Monday 20th to Sunday 26th April 2009: Days 226 to 232 in Rwanda

Disclaimer 1: 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.

Disclaimer 2: Please note that Ruairí writes this blog chiefly for his own benefit and to keep those of his family and friends who might be interested aware of what he is up to. It is long, wordy, rambles at times, and goes into excruciatingly unnecessary detail about things no-one could possibly be interested in. You have been warned. The attention of readers is drawn to the 'Comment' function by which his attention can be drawn to anything you consider extraneous, boring, inappropriate or just plain tedious, or to make suggestions as to what SHOULD be included (like more stuff from me, Alfred!!!)

OK – this is to be the start of a really good three-week period where I will finally be really busy!! I have training all day Thursday and Friday in Kigali with MINEDUC/British Council and then I will spend two weeks with a MINEDUC inspector travelling around secondary schools in the Southern Province assessing the teachers’ level of English. So, it’s clear the desks time here!!

Monday 20th April
Usual morning meeting. The Executive Secretary away, so the meeting was chaired by guy from Good Governance. It was like having a sub teacher in , everyone was giggling and talking all the time, and only 22 out of 42 turned up for the meeting! Spent the day finalising materials for the two weeks of inspections I will be doing when I get back from MINEDUC and also trying to find English stuff I can leave my class to do.

After work I had a quick meeting with the Executive Secretary of the Ndora sector, Bede John to make sure he was OK with what I was doing. Schools are actually responsible to the sector executive, not the District, so it’s important that the Executive Sec of the sector is kept informed and on board. He did inquire whether I had any free time to teach English to the primary teacher of the sector!! I was expecting that one and made a non-committal offer to help and advise in general but not to teach (Alfred: which is exactly what you and Tinks told the District in November and you have been teaching ever since!)

Knee is not too bad but tomorrow will be the test – three hours or so on the moto to visit nine schools. Déo called around Monday night to plan the logistics of the journey: two schools are only accessible by roads that are impassable when it rains, so we will do them first or last depending on the weather. This will actually be the first time I have visited more remote schools by moto, was in a car the last times.

Tuesday 21st April.

In school we studied a book by FSL Lyons, Ireland Since the Famine for our Leaving Certificate history course. I always remember the title of Chapter Three was “Parnell: Zenith and Nadir” which was the first time most of us had seen either of those two words used. Well, that was today. Déo collected me at 1030 and we headed off. The idea was to meet each of the school directors, have a brief chat and give them the details of the formal inspections and training that would be starting the week of May 11th when I got back from MINEDUC work. It went really well – we got Gisanze and Dahwe done before the rain set in, and the rain was never too heavy anyway. There was no director in Gisanze – she was sentenced to 30 years in prison for genocide-related crimes a few weeks ago (Alfred: given that she is in her early sixties, I doubt she’ll be back in that job again) but there was a contable in her place. I got around all the schools and my knee was OK at the end of it. Might have been a different story if it had been three hours straight but I was getting off every 20-30 minutes or so.

I spent the afternoon with each of my English students and their computers, loading up various bits of software that they could practice with while I am away. We are focussing on pronunciation and conversation now, rather than vocabulary and grammar, so they just need to practice and do conversation exercises – it’s amazing how much stuff is available out there on the internet!!!

After work I offered to buy Enock a beer, given that I hadn’t been able to on Sunday! He told me that all the teachers are back in school, and were on Day One, but only about half the students. Some have not returned but many others have been excluded because they came back without the fees for the second term and some still owe some or all the money for the first term. Fees are RWF36,000 per term (€50) which is quite a lot for people here. So some have gone to the church authorities for help, some will be able to pay part and stay on for now and others will just drop out and are unlikely to ever return.

Then I got a text from Charlotte, my Education Manager. MINEDUC had just postponed the project – again. Problems with procurement apparently. Most volunteers here have been through the shouting-and-screaming-and-banging-the-fists-on-the-wall routine at some stage or other, whether in exasperation with the District, MINEDUC, general Rwandan business practice or even occasionally VSO itself, but I had managed to avoid it so far. But this was the moment. Poor Enock was telling me some story about a very minor infringement of discipline by a student in his school and I suddenly responded with a string of curses and imprecations the like of which I doubt he has heard before in English (Alfred: he DID understand though – shows just how good his English is!).

Anyway, I went home and spent a childish and sulky evening making up what MINEDUC really stands for (my Facebook friends will have seen the status updates). I decided to head to Kigali anyway as I had other things to do there and absolutely bloody nothing to do here!! Plus, if the knee still isn’t great, I might go see the doctor.

Wednesday 22nd – Sunday 26th April: KIGALI SOJOURN

I actually had a good time in Kigali, I’m really glad I went up instead of hanging around Gisagara in a pissed-of state. High points of Kigali were:

a) Hanging around with Nidhi. I was going to stay in St Paul but Nidhi offered her place and I stayed there Wednesday and Thursday nights. Long chats, heard about her holiday in Zanzibar (sounds worth checking out) and just generally calmed down (Alfred: Nidhi has a very calming influence on people, must be all that yoga she does). Other highlights included going back to look at the hole I fell into (Alfred: and, of course, the idiot didn’t bring a camera! Will do next time, it’s worth seeing if only for how narrow and deep it is!) and lunch at the Auberge, as Nidhi had said their omelette speciale was considered by Rwandans as being especially good. (Alfred: depends on what you want from an omelette speciale and I’ve watched him eat quite a few since we got here. If you define a good omelette as one into which as much as possible has been crammed without any regard for, well, anything, then this is a pretty impressive piece of work. The omelette contains chips, tomatoes, peas, cabbage, onions, large quantities of cheese in lumps, ham, salami and maybe some other things. Oh, and eggs to bind it all together. Filling it certainly was!!)

b) Program Office: managed to get quite a bit of work done out there as well as catching up with the various staff I know. Charlotte was even more pissed off than me, which I didn’t think was possible. Then she was the one who had to track down ten different people to do this work and has now been told for the second time to ring them all and tell them it is postponed again. Never easy being the messenger!! I also ran into Tina Hewing there and we ended up spending a lot of time chatting. We also established definitely that the project was on hold (I had half expected to arrive in Kigali and be told they had changed their minds and it WAS going ahead!!)

c) Christina’s: Christina Campbell from Enniskillen was on my SKWID training course with me in Harbourne but I swear I have hardly seen her since we arrived here in Rwanda. Anyway, I had arranged to stay with her Friday night in her new house near the American Embassy. I had actually never seen her previous house at all! And a lovely house it is too. Tina and I and Bridget Davies (who was also staying there) had a great evening, but the high point was definitely dinner: lasagne, French bread and really nice red wine. OMG!!! I had completely forgotten the amazing taste of pasta and red wine together. I can’t remember if it was Tina or Bridget who said they wished they had a camera to capture the expression on my face (Alfred: it was both of them, actually).

Christina photographed with Paula at the VSO Cow Dance /Family Dinner in 2008.

I also met her guard/domestique/general helper Peter, a really nice and interesting guy. Christina told us the story about how Sandra, who shares the house with Christina, either lost her phone or had it stolen. When she rang the phone, she got someone who said they had it and would return it for RWF30,000 (€40). So she and Peter headed off to some remote spot and saw two guys with Rwandatel singlets on (they are worn by people who sell phone credit on the street).

Peter went up to the guys and said “OK, it was RWF20,000, wasn’t it?”.
The guys looked puzzled and said “No, no, RWF30,000.”
“OK”, said Peter, “I’ll give you RWF15,000.”
“No way” replied the two guys.
“OK then” said Peter, “how about RWF10,000?”
No response this time, the two guys were just looking at each other in bewilderment.
“OK” said Peter, “RWF8,000 and that’s it” and held out the money.
One of the men took the money and handed over the phone (Alfred: correction – Sandra already had the phone to prove it was still working and was watching Peter like a hawk in case the idea was to make a run for it!). Then Peter leaned over and said “Oh, yes, I forgot about our travel costs” and removed a RWF1000 note from what was there. Then he added “And where is the second SIM card?” The other man jumped and extracted the SIM card from his pocket for Sandra. And off they went.

Later, Sandra was checking the phone to make sure everything was OK. She found loads of pictures of the two men on it – they had passed their time with the stolen phone taking pictures of each other and then handed them all over to Sandra!!! (Alfred: does lend weight to the idea that they were taking advantage of a phone that they had found – hard to imagine ANY thieves would be that incompetent. Then again......)

Christina also told us about some of the experiences she had in Gisoze where the Genocide Memorial Centre is located – while most of us had bailed out for Genocide Memorial Week, she was working flat out throughout and quite harrowing it was too (Alfred: not to mention the two grenade atatcks – you sure ‘harrowing’ is the right word?). More on that at another time, maybe.

SATURDAY & SUNDAY
Saturday was a really nice day. I headed into town to a little cafe/bar/restaurant called Torrerros which I had only been in once ever before. The food is nice but pricey and with small portions and the drinks (other than the coffee) relatively expensive but they have wireless internet access (when it is working, which it wasn’t!) and books and it is dark and cool and relaxed. I immediately ran into Tina and Bridget who I had only left half an hour previously! Anyway, I spent the rest of the day there reading and playing on my laptop (MTN modem only, alas!). I met Sonya and Paula, had coffee and tea (and finished Sonya’s dinner for her – thanks Sonya). I was there over six hours and not once was I offered a bill before I wanted it or encouraged to buy more stuff to justify my ongoing presence. Lovely afternoon!

Around half-past five or so John Simpson from the British Council turned up. I had been trying to catch up with John for quite a while but the poor man has been up to his ears. As well as the challenges of his ongoing work with MINEDUC (Alfred: diplomatically put!) he has just moved his family from Addis Ababa to Kigali (wife, four-year-old daughter and 11-month old twins). He told me that the day they left Addis, they had packed up everything, said goodbye to everyone, got to the airport, checked in their luggage and then, just as they were about to board, they authorities refused to let them take the 11-month old twins on board! Something to do with their needing exit visas (presumably because they were born there they didn’t have entry visas either!). So it was bags off the plane and back to the house to some very surprised people!!! He was looking extremely well on it, I must say! We had a great chat and arranged to try and meet up and catch a cricket or rugby match in Kigali if we could track down here they are played. (Alfred: apparently there is a particularly good Rwanda Women’s Rugby team!)

Jane setting up the decorations at the St Patrick's Day party; Jane and Kieron later on!!

Then it was off for the closing St Patrick’s Day committee party in Jane Baxter’s house. Jane is the Deputy Head of Mission for the British Embassy in Kigali and has only been here a few months after previous stints in China and Sierra Leone among other places. (Alfred: regular readers will remember she hosted an enormous crowd of people for the Ireland-Wales rugby match and a marvellous hostess she was too). We had a great evening altogether – Kieron, Sonya, Paula, Laurie, Jane, Matt, Mory, John from the High Commission in Kampala (Alfred: or was it Nairobi?) and me – hope I haven’t forgotten anyone!! Bangers and mash, chocolate mousse – my family know I’m not a big dessert fan or even a big chocolate fan but this mousse was AMAZING!

Jane had offered me a bed for the night and, I’m telling you, the Serena Hotel can eat its heart out! Coolest single thing in the house: every ordinary Rwandan socket has a UK three-pin socket beside it!! And efficient and fast (Alfred: by Rwandan standards) wireless internet access (Alfred: where was that last week when you needed it, downloading 142MB of OpenOffice at 1.2 kbs!!!). And then after breakfast, Jane – having nothing else to do and wanting to see a bit of Rwanda – drove me all the way down to Butare!! We had a nice lunch in Matar, then out to my village for a quick tour of the house before she headed back to Kigali (she may be a great driver in a nice car but NO-ONE wants to drive around in Rwanda after dark if they can help it!!).

No sign of my guard when I got home but, of course, he thought I was going to be away. Later, my friend Jean-Claude called in and, while we were chatting, Alexandré turned up. So I called him into the sitting-room to get Jean-Claude to explain to him that my travel and work plans had changed and I would be around for the next two weeks after all. Poor Alexandré obviously thought I was going to give out because he wasn’t here when I got home and was in a perfect state of excitement as he tried to explain what had happened. So I found out a lot of stuff that I hadn’t actually asked about. He has bought a pig which he keeps at his family’s house as an investment for the future. Also, his family were eating potatoes that day – a rare and expensive treat – and he had wanted to join them for this.

Eventually I conveyed the idea that I was perfectly happy with his work and everything, or at least I thought I had. Then, Jean-Claude leant forward, tapped me on the knee and said: “I know this boy, he is a Christian.” My response was going to be ‘Well I NEVER would have guessed” (see previous blog entries for explanation if you cannot detect the sarcasm) or “Big deal, so is just about everyone else” but I figured neither was really appropriate in the circumstances. “So”, continued Jean-Claude, “you know I am a Christian too?”. Both previous responses tried to make it to my lips again but I just nodded. “Now, I know that you are also a good Christian man” (absolutely no response suggested itself to that one; I just nodded in acknowledgement of the fact that this is what he said he knew) ”so we are asking in a spirit of true Christian fellowship” (oh hell, what’s coming now?) “that if you ever have a problem with Alexandré or are angry or dissatisfied with his work, you will ask me to come first and explain the situation, rather than going to anyone else.”

Phew! Is that all! I assured them both that I found it hard to imagine such a thing arising but, if it did, OF COURSE I would go to Jean-Claude first. Alexandré then set off on a massive long speech, holding his arms out wide, touching the ceiling and then the floor, then moving his extended arm slowly right-to-left out in front of his body making rippling movements with his fingers. As far as I could tell, this was to indicate that In was the greatest person in the world and he loved me very much. (Alfred: Rwandans never seem to use the word ‘like’ unless their English is really good, it’s always ‘love’ which can make for some interesting translations at times)

Nice to be back home: bananas and bread for dinner and finished a fantastic book by C.J. Sansom called Sovereign, a thriller set at the time of Henry VIII’s visit to York in 1541. If you like that kind of book, this is a must but read Dissolution and Dark Fire first (Sovereign is the third in the series but there is no way I am going to find the other two here!).

END OF MAMMOTH BLOG ENTRY. IF YOU HAVE ACTUALLY GOT THIS FAR YOU ARE ENTITLED TO THREE CREDITS, REDEEMABLE AT ANY MAJOR BOOKSHOP IN KIGALI BEFORE APRIL 30th 2009. THE PASSWORD IS 'RED LORRY, YELLOW LORRY' WHICH MUST BE REPEATED PROPERLY BY THE CLERK FOR THE OFFER TO BE VALID.

Wednesday 15th to Sunday 19th April 2009: Days 221 to 225 in Rwanda

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.

OK – sorry about the long hiatus. Going to try and keep this as brief as I can so it doesn’t get out of hand altogether

DICK EMERY WAS RWANDAN? THE GOVERNOR OF THE SOUTHERN PROVINCE ARRIVES
Wednesday 15th April
I got an early moto and headed straight out to the District Office, rucksack, walking stick and all. My boss had sounded pretty pissed off on the phone the last few times I spoke to him so I figured I’d better get there straight away. When I arrived I realised the reason for his short temper, and it wasn’t me at all, thank God! The District was having a major inspection – a team of twelve inspecting officers had arrived, led by the governor of the Southern Province who is a very respected, senior (and possibly feared) army general. When I got there they were off checking two sectors and were due back for a general meeting of all the staff. So everyone was just a teeny weensy little bit tense, especially as they were already two hours overdue for the meeting.

Eventually they arrived and we all shuffled into the hall. The general wasn’t there at this stage so his aide-de-campe chaired the meeting. It was tough: first the mayor gave a 90-minute report (yes, one and a half hours nonstop) on every department in the district. Then the aide-de-campe or one of the other experts asked specific questions about individual items and they weren’t shy about being quite in people’s faces if there was anything vague or contradictory or just not believable. For example, our district seems to be the only one in Rwanda with declining rates of malaria – they wanted to know if this actually was the case and, if so, how had we achieved this?!

It went on for hours and hours and my knee was getting REALLY painful. And then word went round that the general had arrived, and everyone sat up really straight and looked excited. And in he came, preceded by a number of huge submachine-gun toting bodyguards). He is a short man, maybe five-six (hard to tell with a lot of really tall people around him). He was dressed in trainers, blue jeans, a very pretty lemon-yellow v-necked sweater and a large fringed scarf or shawl that he wore around his neck and thrown over one shoulder. I realised how strongly he reminded me of Dick Emery in various of his shows. He was hugely welcomed and greeted by all and sat at the table, running his fingers through his hair and smiling at everyone. Alexis told me that he was famous for being very down-to-earth and not ever making anything special of his status – this is why he doesn’t dress in uniform on occasions like this but chooses a less formal attire.

After a short while he had to leave again, with a few languid flutters of his fingers at various friends or acquaintances in the audience. It was fascinating to listen to how hugely he is regarded here – everyone was telling me stories later of how impressed they were that he had come there himself and how easy he was to get on with (though I inferred from their stories of how he achieved his rank and reputation that he wasn’t a person to mess around with!!).

The meeting eventually finished somewhere between 2030 and 2100 and I staggered off home in the pitch dark. I hadn’t thought to bring a torch as work usually finished two hours before sunset and this is not a road I had ever done in the dark before. Between the pain in my knee and the rucksack and the stick it was an interesting journey!! But I made it home at last, dropped my stuff, unpacked my bag ... and found a torch in the side pocket!!! What would Alfred have said??

Oh, yes. And one more thing. In the entire four and a half hours or so of the meeting, you want to know how much time was devoted to education? One sentence.

THE RWANDAN CONSPIRACY AGAINST RUAIRÍ REVEALED
Thursday 16th April
One of the fascinating things about the English language is how exactly the same words can mean very different things in different places. Here, in Rwanda, the phrase ‘Sorry, sorry’ is used to indicate sympathy, not apology. If you see someone fall or stumble or drop things or if they tell you some bad news, your response is ‘Sorry, sorry’. This can take a bit of getting used to!

On Wednesday I had travelled by moto or in the dark so Thursday was the first day that people could see me walking with the stick. As I headed to the District office in the afternoon, I passed dozens of people working in the fields and gardens on the way. They are used to seeing me every day but, as I hove into view, slowly, calls of ‘Sorry, sorry’ began to drift towards me from all directions. As I neared the District Office, the cries increased and I began to feel that the entire Rwandan people had been part of some giant conspiracy to make me fall into that hole, but now that they had seen the results of their handiwork, they were regretting it!

The only other interesting thing that happened (apart from extraordinary levels of sympathy, including the mayor and the executive secretary calling round to see if I was OK) was this job application that came in. Actually, it wasn’t an application as much as a request from a school to confirm that they could appoint this person as a primary teacher in their school. Presumably they were either the best or the only applicant for a current vacancy. The applicant (who shall remain anonymous, as shall the school) received the following grades in her A-levels/Leaving Cert equivalent:


Maths F
French C
Kinyarwandan D
English F
Geography F
History F
Physics F
Psychology B
Biology F
Practical B
Result PASS

She would have chosen the teaching option for her upper secondary which is why Psychology and Practical Work feature. This person will also be expected to teach through English: the subjects at primary level are English, Maths, Kinyarwandan, Sciences and Entrepreneurship. The scary thing is not just that this is sufficient to get you a job as a teacher but that that set of grades translates into a ‘pass’ mark! (Alfred:Or maybe that should be the other way round!)

THOM’S BIRTHDAY AND TRAVEL CHAOS
Saturday 18th and Sunday 19th April
As you may have seen from the photos on an earlier posting, it was Thom’s twenty-fifth birthday the weekend before last! Amy, Andy, Thom and I all met up in Kigali for the occasion. We ended up in Auberge la Caverne as St pauls’ turned out to be full; it was more expensive but paid off when we found that the bar opposite was actually a sports bar. The point of the evening was the FA Cup match between Chelsea (my team) and Arsenal (Thom’s team) and finding somewhere to watch football in central Kigali can be really hard!! The food was good too – I had spaghetti bolognese and it was gorgeous; Amy had fish in garlic sauce, the two guys had steaks). And Chelsea won! Not a great display by Arsenal it has to be said – I actually think Thom wasn’t too disappointed as Chelsea were a lot better (See photo of Thom the day after for evidence to back up this assertion).

Friday was Thom’s actual birthday – brunch in Bourbon and presents (see photos). He seemed pleased with his elephant and Matar gift certificate!! Then I headed off to catch a bus to Butare. And this is where the fun started! I had completely forgotten that all the secondary schools were re-opening on Monday and, as over 95% of secondary school students are boarders, the entire teenage and early adult population of the country seemed to be looking for bus tickets. I had got a call from Enock and Enos who were on their way back from Kampala; they had got as far as Nyamagogo outside Kigali and asked me to buy three tickets for my bus and they would be able to get on at Nyamagogo. No problem, I thought.

I managed to get tickets for the 1500 bus and off we set, a little late. However, when we got to Nyamagogo, there were far more people with tickets than there were places on the bus and Enock and Enos got stranded there. I ended up in Butare, my leg very sore again from the journey, and sat in the Faucon waiting for them to come down on a later bus; well, to be honest, praying they WOULD be able to get a later bus, but they did. Felt like a right idiot, even though it wasn’t really my fault!!

SPECIAL POST FROM MONDAY 13th APRIL

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.

DÉO GETS HIS NEW MOTORBIKE!!!

Anyone who has been following my blog por getting my emails will know that one of my projects has been to raise money to buy my moto driver Déo his own motorbike. Déo spent thirteen years in prison after the 1994 genocide but was freed immediately as soon as he was brought before a court - it was a case of mistaken identity (either accidental or malicious, hard to say). While he was in prison, his entire business (a taxi firm) disappeared as did his family house.

Today he works as a moto taxi driver - he hires a bike for RWF 5000 a day and has to earn enough to pay for that plus petrol before he starts making a proft.

When I wrote about his story, a number of people - family, friends and pupils both past and present - responded with offers to help him buy his own machine. In particular, the SUCH group in Rathdown School offered to fundraise for this (and other projects) and I received specific pledges from family members, friends and past pupils from many different places.

The one logistical obstacles was actually accumulating and transferring the funds, and indeed waiting for them to arrive in my account in ireland. Meanwhile, the lease had run out on the bike he was hiring and he was going to have to commit to another three months. So I decided to go ahead and buy the motorbike out of my own funds, knowing that so many of you guys out there had promised to help me!!

So, Monday 13th of April we went to Sameer Hussein's motorcycle franchise and bought a 125cc TVS (see picture above). It was an amazingly bureaucratic procedure, to my surprise - it took three hours to buy the bike and then Déo had to go up to Kigali Tuesday and spend all day doing even more paperwork. But he looked really happy!! He asked me to say 'Thank You' to all who contributed and is going to compose a specific message for me to send (I'm not sure exactly what his literacy skills are to be honest so I don't think emailing people directly is going to be feasible for him - I have noticed that he always rings me rather than texting, even though ringing is much more expensive).

So, if you are contributing to this fund you will have received instructions already on how to do so. If the fund is oversubscribed (hopefully!) I will circulate details of the other projects I am considering (including a new one to provide electricity to a secondary school). If you are reading this for the first time (or missed the details in earlier blogs) and would like to contribute to this or any other of my projects, please email me at roheithir@gmail.com for details of either projects or how to contribute. And, again, can I thank all those who have either contributed already or are in the process of doing so - I know times are hard for everyone at the moment but even a little can make an enormous difference out here!! Murakoze cyane!

RUAIRÍ’S ADVENTURES ON THE WAY BACK FROM UGANDA (Part 4)

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.

Friday 10th April
Hmmm..... the journey back was a bit of a trial compared to heading to Kampala. Bus was packed with a lot of small children who, it has to be admitted, were astonishingly quiet and well-behaved in the circumstances. One little three- or four-year-old spent the journey on the floor beside my seat as there wasn’t space for him anywhere else. We also came back through Nyagatare which is a longer way and, once we crossed the border, we stopped at EVERY SINGLE PLACE, I kid you not. Seven and a half hours to Kampala, twelve hours coming back.

The high point was the onboard videos. Again it was some soap opera or other in English but, instead of being either subtitled or dubbed, this was dubbed in a special Rwandan way. Whoever was doing the voiceover didn’t speak while the actors were speaking but, during the pauses between bits of dialogue, would shout out either a résumé or a translation of what had just been said. And I mean SHOUT! Sometimes there was an overlap so I suppose the shouting was to make sure he could be heard over the original dialogue, I don’t know. This went on for hours. Els and I tried to ignore it but every now and again the entire bus would erupt in applause or hissing or something and we would begin to think we were missing something good, but God knows what it was!

The other nice thing (Alfred: OTHER? As opposed to what?) was crossing the border into Rwanda – I really felt back at home again! There was a laughable customs check, where the only thing they seemed interested in was plastic bags (and the ones that were confiscated were promptly snaffled by the locals anyway) and some Ugandans who seemed astonished that nobody could speak or understand English. The passport check was also interesting – the guy passed along the bus checking we all had our visa stamps. When he got mine, he said:’ Irish? Northern or Republic?’ which showed a greater knowledge of Ireland than any other Rwandan I have met (most think it is actually Holland). When Els handed over her British passport, he asked her: ‘And how is the Queen doing these days?’. Nice to see a man who makes an effort with his work!

And that was pretty much that. The 12-hour journey was a bit heavy going (Els is now reconsidering following Nidhi’s example and taking a 36-hour bus journey to Zanzibar!). She headed home to Nyamata, a place I must visit sometime (Alfred: it’s a barren desert, apparently- it’s where they send people who are being internally exiled in Rwanda!) I booked into St Paul, met Andy who was up to meet Tiga who is returning Saturday, had dinner and went to bed!

Saturday 11th April

Lazy day. Long breakfast/lunch at Blues where we ran into Sonya, Paula, Ozzie Christine ... and Irish Joe! This was really nice as it is only the second time I have actually met Joe O’Toole since I got here. We sat around for hours chatting and doing absolutely nothing!!

The good news was that I had changed all my bandages etc that morning and the infection seemed completely cleared up. Still a bit sore but nothing too bad! I also got to wear my Ugandan clothes (pictures on the way, actually one there already).

Met Marion for dinner at the Chinese near Novotel and we had a really nice evening (Alfred: YOU had a really nice evening – I think we’ll let Marion speak for herself) chatting about everything under the sun: dream universes, mushrooms, psychedelic drugs, plot construction, why the Bolivian president is on hunger strike, books, the world of the deaf, the Bröntes, goodness knows what else.

Sunday 12th April
Spent the major part of today working with Ruth, one of the Education managers who is submitting her master’s thesis and wanted some help. Deadline is .... tomorrow!!! We ended up spending seven hours working on it in Simba Restaurant (Alfred: and very patient the staff were about it too!). She could do with a few more weeks to tidy it up but, hey, deadlines are deadlines.

The BIG news today is that Tiga is back!!! Met her and Andy for breakfast and she gave me a big bar of hazelnut chocolate and some shrink-wrapped real Parmesan!!!! Wottagal!

Monday 13th April
Down to Butare, checked in at the Ineza for two nights. Leg is better but still not great and I definitely don’t feel up to the moto ride to Gisagara. Rang my boss, François, to tell him. He sounded rather pissed-off and short on the phone. Suppose I have been gone for ages all right, or maybe (as one or two other volunteers mentioned) would have liked me to hang around for the Genocide Memorial stuff. Hard one to call that – I know it would show solidarity and all that but everyone I spoke to who stayed last year were adamant that getting out was the best option.

Anyway, I spent the day reading. I have finally got back into using my Palm Pilot again (Alfred: for those of you who may have missed this item 120,000 words ago, Ruairí brought a Palm Pilot – small, hand-held electronic diary – with him. It has a 2GB memory card and he has around 400 books stored on it) and have read a ton of stuff:

G. K. Chesterton, The Innocence of Father Brown, The Wisdom of Father Brown, The Man Who Knew Too Much.

McDonald, Fenian Raids on Canada (account of the Fenian invasions of Canada from the USA in 1867 and 1870)

James Joyce, Chamber Music

H. G. Wells, The Invisible Man

Oscar Wilde: Lady Windermere’s Fan, An ideal Husband, The Importance of Being Earnest, A Woman of No Importance (all read on the bus on the way back from Kampala!)

The Suppressed Gospels and Epistles of the New Testament

The Book of Mormon (Alfred: OK, he skimmed through it to be honest. Highlight is 2 Nephi 5: 21-25, worth it for that section alone!! I still think the South Park version is better – check out www.yoism.org/?q=node/307 and also www.yoism.org/?q=node/233 for their piece on Scientology, which is also brilliant!)

Crime and Punishment (Alfred: read this because his dad really liked it, but gave up two-thirds of the way through; wonder what did happen to Rashkolnikov in the end?)


Have now started Tom Sawyer which I am enjoying enormously. Lazy Butare day, lunch in Matar, beer in Faucon, early bed, tried to rest leg as much as possible.

(Alfred: actually, a LOT more happened on that Monday but he’s saving it for a special blog entry later!)

Tuesday 14th April
Seriously bored at this stage. Thought of heading home to Gisagara and being bored there but the leg is still dodgy so there wasn’t really any point. Anyway, Chelsea are playing Liverpool tonight in what should be a formality of a second leg and it would be nice to see the game if possible. Met Tiga and Andy for coffee, dinner in Aux Délices Éternelles (OK, but doesn’t quite live up to the splendour of the restaurant’s name) and then met Andy for the match.

I had seen a flyer saying the match was on in the Millennium Sports Centre – had never heard of the place but it sounded quite grand and I was told it was up beyond the post office. Andy and I headed up and he noticed a crowd of people actually in the post office grounds itself. Sure enough that was it – the Millennium Sports Centre turned out to be a room with a projector, not unlike a parish hall in rural Ireland or England. There were well over a hundred people crammed in when we got there but we managed to get seats, and about another fifty came in after us until the guy on the door finally decided he just couldn’t cram any more people in.

Soccer fans will know the result, non-soccer fans aren’t interested so suffice to say it was one of the most exciting matches I have seen in ages. Andy also enjoyed the night overall, despite being neither a Chelsea or Liverpool fan (Alfred: Come on Kilmarnock!!!!!). His enjoyment of the occasion was tempered somewhat by his neighbour. He was a short, stocky man, a bit like Gladstone Small the English bowler of yesteryear (Alfred: think of a Rwandan Danny di Vito only a little taller) and was obviously a VERY enthusiastic Chelsea fan. He had also, equally obviously, been working very hard all day and had not had time to shower or change before coming to the match. One gets used to body odour here out of necessity, so it takes something out of the ordinary to break through one’s consciousness – but this was definitely out of the ordinary. If they ever invent olfactory television, this guy will have a career as the ‘before’ guy in the Lynx adverts.

As the match went on and got more and more exciting, Andy’s friend responded by jumping up and down, dancing on the floor and, when Chelsea scored their third goal, taking off all his clothes (well, top half anyway). He also punched Andy on the side of his head, either by accident out of enthusiasm or possibly in an attempt to dull his senses to the assault being perpetrated on them. All in all, the final whistle came as a relief to more than just the Chelsea fans and team!

ALFRED: NEXT EPISODE – THE RETURN TO WORK, THE RWANDAN GENERAL ARRIVES, THE GREAT RWANDAN CONSPIRACY AGAINST RUAIRÍ REVEALED, WHAT HAPPENED TO EDUCATION?, CHELSEA-ARSENAL, THOM’S BIRTHDAY PARTY AND DOWNLOADING OpenOffice.org AT 2kbs!!! TUNE IN SOON!

PHOTOS - BLOG WILL RESUME SOON

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.


Alfred: I don't know about you guys but I was getting a little tired of this insanely detailed description of the holiday. So, here are some photos for a change, a few of Kampala but mostly of

THOMAS STEPHEN LEE'S BIRTHDAY!

Yes, Thom has reached the staggering age of 25, an historic milestone that needs to be recorded here for posterity. We also have a memo of the Chelsea-Arsenal FA Cup semi-final (sorry Thom) and a visual record of the aftermath of Andy's having been mugged by the Butare Scissors Bandits.











Kampala street scenes: unbelievable traffic and pollution to match.









One of Kampala's many impressive mosques




Another mosque. In the second photo, all the pollution you cann see hanging in the air was produced by just ONE bus that you can see disappearing into the distance!









Me outside the Faucon with walking stick and Kampala shirt!






The reading of the birthday cards. The two former Serbian mercenaries we hired to protect Thom on his birthday can be seen in the background.




Thom gets a Matar gift certificate (the only one in existence) and HIS VERY OWN ELEPHANT!




Before Arsenal-Chelsea; the morning after Arsenal-Chelsea (strange - the expressions seem to be out of synch?)





Andy looking cheerful outside the Hotel Faucon, recovering from his traumatic experience

RUAIRÍ’S ADVENTURES IN AND ON THE WAY BACK FROM UGANDA (Part 3)

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.

Wednesday 8th April – Friday 10th April

Wednesday
Amy and Eric were heading off so I decided to move to the Backpacker’s Hostel. The Luzan was Ok but there was nothing there or in the near vicinity and the way my leg was feeling, the Backpackers Hostel sounded a lot better – nice grounds, a bar and food, books – the kind of place you can just hang around and chill out if you don’t feel like doing anything. And a nice place it was too! Nice grounds, monkeys and cats and birds wandering around, managed to get a single room rather than a dormitory (only 20,000 shillings as opposed to 15,000 for a dorm - €8.50 per night instead of €6.50) and settled down for a coffee. The only slight drawback was there were about a dozen other VSO Rwanda volunteers staying there! On the way in the gate I met Soraya and Els; after an hour Bruce, German Tina and Epi turned up. Then I met Sarah and Amalia who were off to meet another six or so who were also staying there. I felt I should be in a seminar somewhere or taking part in one of Chris’ famous warm-ups! Soraya came back later and appeared to have bought her own weight in clothes, and not for the first time!

I hung around in the garden having a beer and reading an interesting book I found: When Hens Begin to Crow by Sylvia Tamale, a study of the role of gender in Ugandan politics in the eighties and nineties. Really interesting if somewhat depressing. Ugandan papers today don’t suggest things have really improved since she wrote the book, where women do at least seem to be taken a lot more seriously in the political arena in Rwanda!

Anyway, it was nice to just chill out and be there and not have to worry about the leg. I had rung Pamela Uwakwe the previous day (a former pupil of mine who is married to the Irish Ambassador here in Kampala and works for Tullow Oil in Uganda) and she said to call around for dinner Wednesday night. Great address: 1, Malcolm X Avenue! I went into town, changed some travellers cheques and then met up with Amy and Eric in a fabulous café called One Thousand Cups of Coffee (or something like that). Really nice place and really good coffee. Then I got a moto out to the Ambassador’s Residence!

Needless to say, Kevin and Pamela’s place is absolutely stunning, really beautiful house, pool, lovely high ceilings and loads of bookcases and bookshelves, all full! First time I have seen that since I left Ireland, made me feel homesick for my sittingroom! It was a really wonderful evening – fabulous food (including smoked salmon on brown bread – talk about one thing you definitely can’t get in Rwanda!) and wine and great conversation. It was great to get a chance to catch up with Pamela again.

The fun part came when I needed to go home. Needless to say motos/boda bodas don’t trawl the embassy district at night hoping to find an ambassador or consul walking around looking for a lift. So the unfortunate guard was dispatched off to see if he could flag down a taxi somewhere, which he eventually did. Apparently I am the first caller to the house that hasn’t had their own transport! (I also noticed that the guard was smart enough to ask the taxi driver for his card which he put away carefully in his wallet).

The only slight downside to the timing of everything was that I missed Chelsea’s amazing 3-1 victory over Liverpool at Anfield – the result was on the screen when I arrived back in the Backpackers’ Hostel. Ah well, never mind, I can always catch the formality of the second leg.

Today was also the day the doctor had recommended changing the bandages on the main wound but I figure I’ll do it Thursday as I need to get some additional bandages etc. Also one side of the bandage seems a bit greyish looking – wonder if I’ve caught an infection or something?

Thursday
Noisy night! The trouble with a Backpacker’s Hostel is that people are coming and going all night, arriving on late flights/buses or getting early ones. It’s not that people were being noisy, just that noise really carries in this place. Got up and looked at the bandage. One side definitely doesn’t look too good but it is incredibly well strapped on with acres of sticking plaster. I’m afraid if I rip it all off I might start the wound bleeding again (Alfred: avoiding the excruciating pain is, of course, nothing to do with it!). I’ll head into town and get scissors, proper shiny bandages that don’t stick to wounds and whatever else I need.

Breakfast: ah!! I ordered The Works Breakfast. It was (wait for it): two rashers, two suasages, two fried eggs, baked beans on toast, grilled tomato and some pineapple. Oh, and half a banana and a grilled onion as well. I have annoyed so many people back here by telling them about this (Alfred: sorry Andy!).

Els is heading to the cinema today and asked if I wanted to come along – the CINEMA!!! Wow! We have no idea what’s on but it doesn’t matter, a real cinema!!! She is heading back to Kigali tomorrow morning so I said I’d go with her as, with my leg in this shape, I’d rather be back home than here in Uganda.

So off into town I went, wandered around some shopping areas, went to a bookshop and bought three books (two by Chinua Achebe, one by a Kenyan writer entitled The Last Plague (can’t remember his name) and then off to the cinema to meet Els and two American friends, Carrie and Mary. We saw ‘The International’ starring Clive Owen and Naomi Watts. It was crap – a kind of a ninth-rate Robert Ludlum plot which was either creaky or downright unbelievable the further it went on. I remember seeing Clive Owen in some weird King Arthur film (also the first time I saw Kiera Knightley) and thinking he couldn’t act. (Alfred: the script didn’t help. Lines like: ‘Some bridges you cross, some you burn. This is one you burn’ didn’t exactly help). Now I know it. But who cares!!! I was in a cinema for the afternoon (the fact that the projector was set up so that all the subtitles got chopped off the bottom actually made the film more enjoyable, IMHO).

When I came put I decided to head for a pharmacy and find some bandages. The Uchumi supermarket was fabulous – just like Dunnes or Tesco’s - but the pharmacy didn’t have the bandages I was looking for. They said they were out of stock at the moment but I might find them elsewhere. Coming out I hailed a moto and said I was looking for a pharmacy but then changed my mind and said I wanted to go to the craft market near the National Theatre. ‘No problem’ he said, ‘there is a good pharmacy just beside that too.’ However, no luck: this time the pharmacy owner told me I would only find bandages like that in a hospital. So I bought a scissors, Elsatoplast and some compresses. While we were talking he asked me where I lived. When I told him Rwanda, he asked me if I knew someone called Chris Harvey who taught in Nyagatare Secondary School! The pharmacist’s brother Steve had taught there with Chris but had recently returned to Uganda! What a coincidence – Chris is going to be a bit surprised when I tell him. I mean there are more people in Kampala than in the entire Republic of Ireland – what are the odds?

Then off to the market and I spent ALL my money on clothes (minus what I need for my hotel bill and bus fare). Three nice shirts and a two-piece caftan – the caftan was expensive but there was really only one I wanted and I think the shopkeeper recognised that and wouldn’t budge much on the price.

By now it was around 1800, my leg was aching and I was conscious that I wanted to change the bandages so I hailed a moto. He said iot would be 5000 shillings to the Backpackers because it was rush hour. After a lot of arguing I got him down to 4000 and off we went. Sweet Lord, this was easily the single most insane journey of my life. Right across Kampala at rush hour (actually, not that far across Kampala now that I think of it). It took ages, we drove on footpaths, abandoned building sites, parks, puddles, wherever. I was trying to keep my left leg tucked in which was hard as I could hardly bend it, but here the moto drivers only allow a bare few centimetres of clearance on each side so that is a powerful incentive!!

Eventually we got to the Hostel and I paid him the 5000 he had originally asked for – he had certainly earned it! Then I went in, unpacked and changed the bandage. Oh dear – I won’t give the gruesome details but it wasn’t good. The main wound seemed OK if still very deep and unhealed but a wound to the side which was only covered by sticking plaster and not by the bandage or antiseptic dressing had got badly infected. Anyway, cleaned it all out with Savlon, applied the antibiotic cream I had bought in the pharmacy and rebandaged the whole thing up.

Met a girl called Suse (?Suze) from Guilford in the bar. It was her 19th birthday today – she is working on a HIV/AIDS project for her gap year before heading back to England to go to University. Had a really interesting chat about what life is like in rural Uganda as opposed to Kampala. Answer: much like Rwanda actually, other than the population pressure isn’t quite as severe. Had dinner (good burger) and finsihed Chuinua Achebe’s A Man of the People which was good but not a patch on Things Fall Apart.

I also had a long chat with John Hunswick, an Australian guy who owns the Backpackers Hostel. Bhí John in Airm na hAstráile agus ag obair i Uganda i 1994 nuair a thosaigh an cinedhíothú i Rwanda. Fuair sé cead dul isteach chun cabhrú agus chaith sé cúpla lá in oirdheisceart na tíre agus cuardach trí na cairn corpanna le feiceáil an raibh aon duine fós beo iontu. Go minic bhí, páistí go háirithe agus in ionad filleadh ar Uganda shocraigh sé fanacht agus dílleachtlann a oscailt i Kibungo. Ag an am bhí an RPF ag scuabadh rompu agus dar le John ní mórán smacht a bhí acu ar a gcuid saighdiúirí. Dúirt sé gur mó rud a chonaic sé agus ar chuala sé faoi a chuirfeadh alltacht ort.

Ansin lá amháin tháinig saighdiúirí chuig an dílleachtlann agus fuair siad amach go raibh níos mó dílleachtaithe Hutu ná Tutsi aige san áit. D’ionsaigh siad go fíochmhar é, chaill sé a chuid fiacla tosaigh ar fad, thuas agus thíos (tá cinn nua aige anois buíochas do Rialtas na Breataine, dúirt sé) agus chaith siad isteach i bpríosún é. B’éigean dó $25,000 a íoc sula scaoilfí amach é. Mar sin, id féidir a rá nach bhfuil dearcadh ró-iontach ag John i leith Kagame is a chuid. Bhraith mé an-aisteach ag éisteacht leis ag caint faoi na heachtraí a bhí aige, go háirithe ag cuardach trí na coirp is mar sin. Is gnách dom a bheith sáite in aon chomhrá mar seo, ag cur ceisteanna agus ag argóint (bheadh dearcadh cuíosach difriúil agamsa faoi Kagame, mar shampla). Ach measaim gurb é seo an chéad uair ar labhair mé go pearsanta le duine a bhí i lár ruda mar seo faoi na rudaí a tharla (ar ndóigh bhí go leor de mo chairde Rwandacha mar an gcéanna ach níor labhair éinne liom faoi fós). Bhraith mé … bhuel, easnamhach nó uireasach ar bhealach éigin, ag snámh in uiscí a bhí i bhfad ró-dhoimhin dom. Rud amháin léamh faoi i leabhair, rud eile suí os comhair fir agus é ag rá leat mar ar tharraing sé páistí beo as carn coirpeanna ceithre lá tar éis na sléachta…..

ALFRED: TUNE IN FOR THE FINAL INSTALMENT- THE JOURNEY BACK, ELSPETH, THE RWANDAN WAY OF DUBBING VIDEOS, WEEKEND IN KIGALI, DREAMS AND REAL LIFE AND THE BORDER BETWEEN THEM, AND MUCH MUCH MORE (actually, I need to light a fire under him: things are still happening NOW while he is still writing about THEN. It’s all piling up. And we still haven’t got to the Chelsea-Liverpool second leg – what a night that was, certainly not one that Andy Crow will forget in a hurry!!!)

RUAIRI’S ADVENTURES IN (AND ON THE WAY TO) UGANDA (Part 2)

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.

Monday 6th April

Up at 0700 and walked (slowly) up to Nakumatt to get some bread for the journey. Also bought a copy of Collins Easy Learning French Conversation for Rwf 7.900 to improve my mind on the trip (Alfred: pity he didn’t buy it ages ago – turned out to be just the book he has been looking for, really good. Well, I think so anyway – don’t speak any French myself!). Then down to Nyamagogo on a moto and onto the bus. This turned out to be a big executive bus with lots of legroom and I had booked a right-hand side aisle seat so I could stick my leg straight out along the aisle. Long story short – pleasant nine-hour journey, leg actually felt a lot better afterwards!

On the way I was sitting beside a Rwandan girl called Happy who is a primary teacher but is also studying in the Kigali Institute of Management. I asked her what she was studying – she said ... ‘Management’. (Alfred: like the time Ruairí tried to post a small parcel in Butare and the postmistress gave him twenty-nine stamps to put on it. When he asked ‘Where should I put the stamps?’, she answered witheringly ‘On the parcel’!! His face!!) Happy told me she was getting out of Rwanda for the Genocide Memorial Week as were most of her friends – she found it hard to understand why anyone wanted to relive and recall the events each year.

First impressions of Uganda were – how empty is was!! In Rwanda you are so used to every square inch being cultivated or occupied; here there are huge swathes of empty plains, with the odd farm dotted here and there. Also, the potatoes are much bigger – strange thing to notice but the potatoes, at least where I live, are tiny little things! When we crossed the border at Gatuna (sp?) there were women on the Ugandan side selling potatoes and they were enormous!!

At Gatuna we had to go through Ugandan immigration. Now, I don’t know if I mentioned this before but there is a curious anomaly in Ugandan immigration procedures. Citizens of the East African Community do not have to pay for a visa but everyone else does – Americans, British, Canadians, French, Belgians, Japanese, whoever – except the Irish. No one knows why and I haven’t even been able to come up with a convincing theory (Alfred: All suggestions – or preferably the truth – welcome!). Gatuna was a pretty shabby place, crawling with money changers and beggars but we got through it pretty much as fast as could be expected.

The quality of housing also improved immediately we crossed the border – not there weren’t some houses like those in Rwanda but the general standard was much higher; even the smaller towns were all electrified with proper banks and shops and offices.

And finally to Kampala – big, sprawling, dirty, absolutely jammed with traffic. It had taken me half an hour from the border into Uganda before I figured out we were actually driving on the left now – Kampala knocked a big hole in that theory as everyone seemed to drive wherever they liked. OK - the lorries, buses and most of the cars did keep to the left but some cars and ALL the motos (here called ‘boda bodas’) drove pretty much wherever they liked, or (more to the point) wherever there was space. Amy and Eric had booked me into their hotel and Amy rang me and gave me instructions. It was actually only a few minutes from the bus station but I managed to overshoot and walked on for ages, all downhill, which I then had to reclimb (Alfred: this can be explained that, due to recent events, Ruairí walks around staring at the ground in front of him all the time and doesn’t look to the left or right). Anyway, found hotel and dumped stuff. The room was fine and the shower actually had hot water (Alfred: Emmm, Ruairí, hotels are supposed to have hot water, get a grip). Then I met up with Eric and Amy and, guess what! They had a present for me – a walking stick!!!

Now, I’m not exactly sure whether this was intended as a joke or not (Alfred: Duh, I wonder .....) or whether Amy was making up for the laughter (which she was still prone to bursting into from time to time whenever I reminded her of what had happened, which was pretty much every time I moved!) but it is fair to say that this may be the single most useful present I have ever been given in my life. Simple black African hardwood stick with a rounded top – exactly what I needed and proved invaluable over the next few days. Thanks guys!

We headed out to eat and found ourselves in a place called the TUHENDE SAFARI LODGE where we all had .... wait for it, fillet steaks! Ah yes, best meat I have tasted in, well a hell of a long time. Fried vegetable thingies with dip, tiny portion of cabbage soup, steak with mash, gravy, carrots, salad, garlic bread, some other stuff as well and then fresh fruit salad in cream for dessert. Total cost 12,500 shillings, or Rwf 3,800 or just over €5. Beers came in at 3,000 shillings each for 50cl bottles (Nile Special, gorgeous beer) or just over €1 each.

Another thing that suddenly dawned on me as we sat there was that the music that was playing was actually nice! If there is one thing I have really got used to in Rwanda it is the absolutely crap music that is played loudly everywhere you go. This place was playing really nice Latin American music and it was SOOOOOO nice! And the owner came around all the tables to check that everyone was OK and if we needed anything – like being in Paradise!

Tuesday 7th April
Amy and Eric headed off to Jinja at the crack of dawn this morning. I staggered out of bed much later – my leg was really sore, no doubt due to the bus trip and the amount of walking I had done. However, getting on a moto or anything that involved bending the left leg at all was sheer agony, so walking it would have to be. But first to breakfast!! Ah yes, breakfast was actually included in the room price and it was easy to see why. It consisted of: a) one mug of hot water and a tea-bag b) one egg (Amy had referred to it as ‘slightly dodgy’ and I could see why) c) two slices of bread and a knife with a miniscule lump of margarine already on the blade. This is where Rwandan food began it’s fight back – what I wouldn’t have given for a nice omelette! (Alfred: while we are talking about the hotel – Hotel Luzan by the way, near the Kigali bus station – a few other peculiarities: the staff never smile, which is par for the course in Rwanda but unusual here; the bed is huge but has two mattresses running horizontally rather than vertically so there is a hole under your hip; the toilet has a shower-head attached to the wall and a drain in the floor, so basically you sit on the loo and let the water pour down on you! Comfy bed and clean room and only 28,000 shillings or about €13 for a double room and very handy for the bus station .... but .....!).

So, what is Kampala like at first sight? Rather than give a blow by blow description of the day (which would be unutterably tedious) here are the highs and lows:

Things not to like about Kampala
1. The moto/boda boda drivers: they are completely insane. They drive like lunatics, none of them wear helmets and in all the time I was there only one had a helmet for the passenger. They drive on the wrong side of the road, on footpaths, through parks, and pay absolutely NO attention whatsoever to the traffic police (what a s**t job THAT seems to be). They also have an insane system of calculating fares, though that’s not so different from Kigali, I suppose.

Things to like about Kampala:
1. The moto/boda boda drivers: they are amazingly good drivers. After a few days in Kampala I realised that it’s not the boda boda drivers who are insane, it’s the traffic itself and they have just adapted their behaviour to cope with an irrational and dysfunctional system. The fare structure (allowing for bargaining etc) actually makes some sense. You will pay up to twice as much for a boda boda at rush hour as it will take easily twice as long; you also pay extra for going on a route that is primarily uphill instead of downhill. All boda bodas carry two passengers if necessary – not an experiment I tried at any stage!!

Things not to like about Kampala
2. It’s really dirty – not so much litter and stuff lying around, though there was plenty of that, but air pollution. Kigali isn’t great but this was incredible. Especially because there are so many motorbikes. Also lots of buses and lorries and their engines seem to be even more poorly maintained than in Rwanda (Alfred: which is REALLY saying something, believe me!).

Things to like about Kampala:
2. I was invisible. In a city where there actually seemed to be fewer white people than in Kigali, no one gave me a second glance. Not once in my entire stay did I hear the word muzungu. No one tried to sell me anything, no one begged, you could go in and wander around shops without either being harassed to buy stuff or followed around by two suspicious shop assistants as if you were about to steal the entire contents of the store!

Things not to like about Kampala
3. What is this obsession with clothes shops? Just how many clothes do they buy? Row upon row of clothes shops and no cafes or bars or restaurants – well, very few by comparison.

Things to like about Kampala
3. It’s a REAL city. They have real bookshops ... and supermarkets (Alfred: I refer readers to my earlier comment about hot water)! I went into one supermarket in the Garden City shopping centre and it was pretty much like being in Tesco’s or Dunnes Stores. Oh, and I went to the CINEMA. Crap film – The International with Clive Owen and Naomi Watts, a dog’s dinner of unlikely and plain stupid plot twists that even the necrophile estate of Robert Ludlum wouldn’t have touched – but a cinema! I think that is the single thing I miss most out here, actually.

Things about Kampala in general
Religion: I didn’t think anywhere could be more religious than Rwanda but that was the impression. At least, there were more religious maniacs around, standing on street corners with Bibles shouting to the heavens and loads of religious books for sale on the footpaths. The best one was when I was having lunch on Tuesday in Antonio’s Food Court (not particularly recommended – African Plate Chicken was the dish: one small drumstick in sauce, rice, chapatti, mashed sweet potato, cabbage, beans and something grey and sludgy called ‘posho’ which tasted a lot better than it looked, thank God). This man came by my table and said ‘Hello brother’ and held out his thumb, upwards. I pressed my thumb against his (guessing, correctly, that this is what he wanted). He immediately sank to his knees and said something like this: ‘Dear Lord in heaven, bless this man and President Museveni and Barack Obama. Keep them from danger and harm and guide their steps on the road of righteousness. Amen.’ Then he took away his thumb and asked me for my phone number. I explained that I didn’t live in Uganda. He was momentarily taken aback and then asked me (surprise, surprise) if I was married. When I said I wasn’t he replied: ’When the day comes that God Almighty places the wedding ring on your finger here in Uganda, I shall be there to bless you.’ And off he went. No one else in the restaurant paid him the slightest bit of attention whatsoever.

Beer: Nile Special is definitely the one to go for. I tried Bells which is fine but very low alcohol, even lower than Primus, so it barely tastes like beer, to be honest (Alfred: Amy said it is called ‘girls’ beer’, so there!). Eric warned me off Club, Pils is Pils as it is anywhere. Didn’t try any others as Nile Special was really good, so why not stick to what you like (and it was cheaper than Mutzig, though more expensive than Primus)

Television: Al-Jazeera seems to be the station of choice. Virtually every bar, electrical goods store, restaurant and so on was tuned to it. They also seem rather fond of weird kung fu type movies, dubbed into a bewildering variety of languages with at least two sets of subtitles.

Reading: Amy had started Amos Oz’s autobiography A Tale of love and Darkness but didn’t like it so I swapped with her, thinking I might like it. Well, it’s heavy going (I eventually gave up two-thirds of the way through and that’s a pretty rare thing for me!) – just one family anecdote after another. There were a few nice things here and there: I particularly liked this quote from his Aunt Sonia about Jewish mothers: “ When it comes down to it, you are just the yolk of the egg, you are what the chick eats to grow big and strong.”

English: it is strange to be surrounded by Africans speaking English all the time. I am so used to NEVER hearing English unless it is being spoken by muzungus or a member of the VSO Program Office. The standard does vary enormously but most people I heard speaking to each other used English, though there were plenty of other languages also and sometimes two or three simultaneously.

Clothes: people are better but not as entertainingly dressed as in Rwanda. One of my favourite pastimes there is weird t-shirt spotting as my regular readers will know, but Ugandans, or at least Kampalans, don’t seem to shop in the second-hand boutiques to the same extent.

NEXT INSTALMENT: RUAIRÍ MOVES TO THE BACKPACKERS HOSTEL: BIG VSO REUNION; DINNER AT THE AMBASSADOR’S; CLOTHES SHOPPING; GENOCIDE REMINISCENCES (as Gaeilge, be warned); UGANDAN ATTITUDES TOWARDS HOMOSEXUALITY (not for the faint-hearted) AND DEMONIC POSSESSION AND TRAVELLING HOME WITH ELSPETH.

RUAIRI’S ADVENTURES IN (AND ON THE WAY TO) UGANDA (Part 1)

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.

Monday 6th April is the beginning of Rwanda’s Genocide Memorial Week. The vast majority of VSO volunteers chose to leave the country on holiday, for Ethiopia, Zanzibar or – in the case of the vast majority – Uganda. This is the first instalment of my adventures in Uganda.


Thursday 2ndApril and Friday 3rd April
Can’t remember anything about Thursday at this stage. I presume I went to work for a bit, and then went home and packed and got a moto into Butare. Amy had already told me the Motel Ineza was full so we ended up staying in the Igizaza (Alfred: it is SO not spelled that way!). Easily the most uncomfortable bed I have slept on since I came to Rwanda (even Soraya’s floor was marginally more comfortable) and at 0530 the staff started work. There were two of them – one washing dishes outside my bedroom window, the other tidying or something on the other side of the courtyard, so they bellowed conversation at each other continuously. We were catching an early bus anyway so it didn’t get me out of bed MUCH earlier than I had planned anyway. Then, as I was about to leave, a guy appears with a tray with breakfast! We had specifically said we would let them know if we wanted breakfast so I said ‘No thanks’, to the consternation of the poor guy whose face clearly expressed the idea: ’Well what the hell am I going to do with this, then?’ Off to the bus, up to Kigali, bought our bus tickets to Kampala, had lunch in the Blues Café and then checked in in St Paul’s.

(Alfred: don't forget the t-shirts! There has been a huge proliferation of Jesus-related t-shirts in Butare recently: "Jesus saves", "Jesus loves you", "I love Jesus", "Jesus is on your team: are you on His?", "Jesus forever" and many more. However, as Amy and Ruairí were going past Matar, he saw one young girl with a black t-shirt with the striking message: "SATAN SUCKS". Is that a different way of saying the same thing? Or did she fall off the Christian wagon for a bit and is now trying to warn everyone else?)

So far so good. I texted Martine to see if she was free for dinner and she, Marion and I agreed to meet up in Muhima, a really good fish restaurant not far from the centre. I got there literally the same instant a massive thunderstorm broke out and it turned out there were no tables available. Anyway, we waited out the rain and they managed to find us a table and we had wonderful fish – whole grilled tilapia – and roasted potatoes with piri piri (hot chillies). Martine headed off early and Marion and I chatted for a while before she hopped on a moto to head home – the deep cut on the sole of her foot has healed somewhat but is sill very painful.

I headed back up the hill and decided to ring Amy and tell her I was en route to the hotel – she had texted earlier to say that Thom would probably be staying in the extra bed in my room. Anyway, I got through to Amy and said something along the lines of: ‘Hi Amy, Ruairí here. Just ringing to let you know that I am on the way back to the hotel and ... aaaaahhhhhh! Crap!!!! Not again!!!’ I had fallen into an open manhole or drainage ditch or whatever (hard to tell in the pitch dark). This is the third time I’ve done this and the first time was also while I was on the phone in the dark.

Anyway, there I was in what seemed to be a narrow hole about four-and-a-half to five feet deep (my chin was level with the road surface). My phone was still intact (Alfred: a bit typical of the new Ruairí that the very first thing he did was check that his PHONE was OK!), my glasses were still on and the only parts of me that seemed to be injured were my left leg (which I could feel bleeding but hadn’t actually started to hurt yet) and my right elbow which I had skinned quite deeply.

A Rwandan guy across the road had seen me plunge in and he and a friend came over and pulled me out, which as just as well as I can’t imagine how I could have got out on my own. I rang Amy back – she was absolutely hysterical with laughter, having figured out exactly what had happened: partly laughing at my having fallen down a hole YET AGAIN but also at the fact that I had managed to keep on talking about what was happening even as it happened. I asked her to pick up some bandages and antiseptic on her way home (three cheers for Nakumatt 24-hour shopping!) and looked for a moto to take me to St Paul’s.

This was my first inkling that my leg might be a bit more damaged than I realised – when I tried to bend my leg to keep it off the ground as I sat on the moto it was really painful. Anyway, a short trip home, got to my room (Number 38, right near the entrance, thank God!) and checked out the damage. Good news – the fabric of my jeans was not broken so there shouldn’t be any dirt or other nasties in the wound. Bad news – the left leg of my jeans was… well, not quite soaked in blood but there was a lot more of it than I cared for (Alfred: 'a lot more of it than I cared for'? Where does he get these phrases from?). Anyway, I cleaned it up with toilet paper and waited for Amy, Andy, Thom and Eric to arrive.

When they did, I probably looked quite a sight, lying flat on the bed with my leg stretched out, my elbow hanging out over the edge to avoid staining the sheets, and surrounded by mounds of red-stained toilet paper! Thom went rather pale, Eric looked a bit shocked, Andy asked me if I was OK and how it felt and Amy collapsed into hysterical laughter all over again, punctuated with apologies for her apparent heartlessness. Her reaction was probably the most appropriate, to be honest, because the sheer stupidity of it all meant it really was the only thing to do (Alfred: personally, I still haven't stopped laughing).

Anyway, I disinfected the wounds, wrapped them in bandages and figured I’d be OK in the morning to head off to Kampala. There only seemed to be one bad wound, just below the left kneecap, so I packed the crepe over that and then wrapped the whole thing up to make sure I didn’t stain the sheets.

Saturday 4th April
Woke up, and took off the bandages. This wasn’t easy as, being crepe bandages, they had stuck to the wounds. I realised immediately that Kampala was not on, at least not that day – it was to be the A&E at King Faisal Hospital. In the cold light of day the other wounds didn’t look too bad but the wound under the kneecap was actually much deeper than I had realised and was still bleeding, not heavily but steadily. The whole thing also really hurt like hell, especially if I tried to bend my left leg at all. So I told Amy and Eric to head off without me and tried to figure out what to do.

What if the hospital were to say there is something wrong, like a fracture or something and I have to stay in Kigali? It was Saturday and the following week was Genocide Memorial Week so I had no idea if the banks would be open or not: so priority one was not the hospital, it was a bank to get money. So I went out to the man road and hailed a moto. Getting on the moto made me realise just what bad shape my leg was in but it was only a two-minute ride to the Bank of Kigali to change my travellers’ cheques.

Or so I thought (Alfred: This is a good one - made me laugh almost as hard as his falling into the hole did!). We got to the Bank of Kigali, slowed for a second, but then accelerated in a completely different direction. I thought he was bringing me round the back or something to avoid the steps (unlikely) but then we headed away from the bank altogether. I shouted at him and then banged on his helmet with my fist (lightly, I hasten to add). He stopped and said: ’Do you want to take a chance?’ At this stage all I could think of was the pain my knee was in so I said, in what might best be described as a rather brusque tone of voice: ‘I just want to go to the f****** Bank of Kigali!” He said he knew somewhere that did a much better rate of exchange. I explained that I had travellers’ cheques and that the Bank of Kigali was the ONLY place in Kigali that changed them.

Figuring that I had got my point across, we headed off again but again in a completely different direction. This time I attracted his attention by butting him in the back of his head/helmet with my own. I made it clear, using a forceful and pithy range of Anglo-Saxon terminology (he was Anglophone rather than Francophone so I’m pretty sure he got the gist) that I wanted to go to the Bank of Kigali RIGHT NOW OR ELSE! (The ‘or else, of course, didn’t carry the implication that I would walk there myself). Rather sullenly, he turned the bike around and eventually dropped me about twenty metres from the bank. Of all the days for this to happen!!

I slowly climbed up to the second floor and sat on a couch waiting for my turn. I was joined by two Scandinavian girls working as medical volunteers in Rwanda. They asked me how I was, emphasised that going to the hospital was essential but also informed me, to my slight alarm, that it would be too late to get the wound stitched as stitches could only be inserted up to six hours after an accident!

I got my travellers’ cheques changed and then went to Nakumatt where there is a pharmacy and supermarket. Loaded up on disinfectant, bandages, sterile crepe compresses and Elastoplast but the one thing I couldn’t get were those shiny-surfaced bandages that don’t stick to wounds. I have some at home in Gisagara but didn’t bring them with me!

I rang my Education Manager Charlotte to tell her what had happened and ask if there was anything I needed for the hospital (ID etc). She was really helpful and told me to call her if I needed anything at all (Alfred: and she called and texted back at various stages to make sure everything was OK - thanks Charlotte!). Then a taxi to King Faisal Hospital. At this stage my leg might as well have been in plaster for all that I was able to bend it so getting into the taxi was a hoot!

When you arrive at King Faisal Hospital, the A&E department is not really as clearly signposted as one might expect an A&E department to be! I tramped around for a bit, finding myself in a waste disposal facility at one stage (Alfred: I'm glad he decided to spare you the details of that!), and totally unchallenged by anyone at all. However, when I did find it everything was very efficient and quick. First the triage nurse took all my details, blood pressure and temperature, checked the bandages and took me to a treatment room. Then the doctor and nurse arrived. His name was Andrew (never got the nurse’s name) and had trained in Tanzania.

The best description of the process is efficient, thorough, and extremely painful. The wound under my kneecap was very deep and Andrew expressed amazement that such a deep wound could have been produced without tearing the fabric of my jeans. He and the nurse spent a while looking at the jeans, doubtlessly checking the label for future reference (Alfred: again, a big thanks to the people at NEXT in the Dundrum Shopping Centre – the two pairs of jeans Ruairí bought there before he left have been absolutely fantastic – three falls, one motorbike crash and various other instances of assorted abuse and still not a mark on them!). Anyway, all the wounds had to be THOROUGHLY cleaned out, twice, to make sure there were no foreign bodies, dirt etc in them. I laughed loudly all through (which I always find preferable to screaming and it works just as well) which slightly puzzled the nurse. She said it was OK to cry if I needed to as my wife wasn’t there. When I said I didn’t have a wife, both she and the doctor froze to the spot, stared at each other and then at me and said as co-ordinatedly as if they were with the Dublin Chamber Choir: “YOU DON”T HAVE A WIFE?” (Alfred: more like a Christmas panto to be honest)

Well, it certainly served to take everyone’s mind off the gory matter in hand. So, for the three thousand, six hundred and seventy-third time since my arrival, I explained that a) I was single/divorced b) I didn’t have any children that I knew of c) I didn’t know if I would marry (again) d) that it was all up to God to decide anyway.

(Alfred: Point d) is a crucial one in these conversations: if you stop at c) there will inevitably be a protracted ongoing discussion of the matter. Dragging the Supreme Deity into matters, however, has a remarkably calming effect.)

However, the nurse asked me if I would ever consider marrying a Rwandan woman. I replied that no one can control who they fall in love with and if God decided I was to love a Rwandan then that is how it would be. She said she was still single and looking for a husband and would appreciate being added to my list when (note the ‘when’, not ‘if’) the time came for me to choose a wife.

(Alfred: Ruairí's friends and family back home will doubtless have noticed the frequency with which he has started bringing God into his conversations here in Rwanda. Is this just cultural adaptation or .......)

All of this acted as a wonderful distraction from the awful things Dr Andrew was doing to my leg. Having cleaned out the wounds to his satisfaction, he was now packing them with some browny-purple stuff (Alfred: it was either iodine or sulphuric acid, judging by the effect it had on Ruairí) and then started on my elbow which I had completely forgotten about. Meanwhile, I was pondering the nurse’s request to be added to my list. Why a list? And why didn’t she want to be first? Was she presuming I would be turned down by many women and therefore needed a number of options? Or was it a positive indication of the number of women she thought might be interested in my proposal?

Anyway, by now the doctor had finished. He then wrote me a prescription for some painkillers: I read it and said ‘Ibuprofen’? He said, ‘Yes, I am giving you this for three reasons. One is it is cheap; the second is it is an anti-inflammatory to reduce the swelling and the third is you are Irish.’ ‘Irish?’ I said. ‘Yes’, he replied, ‘you can still drink alcohol while taking Ibuprofen’. Obviously, medical training in Tanzania is pretty comprehensive (or else he had some Irish lecturers).

Anyway, that was that. He said there was no medical reason for me not to head off to Kampala but I might want to give my leg a little while to recover before undertaking a nine-hour bus journey! And off I staggered, no payment required as they had my name registered as a VSO volunteer on the hospital database. Moto back to the Nakumatt pharmacy for the ibuprofen and then I slowly limped back down the hill to St Paul’s.

Then I began to realise that a certain element of shock must be setting in as I suddenly saw Steve McFadden (fellow VSO volunteer) appear beside me. I knew for a fact that Steve had gone to Ethiopia and there was no way he could be in Kigali. But he was – he was off the next day. So I went with him for a much-needed beer (collecting Andy on the way who was recovering from a mind-numbingly boring session on somethingorother) and then off to lie down. I had already decided in my mind that heading to Kampala the next day was not on – maybe Monday morning at the earliest.

Sunday 5th April
Thom (who was still sharing my room) and I got up latish and headed to the Bourbon Café for breakfast. He was expecting his parents to arrive later that day but then he got a message to say their plane had had to abort its take-off in Addis Ababa because of birds on the runway (Alfred: images of leaves on railway tracks come to mind) – lots of ambulances and fire brigades and exciting stuff like that. Anyway, all the tyres and brake systems now had to be rechecked so their ETA was a matter of guesswork at this stage!

Most of the rest of the day was taken up with getting a moto (painful!) to the bus station in Nyamagogo to get my ticket to Kampala, then to an Internet café for general surfing and see how Manchester United and Aston Villa were doing (Alfred: who is this Macheda kid anyway?). I had rung Marion earlier – she was with a guy called Ben Pollitt who had been a VSO volunteer here in 2000-2001 and had set up the Kivu Writers group. He was back looking for a school to set up a partnership with for his own school in Lewisham. Very interesting guy, it was great to be able to meet him after hearing so much about him from others. Sonya and Paula and Ozzie Christine also turned up out of nowhere so it was a jolly evening!! Then off to bed and get ready for Kampala!!

ALFRED: TUNE IN FOR THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE OF RUAIRÍ’S TRIP TO KAMPALA WHERE HE ACTUALLY REACHES KAMPALA!

Interim Report

Alfred here - stowed away in Ruairi's backpack while he wasn't looking - I wanted to see Kampala too!! Not sure when he is going to get around to doing a full update - you see (and PLEASE hold the hysterical laughter) - he fell down ANOTHER hole; that's the THIRD time since he got here. Lucky he didn't kill himself but what do you expect walking around Kigali at night on a mobile phone not looking where you are going? People are being unnecessarily sympathetic: I think Amy has the right idea - she hasn't stopped laughing since it happened which is a MUCH more appropriate response if you ask me (not that anyone has).

Anyway, update to come: manholes and hospitals, bus journeys to and from Kampala, observations on the differences between Kampala and Kigali, attitudes towards homosexuality in Uganda (or 'bum shafters' as they seem to be colloquially known), the uniquely privileged status of the Irish in Uganda, what Ruairi, President Museveni and President Obama have in common, and some stuff in Irish about the genocide. Stay tuned!!

PS: For any Rwanda-based masochists out there feeling at a loss, try the A&E in King Faisal Hospital - that should satisfy even the most ardent among you!

Wednesday 1st to Thursday 2nd April: Days 207 and 208 in Rwanda

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.

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT
Obviously the new budget cuts are having an effect. We were told this morning that as the budget has been cut 40%, the generator will now only be on from 0730 to 1200 each day. If you need electricity after that you have to walk over to the main District office. They may also be phasing out the photocopier as toner is expensive..... I wonder what's next?


WORK
Work has been pretty uneventful these last two days - I've been concentrating on getting my English classes finished up and their final exam set and marked. (Alfred: hang on, what happened to Tuesday? It was in the heading of your last entry but no mention!). Oh yes - Tuesday was exam day. They were suspiciously eager for it and I think I mislaid an earlier draft of the test. One of them was very surprised to find a third page, something I had addded late on (or maybe I'm just being paranoid and he was surprised it was so long, which it was). Anyway they all did pretty well, marks between 67% and 80% and that wraps up the first part of the course.


TRAVELLING MEDICINE MAN
Market day Wednesday and as I came home for lunch I could hear a ferocious bellowing coming over loudspeakers near my house. There was a big 4x4 parked outside and a guy in the back selling herbal medicines or some sort of cure-all to the crowd around him. For any fans of The Outlaw Josey Wales (Clint Eastwood's greatest film, IMHO), it was just like the white-suited travelling salesman. He even tried to get me to come over and try some but I just playe dumb!

FOOTBALL RIOT

This was Wednesday's big match - not Italy v. Ireland (of which more later) but Groupe Scolaire St Philippe Neri v. Groupe Scolaire Cyamakuza. Enock teaches in St Philippe Neri but I remained neutral as I will have to work with all the schools in the district! The score was 2-2 and near the end of the second half when St Philippe Neri bundled the ball untidily into the Cyamakuza net. Cyamakuza protested furiously and, when the referee gave the goal, tore off their shirts and hurled them to the ground and refused to play on. The referee promptly awarded the match to St Philippe Neri who set off on a victory lap and were then attacked by the disgruntled Cyamakuza players (Alfred: 'attacked' is a bit hard: pushing and scuffling and the kind of spectacular karate kicks teenage boys aim at each other and always miss with). Eventually order was restored and Enock said that both linesmen had bitterly disagreed with the referee's decision so he was going to try and persuade his boys to agree to a rematch.

One unexpected thing was the enormous crowd that gathered around me - I haven't visited Cyamakuza yet and the kids in Gisagara are so used to me they rarely even notice me any more, let alone stand and stare. Cyamakuza must not get any muzungu visitors because these kids were boggle-eyed at the sight of me to an extent I haven't come across before!!

IRELAND v. ITALY
Was chatting to various people on Facebook (Alfred: Hi Myra!) and had completely forgotten about the Italy-Ireland match. Then I came across Jean Goggin, Everton's biggest ever fan, who kindly gave me an instant commentary via Facebook chat, including Ireland's equaliser!! Thanks Jean!! She also gave me the best laugh I've had in a long time when she asked me if there were many Everton fans in Rwanda! (Alfred: You mightn't be laughing so hard when Everton are playing Chelsea in the FA Cup final - remember what happened the last time you made a crack about Everton......).



UGANDA HERE I COME
After work today I head to Butare and then Kigali and Kampala in that order. Will be in Uganda for about ten days or so and may or may not have internet access so blog addicts may have to wait a bit. Alfred has kindly agreed to stay home and mind the house (Alfred: :( which is good of him. We (Eric, Amy and I) have no specific plans at all, we'll just see what comes our way!

GOOD NEWS ON TIGA
Tiga flew back to France for what she and everyone else thought might have to be major surgery but it turned out to be a lot less serious than feared and she'll be back here before I get back from Uganda!! Yeah!! Jane has headed back to England to get herself checked out so let's hope for the same!

FUNDRAISING
I'm going ahead and getting the moto for Déo when I get back from Uganda. If anyone wants to contribute to this (or to any of the other projects) and hasn't had the details yet on how to do so, please email me at roheithir@gmail.com.

UNDERSTANDING AFRICAN FINANCIAL CULTURE
One of our volunteers, Bruce Upton (Alfred: You all remember Bruce, don't you?) posted an article on the above title on the VSO Program Office computer - really interesting stuff, much of it adapted from a book called “African Friends and Money Matters” by David Maranz. Here are a few extracts to whet your appetite:

1. The financial need that occurs first has first call on available money.
If money has been collected for a specific purpose, but before it can be spent on that specific purpose an urgent need arises, then it is considered acceptable to divert the money in hand to resolve the urgent need.


3. Money needs to be spent before friends or relatives ask to “borrow” it.
Sometimes people will make extravagant or unnecessary purchases just to keep friends and relatives from demanding any excess funds.

5. Rwandans are very sensitive and alert to the needs of others and are quite ready to share their resources.
Our culture is seen as being very cold and isolating towards others in need. With very little state social security network, the obligation to relatives and friends has been absolutely essential to ensure social cohesion.

11. Rwandans readily share space and things but tend to be possessive of knowledge. Westerners readily share knowledge but tend to be possessive about space and things. (“Sharing brings a full stomach; selfishness brings hunger” – Congolese proverb).
Expect not to be told voluntarily about events, changes to work patterns etc. You have to do all the asking, and to get the right answer you need to ask the right question. You need to make your questions as precise and as specific as you can.

13. A person to whom money or other resources are entrusted has a major say in how that money or resources are used.
Be aware that money requested for a specific purpose, once transferred, may not necessarily be used for that purpose at all, or even used by the person it was given to. As soon as you hand over money you lose any claim as to how it is used.

16. Budgeting, in any formal sense, is not an accepted way of handling personal finances.
This reveals a fundamental clash in cultures between the western ideal of independence and individualism, and the African ideal of interdependence and mutual support.

22. Many items are bought in very small amounts even though the per-unit cost of things bought this way is far higher than if they were bought in bulk.
This is because if you’re known to have bought a large quantity, beyond your immediate needs, you may be expected to share it with friends and neighbours.

42. It is seen as right and proper that people with means should be charged more than poor people for the same goods and services.
So expect to be overcharged in the market; you will be expected to bargain down from an asking price but will rarely end up paying the same amount as the Rwandan who bought the same amount of good just before you.

48. A loan is eligible to be repaid when the creditor’s need becomes greater than the debtor’s need.
Bear in mind that as a relatively wealthy westerner your need for any sum of money or object lent will almost always be perceived as less important than that of the debtor.

61. Many people will choose a sure and immediate benefit over a potentially larger long-term benefit.
This is one of the most far-reaching points in the list. It explains why cars belch smoke rather than have money spent on them for longer term economies. It explains why people in the market would rather rip you off and have the cash in hand than treat you fairly and bank on you returning again and again to the same trader.