Please note that VSO is in no way connected with or responsible for the content, comments and observations in this blog: these are solely my own in a personal capacity.
Just finishing my first real day at work - so to speak. Turned up at seven, sat around until nine because, apparently, every Monday morning there is a big meeting of all senior staff until nine, so the offices remain locked and the generator off! Then Francois was rushing around telling me how many important things he had to tell me but never actually getting around to doing so. Then he went for lunch and so did I (bread and bananas and water - more about the diet anon). When I got back, it turned out there is a meeting of all primary school principals on Friday and he needed to find out how many of these schools we have 2008 returns for so he could tell the ones we are missing to resubmit their details (surely if they aren't on the computer they exist on paper somewhere? what is the point of getting them to resubmit paper returns if we already have them? Mind you, if some do have them in Excel, it would be worth it all right). Anyway, this meant my trawling through all the files in the computer to see which of them are actually 2008 pupil returns. Turns out 41 of the 65 are on the computer so he is going to try and track down the rest.
Computer skills here are virtually non-existent – I really feel I might be better off teaching everyone basic Word and Excel, if you want real capacity-building. Maybe further anon ...
Domestically, well the guard is turning out to be a .... I was going to say a problem but thatv isn’t fair. I suspect he is even more puzzled by my behaviour than I am by his. Rwandans don’t tend to think of others very much, to be blunt. It doesn’t strike Alexandré (that’s how he pronounces it so that’s how I am writing it) that turning on his radio at full blast at 0530 outside my bedroom window might be something he might think about not doing, if you get my drift. One of my workmates, Jean-Pierre, is going to call in with me later and we can have an interpreted three-way chat. I think Alexandré is trerrified of doing anything wrong so he hovers around me all the time in case I want anything. He knows it makes little sense for me to have a guard who speaks neither French nor English but I am happy to keep him if we can just work out some basic communication! I gave him RWF2000 last night and what I thought were fairly clear instructions to buy kerosene for the stove and lamp (I mean, I mimed it all, what else would I pour into a kerosene stove and lamp!) but as of lunchtime today there was no sign. However, I have found a bakery, a hardware store, a snack and telephoen credit shop and two bars – not bad. The first bar – La Permanence de Gisagara – has a suspicious number of young, extremely attractive young women sitting around in it for no apparent reason. The second (nameless) was more lively. I met a young guy called Walter who is off to Kampala on Monday to seek his fortune and was desperate to try out his English on me (it wasn’t bad, actually). He was there with three brothers, his sister, his sister’s husband, two of his brothers and a clatter of kids. It was really nice meeting them and they hustled away some other local guy who decided that muzungu meant free beer! I have arranged to meet Walter next Friday for a farewell beer before his departure.
Food: well, I can’t cook yet and I don’t think my guard is going to be up to that. Once I get the generator I will be able to boil kettles and so on. With kerosene I can get my stove going. A charcoal stove is cheaper but more work and I don’t have an obvious space to put it in. So I am living on sliced white bread, bananas and peanut butter and water, sometimes mixed with (why did I pick this) concentrated strawberry juice. Not the unhealthiest diet in the world and I am not one who minds eating the same thing day in and day out – up to a point.
Locals: I have to say there has been far less hassle from kids than I expected. A few do shout muzungu as you would expect but generally they are far less intrusive than I had expected in a town/village where no muzungu has ever lived before. Have made quite a few acquaintances, some of whom may graduate into friends (the speed with which they start hinting they might like ‘a present’ is usually a giveaway – so far I haven’t budged). All in all, this is looking like a nice place to live.
Writing poetry strikes me like one way of filling up the inevitable free time that crops up so be prepared to get more inflicted upon you! And to all those who have written offering to send me stuff for Christmas, I will be writing back individually, don't worry. It's just I wasn't sure what I needed yet. However, to anyone who would like to drop me a line the old-fashioned way, remember my address:
Ruairi O hEithir
BP 129
Butare
Rwanda.
Murabeho!!!!
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