 per term, three terms a year. Rwanda has no welfare system. If you don't have any money you don't eat.

I really feel for Rose, and I like her as a person. She's a very strong woman. We've started talking about setting up an NGO for single parents. She says there's a lot of them in Kigali with no support; all in the same situation. I know one of my Deaf colleagues whose wife left him (for being Deaf) with their baby daughter. He isn’t employed, so he had to leave his daughter to be brought up by family three hours away. Heartbreaking. There’s a definite need for a support system as none currently exists.

We're in the process of looking up how to register an NGO with MINALOC, but it's not easy. Any support people would like to give would be hugely appreciated. I was going to help D and his friend Morris set up a Ugandan kid's NGO but, at present, I'm not convinced they could organise their way out of a paper bag. Rose is both driven and smart, she's even learned Kinyarwanda in the three years she's been living here. She'd be a brilliant spokesperson and the need is very real.

Watch this space.

Last night I went to Hannah's leaving do at the Ethiopian restaurant. It was a really good night - tons of food. Alicia's also leaving. Loads of people cutting their placements short. It's starting to feel a bit quiet around here. Ginette and Viv have also gone home early - four people this month.

In an ironic tale of lizard's revenge, Sula brought in a different type of lizard the other day and set about eating it. Ten minutes later, she projectile vomited the most impressive lump of bright-orange foam you've ever seen. Having just watched this, Mao then wanders over and starts tucking into the remainder! Within seconds he vomits too. They both look at each other, then start eating the vomit! At this point I couldn't take anymore and went to get a cloth... cats are remarkably stupid.

On a final note, I came across someone else's blog of life in Rwanda recently and it's a really good one. You might like to have a nose.

RIP Kabibi :(

I just slept ten hours straight. It was one hell of a journey back. I had to be at the bus park by 2:30am, so I didn't sleep. Instead, D took me for a drink at a bar in Kabalagala, then we returned to G8 to make the most of our last few hours. He'd booked a taxi to get us to the buses. There were quite a few people hanging around the bus park and few people sleeping on the ground waiting for their rides.

The bus that pulled up was a much older version of the one we came in on. I soon realised just how old. The suspension was non-existent, you felt every single bump in that road, and the roads are really not good after years of money squandering regimes. Also, the window latches were all broken so each time we hit a bump they'd open. It was freeeeezing cold. Thankfully the TV remained off, so no Swahili soap torture. Yet so were the lights, so no reading either. D had booked me a window seat, thinking it would be more comfortable. He could never have known about the cold. After a couple of hours we were all changing seats anyway. I settled for the back row. It meant physically leaving my seat each time we manoeuvred a pothole, but at least I could still feel my fingers and toes as it was out of the draft.

Time did go quite quickly, though. I was drifting in and out of snooze mode. The sky became light after about three hours. We stopped at a rest place five hours in, where I braved the conveniences. I'm now a squat-hole master. I almost wore a skirt for just this reason, but I can now pee correctly even in trousers. Glad I'd packed some bog roll though.

By the time we arrived at the border, I had bags under my eyes that I could have carried shopping in. It wasn't so bad this time. I manoeuvred the crowds and started talking to another passenger, Yvonne, as we walked from the Ugandan check-out to Rwandan check-in. She's Rwandese, but living in Uganda as she prefers the lifestyle in Kampala.

We stood around forever whilst customs searched our bags. They were more worried about plastic bags (illegal in Rwanda) than hard drugs lol Finally, got back on board. This gentleman sat down next to me. "Hello," he says. Oh dear, I'm thinking. I've already had one middle-aged gent try and make me sit next to him when I first boarded, I could do without another. "Do you know me?" he asks. Strange question, I shake my head for enlightenment. It turned out he worked for Ezra, D's boss. Aaaah. A few minutes after departure he made a quick phone call. I had a rising suspicion that this was another of D's chaperones, but he later denied it lol

The moment we hit Rwandan soil, I sparked out. I slept the whole two hours to Nyabugogo. There was this amazing sense of relief that washed over me at seeing home turf. I still find it amazing that, in the space of crossing one hill, the entire landscape can change so dramatically. Uganda: land of straight roads and flat plains. Rwanda: land of forest and a thousand hills. It really feels like home now. I know Rwanda. I know its places, enough of its language to hook a moto, how much things should cost, and all those little things that make you feel at home. I took a taxi from the bus park to my door. It had been about nine and a half hours point-to-point. D called just as the taxi was pulling up to our house.

Karzai was in the yard, gardening. The kittens had grown into cats in my ten day absence. I gave him some cash for looking after them and also gave him the day off. I just wanted to be alone to recover.

I hooked up the internet to find dozens of e-mails awaiting me, including some very sad news from Jo. She had two cats: Mweru (mother of my kittens) and Kabibi, their uncle. Turned out that Kabibi had caught a poisoned mouse a few days ago. They didn't realise it was poisoning, they just thought it was a dicky tummy like mine had. He was really ill for two days. The vet was useless, and eventually he died. :(

It's soooo sad. My overriding memory of Kabibi was when I went to collect the kits that first time. The moment we put Mao in the carry basket Kabibi came up and stuck his head under the lid as if he knew what was about to happen. Mao really takes after Kabibi. I'm glad they got to spend some time there when I went on research with work. He was a lovely lad-about-town cat. Now Mweru has stopped eating. So sad. :(

I'm going to do sweet FA for the rest of the day. I'm listening continuously to a song that makes me think of D, even though he takes the piss out of it ;) It's Shaggy's Bonafide Girl ft Rick Rock. In between hitting the 'play' button, I'm rescuing lizards from my cats. Must be open season or something. They've dragged two in already. I managed to save one, couldn't get through the ball of fangs and fluff to the second one though. Bit sad, they're beautiful lizards - babies of that big one that used to live in my tree. When they die they go deep blue :o/

Chew On This

Khat

*sigh* That ‘twinge’ is fast turning into a gut-twisting ache. I did catch up with him at Amakula yesterday, and Joseph. We watched a documentary called War Dance, about the abducted children of the Northern Ugandan troubles. It was really good. I was going to watch the Focus on Rwanda series too, but got waylaid at the bar. D then (surprise, surprise) had to go and find somebody, but we arranged to meet back at the guesthouse in a couple of hours and go to a club.

I went home via Ciao Ciao's, the ice-cream parlour, for some cheap and cheerful grub - chips and sausage rolls - and another beer, which was a mistake as I promptly went back to my room and fell asleep.

I was woken from my delicious slumber by D. It took me a long while to shake the groggy off and get into the shower. I wasn’t sure that I’d make it but, once I got my make-up on, I was funky and ready to go.

We didn’t go straight to the club. We just started walking and went for food and beer at a random bar. Well, I was starting on the soft drinks lol It was weird, we were so ‘together’. He just started talking to me and it felt so natural, like it used to on my porch back home when we were just friends. He told me so much about his life again. Shortly before I’d met him, he’d undergone a four hour surgical operation without anaesthetic! He’d had to scrape the money together. It had been life threatening, but no pain killers! He was describing it and I was going pale listening. So much I see and hear here makes me realise how lucky I was to be born British.

From there, we went to meet up with a couple of his friends - including Metta. They share a tiny room with one large bed down a back alley. We arrived and cramped in to say ‘hello’. My eyes instantly honed in on the little banana leaf wrapper on the floor. "What’s that?" The room smells of strawberry bubblegum and a fistful of light green leaves lie on the banana wrapper.

"Khat."

Long pause. Sound of mastication. Muzungu fidgeting in her chair.

Me: "Do women do it too, or is it just a man thing?"

Metta: "Everyone chews, depends on their situation."

Another long pause. More mastication. Muzungu fidgets, then turns to D.

Me: "Can I try it?"

D: "No."

Me: "Go on."

D: "No."

Me: "Why not?"

Metta passes me the bubblegum, laughing.

"What do I do?" I suddenly feel a bit silly.

By this time D is resigned to the will of muzungu woman. He rolls the length of bubblegum and passes it back. "You need to balance the gum and the leaves okay? Take a bite of this and start chewing. Then break off the leaves one by one and put them in your mouth. Use the gum to grind the leaves up into a ball and suck the juice out."

Discussion ensues between muzungu woman and Metta about different types of Khat and its customs across the world, interspersed with chews.

It’s quite bitter stuff. I can’t say as it really did a lot for me. They say it's a relaxant, but Erowid has it down as a stimulant. To be honest, neither dope nor salvia do much for me either, so I dunno, but I love anything cultural like that. "When in Africa..."

We went into town to Silk, one of Kampala’s better known clubs. D used to spend a lot of his formative youth there. Shortly after we arrived, a circle formed against one wall. A showcase of up-and-coming and famous reggae and rap stars took to the stage. It was wicked to watch. I knew some of them as D plays them at home all the time. Later, he introduced me to one of his best mates, Morris Mohasa, who sings some brilliant and very humanitarian stuff. He did the video against teachers raping students (in which Metta played the rapist). He’s a really lovely guy and wants to set up a child protection project in Kampala to get the arts involved in raising awareness. D had helped him to organise a march before, and wants to stay involved. It might be something we could work on together, try and help Morris find some cash and support.

It was a really good night. We got home, together, at about 2am. I really enjoyed the club, but it reminded me of a scene from Save the Last Dance. I felt a little conspicuous at first. We joke that I ‘glow in the dark’ but no one else there seemed to care, so I relaxed quick enough. I spotted about three older white men by the bar, and two white girls, but I had to double-take as they wore perma-tan so dark I almost couldn’t tell! I find it hilarious that people here bleach their skin to make it more white whilst, at home, we use products to get more brown.

D gets really defensive of me when he hears the ‘M’ word. He’s seen me get a bit pissed off by it in the past and now he gets more upset than I do lol When we were walking to Metta's house earlier, a bus driver had shouted out something with the m-word. I just ignore it now, most of the time, but D grumbled "<expletive> think they can say anything they like about you." I said I’d rather not know what they’re saying about me, but then curiosity got the better of me. Apparently, the driver had been teasing D, saying ‘where are you taking that mzungu at this time of night?’ Dickwad. I almost lost it myself in the club when one old git pinched my arm. I've had this happen before once, when my moto slowed down in Kigali. I have no idea what goes through their brains – probably nothing – but they get a kick out of it. I’m probably the first white person they ever saw *shrug*

It’s kind of cute when D gets upset on my behalf. He left me with his friend at the end of the night whilst he went to get a taxi for us, so I didn’t have to stand around outside. Whilst he was gone, his friend’s brother came over and stood rather too close. Then he started telling me that he really liked British people. "Do you know why I like the British?" - "No, why?" - "Because British women can give love to a Ugandan man that women here can’t."... "Riiiiight."... long pause... Thank Christ, just in the nick of time! D miraculously appears and pulls me out of the crowd.

I told him about that when we got home. He laughed, but he was embarrassed about the way the guy had spoken, brushing it off as a young kid talking. I found it amusing, but remembered the conversation I had with Chabel months ago.  It was about porn mostly starring white women because it isn’t produced in countries like Rwanda. Also, all those images of white women scantily clad in Western movies. He said, of course African men are going to have a skewed perception of white women. Incidents like that just remind me that D is a bit of a babe really. Sometimes he drives me up the wall, sometimes he gets me singing the blues, sometimes I want him to step back, sometimes I never want him to leave my side, but he's always looking out for me. I think I’m one smitten kitten. I guess it keeps me on my toes.

He’s just returned with my bus ticket. It leaves at 3am. I’m looking forward to the overnight bus as it won’t get so hot and maybe the Swahili soap operas will get turned off for a while and I can sleep or read. I'm really going to miss him though.

He’s staying on for a few days more for the closing ceremony of Amakula. Then he’s going on a pilgrimage to his parents’ graves. One is buried not far out of Kampala, and the other is right down on the border near Rwanda. I wish I could go too, but I think it’s probably best done alone this time, plus I have a wedding to get back for. I'm quite excited. This bus means I’ll get back early tomorrow morning, so I’ll have almost two days to prepare. Hope the cats are still alive.

The Royal Prince

It’s been a long few days of ups and downs and very strange experiences.

Thursday, D took me for a wonderful, romantic meal at the Ethiopian restaurant. The food was out of this world, and we drank wine by candlelight in a wonderful setting. It was like a miniature traditional hut built for two. We arrived there riding duo on a moto. You can do that here - fit two passengers on elongated motos. Quite romantic.

On Friday, D introduced me to his cousin (technically Steve & E’s younger brother – family associations are complicated here) Benji, who is studying here. He was the only one of his immediate family to remain in Uganda, until E returned. He’s a really lovely kid, about nineteen, and easy to get on with. We went to Ciao Ciao’s, which is an Italian ice-cream parlour down the road from our hotel, and gorged ourselves on wonderful sweet goo.

Then we went to the National Museum, which is where things started to go a bit wrong. The editor of the magazine D’s writing for is in Kampala. D wanted to drop off some articles, but the arrangements were pretty rushed. He left Benji and I to wander around the museum on our own, before coming to hurry us up. I was a bit miffed by that. Then he piled Benji and I into a taxi that his friend was driving, without telling us where we were going, and buggered off into town to find his editor.

We ended up arriving at this huuuuge, very expensive complex: The Speke Resort & Commonwealth Hotel at Munyonyo. It’s massive, and completely luxurious. But I was rather angry because he hadn’t told me anything about where we were going. He just assumed it’s somewhere I’d want to go. If he’d told me there would be a swimming pool, I would have taken my costume. If he’d told me there were horses, I would have worn trousers. As it was, Benji and I just sat there spending a small, unnecessary fortune on lunch at the restaurant. As nice as Benji is, I felt like I was Childminder in Chief for the afternoon.

D had said he’d meet us there. By the time it got to four o’clock I texted him and he replied that he was still doing stuff in town for a while. Benji and I walked down the road to find taxis. After paying his fare home, I asked mine to drop me off at the Wine Garage down the road from our hotel.

I was not in the best of moods. I’d seen this place on the way for ice-cream, and knew it would make everything better. You don’t get much wine in Rwanda. Here, you get wine, whisky, all sorts. I sat myself down with The Kite Runner (fantastic) and ordered a couple of glasses of yummy red wine.

I was completely relaxed, engrossed in my book, the sun had finally set - when Benji turns up.

Errr... hi again? 

D had sent him to chaperone me!! He doesn’t like the thought of me out by myself, so thought I would be much happier putting down my book, and my glass of wine, and waiting patiently for him under the protection of his young cousin.

I was very polite, but also quite direct, and explained to Benji that I was enjoying a little time on my own and that I was sorry D had made him come all that way back to Muyenga again. Benji is a lovely, but very quiet, young man. He understood, no harm done. I was livid with D, though. It took me another glass or two of wine to return to that peaceful calm I had found before. A couple of hours later, D suddenly appeared at the table. He stayed for all of 20 minutes, then had to go and see someone in town. I walked home. I guess you can imagine the storm clouds building lol

He came back with food, but all was not forgiven. I was angry. I had thought that getting out of Kigali would mean I’d actually get to see something of him.

The next day, I’d come to a decision. It’s my holiday. My first one in six months, and my last until September, when Dad comes out. I was perfectly determined to enjoy myself. D went out for his morning two hour stroll, so I packed up my swimming costume and trousers, and headed back to the Speke resort by moto.

I cannot express how gutted I had been to see the horses and not to be able to ride them because I was wearing a skirt. I have missed horses sooooooooo much. The only person who owns horses in Rwanda is a very rich French woman with no intention of opening a public stable. I’d been dreaming about riding ever since seeing them the day before. The smell of horses took me right back to childhood lol

Speke Resort Horses

I rolled up to the gates of the resort. The guards pulled us over and told us to wait. I looked around, a little confused, to see the President of Uganda arrive in a convoy! We’d literally got there two minutes before he did! So, now I’ve seen the presidents of Uganda and Rwanda :)

There was heavy security at the complex. I had to go through two beep machines, with armed security everywhere. The stables were open, though. I booked a horse for two o’clock, then installed myself at the restaurant for food and cold drinks. Which is when my mum called and we had a lovely long chat. Perfect timing.

The horse riding was out of this world. USH 35,000, which is around £10, for an hour’s private hack. The guide was called Bosco, which was easy to remember as it’s our driver’s name at VSO. He rode a dark coffee mare called Prancer, and I had a grey called Candle in the Wind. Such a nice guy to ride out with, but very unlike anywhere else I’ve ridden in my life. It had been a long time since I was last on a horse – not since Wales. The horses were incredibly calm, with gentle temperaments, but also went for it when you asked. You didn’t have to work hard - no encouragement needed.

The weirdest thing were the roads we went on. They were churned-up mud paths, shot through with deep furrows. The first time we broke into canter, I almost crapped myself. I’d never been at speed like that along roads like those - I was convinced we’d break a leg or something, but the horses were so completely sure-footed and didn’t stumble once. As soon as my confidence was up, I relaxed and enjoyed it. I only held off canter when there were people along the road. It didn’t bother Bosco, but I felt a bit nervous about it with young kids running after us to shout ‘mzungu’ (which is something I haven’t experienced so much here, a lot less than Rwanda). We went along the main road a bit. Again, the horses were so relaxed, even though the driving here is completely mental. It was such a wonderful experience. Managed to get a good canter going.

I returned drenched in sweat. It was a very hot day. I got to meet the first horse born in Uganda – Silver Queen. They’re breeding them successfully at the resort now. I just wanted to bundle a few up and take them back to Kigali with me. I miss horses so much.

I thought about the pool, but it was expensive (about £5) so I started walking around the complex to the exit. I was going to go home and throw myself in a cold shower, but somehow confused myself and did a big loop back to the pool, which I took as a sign. So, I paid my money and went in. 

We’re not just talking a pool. We’re talking a pool. It’s huge. It’s over twice the size of the Olympic Pool (don’t laugh – it’s called the ‘Olympic Pool,' not the ‘Olympic-sized pool’) at Nyarutarama in Kigali. There are even seats so that you can sit in the water and drink your drink. I’d never done that before, so decided I really ought to. I supped my coke and then slipped off my seat and went for a swim.

Speke Resort Pool

I made a really good friend there. His name’s Jeff, and he runs a security firm in Uganda with a branch in Rwanda. We chilled out and chatted for ages, then had a swim – which turned competitive. I beat him by a hair’s breadth the length of the pool - about 50 metres. Between that and the horses, I was absolutely shattered lol We swapped numbers and hopefully next time he’s in Kigali he’ll give me a bell and we can go party.

I’d spent the entire day there, and was completely relaxed. It was a glorious day. Horses, swimming pools, amazing food... exactly what a holiday should be. D sent me one text saying that I could have waited for him to get back from his walk, but I’d already waited an hour and a half. I wasn’t even sure whether he was coming back. He’d said that he didn’t want to come to the resort, he just wanted to order me a taxi so that he knew I’d get there safe. Well, I’m a modern moto woman, I’m perfectly capable of getting myself there in one piece thank you very much.

Ahem. By the time I arrived home, I had a splitting headache starting from the sun and dehydration, so crashed out on the bed and dozed for a while. D got back about 20 minutes after I did. I’d forgotten, but he reminded me, that there was a party.

I forced myself to get dolled up to meet his friends. The party was a house party just down the road. I quickly clocked I was the oldest person there, but they were nice people. One of D’s mates, a guy called Jetstone, was really chatty. There was free drink, and the most wonderful home cooked food. It was real back-street urban Uganda. Then, half an hour after we got there, having just eaten their food, D says "Come on, let’s go. I’ll take you home." - "Take me home?"

Of course, he was going back to the party after!

"Okay, so why am I leaving?"

No straight answer.

"D, in my culture, if a bloke did that to a girl, she’d assume he was going back to chat up some other bird."

He burst out laughing.

"Anyway, how does that look? Strange white girl turns up, eats their food, then fucks off. Not exactly polite."

More laughter. In his culture that’s fine, apparently.

"But you didn’t even ask me. You just said ‘right, I’m taking you home.’ You didn’t ask whether I wanted to stay or not. Why? The other girls at the party aren’t going home."

"I don’t know about the other girls at the party. I don’t know where they come from. But I know about you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Apparently he’s seen their parties before and they end up drinking a lot and getting rowdy.

"Sounds like a normal teen party to me."

He dropped me off, then went back to the party. He returned at 3am. I was absolutely spitting, but pretended to be asleep. It was just beyond my ability to form words. I was scared of what I might say at that time of night and level of tiredness.

We did have a bit of a row after that. Or, rather, I rowed at him and he looked apologetic. He made me feel lonely, and I’d never been lonely on my own. It’s true, I’ve always been very good at entertaining myself. For example: horse riding, a book at the wine bar, meeting Jeff and finding random people to hang out with. I've never had a problem with that. I like my own company. As Mum says: ‘anything after that should be a bonus,’ it should add to the peace of mind and happiness I already have, not bring me down.

What can you do, huh? Is this cultural difference? Is this personal difference? I’m thinking both, but more the latter than the former. My life is so very uncomplicated. His is so very complicated. Do I care enough to give it time? Just when I’m saying ‘no,’ he’ll do something or say something that twinges. You know, that little twinge you get in the tummy when you absolutely want somebody? Hmmm. If it wasn’t for that annoying little twinge, the world would be a much simpler place. But the twinge exists. Therefore, for the time being, so does our relationship.

The next day was fun enough. D took me to a suburb to meet Moma Z, the mother of a couple of his friends. She was indeed the archetypal Moma: a large, round lady, with a headscarf and smiling eyes. He left me with her and went to catch up with his friends. Like most houses here it was a small, sparse room, with a bed and chairs. Though it was a big house because it had a separate back room with three other beds for her sons. She also fed me matoke! I’d wanted to try this because D’s always talking about missing it in Rwanda. It’s the staple food of Uganda: mashed, savoury banana - ibitoke in Kinya. She covered it in sweet nut sauce. It was delicious. Her son, Metta, came in to chat too. He's a nice guy.

Benji caught up with us there. He, me and D went into town to the Film Festival. I really enjoyed myself. We caught a few shorts and a documentary. After each screening, the film makers took questions. D attended a screening and discussion workshop on rape in the Congo. It was a really good afternoon. The National Theatre is excellent.

National Cultural Centre of Uganda

Afterwards, we ended up at a lovely bar with a fire pit. I was loving the music, and really happy, but D decided he would take me home. "No, not this time. I’m happy here. You go home if you like." - "What, and leave you here!?" - "Erm... yes." He pulled a complete sulk and begrudgingly mumbled that I could have another beer. Considering I’m paying for it, too right! 

After Benji left, I kept drinking. When D went to the loo, I set up the pool table and started playing. He came back and watched me for a minute. When I held out the cue, he took it. We played two games. I hate to admit it, but I felt a small, smug smile of satisfaction at beating him both times. Strike one for women's emancipation! Unhealthy, huh?

That night we had another argument, quite a bad one. It was over something quite fundamental. By morning I still wasn't square with it. He left early to go to a photo shoot for this magazine. He asked me to please wait for him to get back, so that we could talk about it. 

The moment he left, I packed up my bag and caught a moto.

There are certain points in your life when you realise your day could have turned out very differently. I could have stayed in my room, moped about feeling hurt and upset, waiting for him to finally decide to come home, and wasted my entire day. 

Or, I could get on with my life and have the kind of day I had...

I started off in town, looking for a bookshop, but ended up getting totally lost and wandering around in circles. My first time un-chaperoned in town. It was crazy hectic and wore me down pretty quick. I was still in a fragile mood, so I ended up picking a book from a street seller and heading to the Post Office. I was trying to get to the Royal Tombs, but the moto drivers all looked blank. I didn’t have a guide book, but D had mentioned something about Tourist Info at the Post Office. Kampala doesn’t have a Tourist Information Bureau, unfortunately, but I eventually found someone who helped me by writing down where I needed to go: Kasubi.

Kasubi by rajarajaraja

I took a moto there and paid my entrance fee. The guide who came to show me around was this nice young guy of twenty, very studious and knowledgeable about his subject. We went into the huge grass building and sat on the mats by the tombs of the previous three Kings (Kabakas) and first president of Uganda. He explained all about their lives, and the stuffed leopard, which was a pet of the first king. 

Stuffed Leopard

Then he taught me to play omweso, a game a lot like mankala (play mancala snails here!) but with a bigger board. Apparently, if anyone can beat the King they get a piece of land in Uganda lol

The King of Uganda was reinstated in 1993, and my guide is his nephew. His grandfather, who brought him up, is the son of Kabaka Daudi Cwa, brother to Mutesa II (the first President). He’s a Prince of Uganda. He’s also an impressive artist. I bought a painting of a virgin dance ceremony that he did on Ugandan bark cloth – it’s beautiful. My souvenir.

I didn’t really feel like going home and waiting for D, but I couldn’t think of much else to do, and was running low on money. Joseph, my guide, asked me where I was going. I said I didn’t know, so he produced the East Africa Guidebook and showed me a few options.

"Would you let me show you?" he asked.

And so began a most fantastic day. We started with a brisk walk, about a mile or so, up to Namirembe Cathedral, an impressive building overlooking the whole of Kampala. As we were leaving, we bumped into someone he knew. He shook hands with me and reiterated that this was a Prince of Buganda lol It was hot. We rested in the shade and admired the view. Then we walked down the hill to the parliamentary building, and I got to walk around inside Parliament and see where everyone sits.

Next, we went to the Magistrates’ Court. Again, I got to look in the courts and talk to a few law students. The judicial process works very similarly to England, and the courts look pretty much the same.

This was en route to the Palace. On the way, we stopped to look at a giant Galapagos Tortoise in the garden of a guesthouse. It was huuuge, and munching away on jack fruit.

We grabbed lunch on the way to the Palace, which was spectacular, but not open as it’s under renovation, after years of war and the exile of the King. We walked around the grounds and looked at the Kabaka’s fire, which burns outside the palace for the entire reign of a monarch. When the king dies, Bugandans say ‘the fire has been extinguished.’

We sat outside the Royal Palace after that, and ate sugarcane - something else I’d wanted to do and never done before. To me, sugar comes in bags. I’d never seen the raw material before, and it was delicious, like white bark that you chew to get the water out.

Kibuli Mosque

Next, we took a moto to Kibuli Mosque. I’d seen it from the palace, and asked what it was. It started raining heavily on the way there. When we got there we were drenched, but he bought us towels and we sat and dried off whilst waiting for the rain to pass. When it finally did, we went into the Mosque with a boy guiding us. It was my first time in a Mosque. I remember Religious Education in school, where I went to a Buddhist Shrine, but not a Mosque. We took our shoes off at the door, then a lady gave me a scarf to cover my head with and we climbed right up the main tower. You really could see all of Kampala in a huge panoramic spread. I like heights, but that was a little overwhelming.

We continued our tour of the religious buildings of Kampala with the Catholic Church at Rubaga. Finally, we took a looong moto drive out to the Baha’i Temple towards Kira. By the time we got there, it was closed. The building itself is beautiful, set in very green and tree-lined grounds.

I was all touristed out by the end. It had been a wonderful day. Joseph took me back to town and found me a moto. We agreed to meet again today at some point. He’s never been to Kigali. I’ve offered to return the favour, and he's offered the use of his car and driver if I’d like to go anywhere else. I’m here for such a short time now, I probably won’t use them. He’s such a very charming young man, with impeccable manners that put me to shame! He insisted on carrying my bag, and walking on the outside of the road so that I was protected from the cars. I didn’t feel worthy of such chivalry lol He’s passionate about African History, so there was lots to talk about. It really was a wonderful day.

When I got back to the hotel, it was empty. D was out, but Agnes, the maid, told me that he’d been in asking for me at around six. I was glad to have some time to unwind in front of the telly, but I was hungry and all out of cash. About an hour or so later D, did come home.I met him with a smile – blame it on the twinge. He unreservedly apologised for the night before, then, my hero, he walked all the way back to Kabalagala to get chicken and chips. We had a really good night,snuggled up happy again. We talked and kissed and righted wrongs. He’s gone back to Amakula this morning. I’m chilling out, then joining him later, and maybe meeting up with Joseph there.

It’s been a strange holiday. I’ve had some absolutely amazing experiences: the horse riding and the guided royal tour lol A lesson to the wise – never stay in your room and sulk. Such adventures are just outside the door. But it’s definitely been a solo adventure. I just don’t know where D and I go from here. I’d always rather be happy on my own than coupled and glum. I’ve never had a relationship with an invisible man before, but then... well, there’s always the twinge. So I guess it ain’t completely broke - and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. One thing I’ve learned from working in Rwanda, and one trick I give away at Capacity Building, is that, often, the best thing to do is to do nothing. Sit and wait. Learn the game. There is always time to make an informed decision later.