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 – so it has been a while. My mother Catherine arrived on Tuesday 4th of August and there hasn’t really been time since then to update. I can’t pretend I had QUITE as exciting a time as Alfred but here’s a brief outline of what we got up to. (Alfred: Ha ha! Brief! Turn off your phone and lock the door ..... and order a pizza while you are at it).
Tuesday 4th August: Mammy arrives at Kigali airport only 30 minutes late, which is pretty impressive. As it happens, Martine Oliver was on the same plane – pity they hadn’t known this before they flew! Mammy had big problems with immigration because she had not applied for her tourist visa in advance. She pointed out that you were only required to do this if there was a Rwandan Embassy in your country but this distinction seemed to elude them. Finally they said they would allow her to pay for the visa then and there as a special favour. We also discover that Rwandan tourist visas cost $60 and are only valid for 15 days, which is a shorter time than most people come to Rwanda for, so it will have to be renewed or a new one purchased for another $60 dollars. Rip-off city!! Then we get a taxi to Beau Sejour, a nice little hotel near the VSO program Office where we plan to take a few days for Mammy to unwind and recover from the trip before we head off again. The rooms are nice but unfortunately they only had one en suite room, so I am using a shared bathroom which always gets on my nerves – whenever I am in there I always imagine a queue forming outside the door - not conducive to a relaxing shower (or anything else for that matter). (Alfred: of course it turns out that ALL the other rooms are en suite so it is actually Ruairí’s bathroom after all, even if it is down the hall a bit. So no need for all that angst. But hey! – angst for Ruairí is like mud for a rhino; he loves a good wallow from time to time .....). A quick bite in Sol e Luna, local Italian restaurant and then to bed.
Wednesday 5th August and Thursday 6th August: highlights of today were breakfast (great selection of fruit in particular – papaya, pineapple, tree tomatoes, oranges, bananas, passion fruit; also good coffee with hot milk, toast, eggs however you want them. Ham or cheese are an extra RWF1000 (£1) per piece, so avoid! Visited Ivuka Art Gallery and spent a long time there talking to the artists, then Novotel for a drink and then a wander around the city centre. Oh, hang on, that was Thursday wasn’t it? Wednesday was just wandering around the city centre, lunch in Bourbon, then meeting the Karisimbi Climbing Club in Simba (seven of the volunteers were heading off to climb Karisimbi volcano, an incredibly steep mountain in northern Rwanda – Andy, Thom, Els, Chris and Amy were there, Jane and Eric were joining them en route). Nidhi also turned up which was great as I really wanted Mammy to meet her. Or was Simba Thursday? Does it really matter? No. I think it was Thursday night Martine called over to the hotel for a drink and a chat and then we walked up to the Ethiopian restaurant in Kisimenti to meet Christine for dinner. It was a really nice evening (though I still remain to be convinced by those giant Ethiopian pancake-things they serve everything on).
Friday 7th August: got bus to Gitarama, booked into the Hotel Splendid which had easily the most magnificent bathrooms I have ever seen in this country (bar, possibly, the Serena) with just one little flaw – there was no water whatsoever all the time we were there. Called round to Soraya’s house for a chat and then headed back to the Splendid with her and the Polish couch surfer who was also staying there, where we met Moira and Kerry. Hayley and Charlotte turned up later from Hayley’s going-away party, Hayley with a fantastic set of embroidered YWCA duvet cover and pillow cases! Service at the Splendid was as fast and efficient as it was the last time (.i. the worst in Rwanda) and the food was so-so at best.
Saturday 8th August - Monday 10th August: Kibuye! Kibuye is on the shores of Lake Kivu in the east of Rwanda (Alfred: I think you mean ‘west’, don’t you? Hello? Anyone listening?...) and we were staying in a little guesthouse, well, quite a big guesthouse actually, called Bethany, right on the lake. I hadn’t been able to book until the day before as I wasn’t sure how long we’d be in Kigali so they only had the more expensive rooms free (RWF30,000 (€36) each per night). We didn’t do anything while we were there. The internet wasn’t working (doesn’t look like it ever did to be honest) and the one time I went into Kibuye itself the one internet cafe there wasn’t functioning either! So we read and ate and drank and lounged around and generally relaxed. The scenery there is stunning, really beautiful and I’ll certainly be back.
One complication is that there are no car taxis whatsoever, only motos. However I was able to hire a minibus to bring us to Bethany and then hired him to collect us the morning we were leaving. If anyone needs a contact number for that, just let me know! I also ran into two friends there, completely by accident. Robert is an Episcopalian pastor from San Antonio Texas who I had met previously in Kigali where he was attending a series of reconciliation seminars between survivors and perpetrators of the genocide. Now he was on holiday with his wife and two sons – she is a Spellman originally and gave us an amazing account of the Spellman family reunion in Uachtar Ard, Co. Galway some time ago with 500 people from all over the world, each wearing a badge in one of five colours to show which of the five original Spellman brothers and sisters they were descended from (one unfortunate had to wear a two-coloured badge due to two cousins have gotten hitched! Oh the shame!!).
Then I ran into John Simpson from the British Council who was there with his wife Gaudence, his three children (the twins must be just over one year old now) and two friends. John is possibly one of the most impressive people I have met since I came to Rwanda – he has been working in Africa for years and was until recently based in Addis Ababa but the recent developments with the Rwandan government and English meant he eventually had to relocate permanently to Kigali. He has worked with a lot of different VSO volunteers and is a man of enormous ability and even greater patience and it was really nice to see him. He also confirmed he would be free to come to my birthday party in Kigali!!!
Tuesday 11th August: Back to Kigali. Think we stayed in Beau Sejour again (or was this the time we had to stay in St Paul because Beau Sejour was full? Can’t remember). Anyway, it was really a day for travelling and recovering, don’t remember anything else in particular.
Wednesday 12th August: Off to Butare. Booked into the Faucon where an apartment with two bedrooms and a big sitting-room cost RWF30,000 per night. It did smell a little of damp however. We dropped our stuff and headed for Gisagara to visit my house. Mammy met Alexandré, missed Alfred as he has rather pointedly pointed out (Alfred: ‘Pointedly pointed out’? Lose your Thesaurus function on the laptop or what?) and afterwards we ended up in Vestine’s bar for beers with Enock and two other friends of mine from the village (Alfred: such close, dear friends are these that Ruairí can’t actually remember their names!). Then the taxi rolled out from town to collect us and back to the Faucon. It turned out the damp wasn’t actually damp but more likely some sort of broken pipe or leak below the floor and the smell was horrendous. We endured the night but made sure we changed rooms the next day.
Thursday 13th August: My birthday, and the same day of the week as the day I was born too! We had a latish start and then changed bedrooms (the new ones seem OK but you can sense the problem is about to spread here too). Lunch in Matar where Tariq informed me that Hassan was flying back from Beirut that day, so I invited them to my dinner party at the Faucon that night if they were free. And then off to the District Office!! The Executive Secretary had said, very mysteriously, when I applied for leave, that I ABSOLUTELY had to be in the District Office, with my mother, on my birthday, so I had actually rejigged the entire holiday to fit in with this. We arrived out ... and there was virtually no-one there. The Executive Secretary had gone off to Gisenyi, the Mayor was in Kigali and the two vice-mayors were in Kansi and ... somewhere else. My boss was off sick and the chargé, Alexis, was off with one of the vice-mayors. And, as usual, with all the authority figures missing, loads of other people had decided to bunk off. However, some of my friends were there – Antoine, Betty, Etienne, Odette, Augustin and a few others but what I thought was going to be something that would take a big chunk of the day turned out to be 30 minutes and then we headed back to Butare.
Dinner that night was good fun – I had run into my boss Francois on the street that day and had invited him and his wife to come. Enock had come back from the village with us and would also stay the night in the Faucon. Jane Keenan was there and Andy Crow had come down from Gikongoro. South African John was in Kigali but had hoped to join us later (but wasn’t able to in the end). An uninvited guest was Jean de la Croix, a guy I have met a few times in the Motel Ineza and around Butare. We met him on the street as we were heading for the Faucon, so it seemed the right thing to do to invite him (Alfred: No, you were just too embarrassed to actually tell him and you were also intrigued as to what Catherine would make of his French which he speaks rather the way Jackie Healy-Rae speaks English, only faster). It was a really nice evening and Andy even produced a cake at the end of it!! Enock had bought my mother a present for my birthday, a giant wooden map of Rwanda he had had carved with Gisagara District picked out on it especially. It weighs a ton so I suspect it will remain with me for now until I get round to having it shipped!! No sign of Tariq or Hassan (it turned out Hassan’s plane was delayed and he was wrecked by the time he got in) so eventually to bed.
Friday 14th August: back to Kigali, back to Beau Sejour. Popped down to Nyabugogo to buy the tickets to Kampala and then .... hmmm, can’t really remember. I think Mammy rested while I went off to the Program Office to scrounge some books and use the Internet (Alfred: which wasn’t working, of course). I also contacted the Indian restaurant, Handee’s, to confirm the arrangements for my official birthday party on the 222nd.
Saturday 15th and Sunday 16th August: off to Kampala. I always forget it is actually a nine-hour journey, not seven. And the traffic when we got to Kampala was horrendous, every bit as bad as the worst I remember from the last time. Our hotel was miles outside the city and it took half an hour and three phone calls to the hotel to locate it, but it was really nice and, because it is far out, it was quiet and there was no air pollution. So we ordered food (arrived in Rwandan-quick time) and had a few beers. Now, the last time I was here I developed a taste for Nile Special but they didn’t have that, so I went for Tusker malt which was very nice, but later in the holiday I developed a definite taste for Club, which has slightly less alcohol than Nile (and at the rate at which I drink beer, that is an important consideration in the Ugandan sun) and includes maize grits in its list of ingredients. Later we also came across Moonbeam, the only Ugandan beer that can be sold in Germany as it conforms to German beer purity laws (Alfred: there has to be a less evocative way of phrasing that, you being an historian and all). On Sunday we got a taxi into town and wandered around a bit. Mammy bought a really nice dress but after a bit we decided to head back to the hotel. Kampala just isn’t that interesting a city to wander around, to be honest and its being Sunday probably didn’t help! Hung around the hotel, read, showered a few times (ah! The luxury of screaming hot water all day and a needle shower! Awesome! And TV with the World Athletics Championships! And Premiership football! And all for RWF17,000 a night!)
Later that day Mike and Dave from GoSeeAfrica.com turned up to discuss our itinerary – a real Little and Large act: Dave is a big, chunky, confident guy with a strong voice and commanding presence. Mike, who will be our driver is a small, slight quiet-spoken man, a complete contrast. I paid over the cash and they said Mike would be there at 0800 the next morning to head off. He stressed the importance of punctuality on these trips if everything was to go according to plan, which Mammy and I were both pleased to hear! About an hour after they left, I suddenly had a thought. I only knew these guys from an Internet address. I had just handed over $1300 in cash to two guys who I had absolutely no information on or way of contacting other than a web address and a cell phone number. Ah well, hope for the best!
Monday 17th August: And of course I slept in! Mammy had knocked on my door at one stage and I glanced at my Palm pilot to check the time and it was only 0630 so I rolled over again. Of course my Palm pilot was still on Rwandan time and it was actually 0730 so I ended up having an extremely hasty shower and breakfast and off we headed at 0810 (Alfred: because of course Mike did turn up, and promptly too!). We were heading to the Zwiga rhino sanctuary and it took us about five hours to get there. The main problem was speed bumps: wherever the road has been dressed, instead of putting up signs for loose chippings and a speed limit as they would at home, the Ugandan authorities have rightly figured no-one would pay a blind bit of attention, so they create a speed bump EVERY TEN METRES. One stretch of road had so many of these I stopped counting after 100. It was easily the single most irritating motoring experience of my entire life!
The sanctuary was fantastic – nice big rooms, good food, nice staff. There was a Scottish girl called Joanna working there as the accommodation and catering manager, having just started a few days before. When I introduced myself as Ruairí and my mother as Catherine she fell around laughing – her brother and sister are called Ruaraidh and Catherine. Then we went off to track the rhinos. This you do on foot, once you have driven reasonably close to them. I couldn’t believe just how close we actually got to them. At one stage of the males obviously wondered exactly what the hell we were and ambled over for a look. He got within about five metres of us before the ranger shouted something at him in Swahili and he just turned away and ambled back. As you will hear later, we saw lots and lots of animals in Murchison Falls but this was definitely the highpoint for me! Then back to the guesthouse and dinner and more beers and then I stayed up really late chatting to Joanna who, had she been twenty years older I would probably have ended up proposing to (Alfred: I suspect you really mean had YOU been twenty years younger)!
Tuesday 18th August: drove to Murchison Falls, one of the worst drives I have experienced in Africa so far. The main road to Masindi was fine but then we turned off and drove about 80km on a crappy dirt track, part of which had been recently relaid but was still soft and slippy. We lost quite a bit of time as a result (plus a stop at the souvenir shop at the entrance where Mammy bought rhino-related objects) so we skipped our hotel and went straight to the Red Chilli Pepper camp where we grabbed an ultra-quick lunch (Alfred: food wasn’t great but you have to admire the business sense of someone who tells you what on the menu is available for someone who only has thirty minutes to eat!) Then it was off to the boat (our driver, Mike, had warned us to get there early and grab a seat on the left-hand side of the boat and he was right!) for the three-hour cruise to end bottom of Murchison Falls. And it was great – hippos, crocodiles, elephants, kobs, buffalo, storks, kingfishers, fish eagles, egrets, Jackson’s hartebeest, and the falls themselves were fabulous, even if we couldn’t get too close. See the photos!!
Then back to the actual hotel we were staying in and the one and only cock-up of the trip. Because Red Chilli Pepper was booked out, Mike had booked us into the Sambiya River Lodge, a much posher and more expensive place. As a result he had us sharing a room, which is not what we had expected. Now, Mammy and I have often shared a room before and, had we found out earlier in the day it might have been OK but we were tired and fed up and I got really annoyed with poor Mike. However, we had enough sense to realise that it wasn’t that big a deal really, had dinner (which was OK but not the biggest meal I have ever had) and a few beers. Mike turned up again and he said the programme for the next day was to head off at 0600 for the game drive, return for lunch and then visit the top of Murchison Falls in the afternoon. We said we were too tired for that so we would have a late breakfast, do a later game drive and not bother with the Falls. And then off to bed.
And then the heavens opened. It rained and it rained and it rained, an absolute deluge, for hour upon hour. It finally stopped by about 0500 but everything was an absolute quagmire. We got up late, had a late breakfast and lounged around until around 0830. By then the sun had appeared and things were beginning to cheer up. So we headed off to catch the 0900 ferry. After about two miles we came across a lorry stuck in the mud on the road and waited behind it for about forty-five minutes while men arrived on foot to dig it out. After this we headed on again, only to be overtaken by the same lorry which then went and got itself stuck AGAIN on the road in front of us. I was really impressed with Mike’s patience and forbearance. He helped to dig out the lorry a second time, whereupon the driver floored the accelerator, bounced about ten metres down the road and careered into the ditch. Even I had seen that one coming. Mike gave him a sarcastic round of applause and then managed to squeeze our 4x4 past him and on to the ferry.
This meant we ended up getting the 1100 ferry (across to the north side of the river where the game lives) and were running very late but it was an extremely heavily-disguised blessing, as we found out. Everyone who had gone earlier had a miserable time – stuck in mud, cars and buses falling over, animals all sheltering from the rain. By the time we got out, the roads were drying out and all the animals came out to warm up! It was fantastic. Pictures will tell the story better once I get to upload them but the high points were the two lionesses we found comatose under a tree having just eaten half an antelope (one was lying on her back because her stomach was so distended with food it was the only way she could lie down! I swear I could have gone over and poked her and she wouldn’t have done anything) and the Jackson’s hartebeests, a type of antelope with a face straight out of a science fiction novel. Our ranger, Henry, was a mine of information and overall it was an absolutely fantastic day. We also realised what a good driver Mike was, partly through observing what had happened to other drivers who were not similarly blessed!
OK - looks like the photos will have to wait until I am in Kigali tomorrow and can get a reasonable Internet signal!!!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Alfred's August Update
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.
August: Alfred’s Top Ten Moments.
So, for August Ruairí went off with his mother, visiting exotic parts of Rwanda and Uganda, animal trekking and lounging around amid beautiful scenery, drinking beer and meeting loads of interesting people. At the moment he is compiling his Top Ten Moments from his mother’s visit.
Needless to say, he didn’t bring me with him. But it didn’t really matter – I don’t need Ruairí to have a good time and keep myself occupied. I had a FABULOUS time here in Gisagara on my own. So here are my top ten moments from the last month:
The day a lorry went past
This was around eight o’clock in the morning. At first I could hear a roaring sound in the distance, which gradually got nearer. Then I realised it was a lorry. It was a big Chinese-made lorry with bad suspension, travelling very slowly and spewing out a thick dark cloud of foul-smelling, sticky diesel fumes. Of course, I couldn’t actually SEE it from the bedroom but trust me, the description is accurate. It slowed as it passed the house using the traditional Rwandan method of slowing a vehicle of changing down gear without using the clutch or the brake while the gears wail like banshees (plural, though I don’t know if banshees congregate in groups as a rule). Gradually, the noise faded away and the usual silence descended, broken only by the melodic expansion and contraction of the tin roof and the wailing of the goat next door waiting to be turned into brochettes and meatballs.
The day it rained
It’s not supposed to rain at this time of year. It did one day. Amazing.
The day of Catherine’s visit
Ruairí’s mother Catherine came to visit on the 12th August. I was really really looking forward to this, I can tell you, and not just to break the monotony (‘What monotony?’, I hear you cry!). Anyway, she and Ruairí arrived and I could hear her being introduced to Alexandré and then shown around the house. As the door to the bedroom opened, the trousers Ruairí had left on the back of my chair slid down and covered my face (and most of the rest of me as well). I heard Ruairí say: ‘And this is my bedroom’ and then they were gone. She never even noticed me. Not that I care, of course. If she had raised her eldest son to be a little more thoughtful and caring, I WOULDN’T BE STUCK IN THIS BLOODY ROOM ALL THE TIME!!!!!
The day I almost saw a cockroach
One day I saw a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. What was it? Was it a cockroach? I had never seen a cockroach in or near the house (and neither had Ruairí as I knew I would have heard ALL about it if he did!). Whatever it was, it was scuttling backwards and forwards about the floor in a rather aimless and totally silent manner. My brain was a mass of fevered speculation but cockroach was my definite hunch. It zoomed left, and then right, then circled a bit ... and then rose straight up into the air and hovered there. A small dustball caught in the breeze. But it COULD have been a cockroach ....
The day I invented a New Unified Field Theory
They say an infinte number of chimpanzees with an infinite number of typewriters (presumably laptops these days) would eventually write all the great works of literature. So, I thought to myself, one smarter-than-average bear with an awful lot of time on his hands should be able to achieve something. So I decided to invent a new Unified Field Theory, on the basis that I might as well do something useful. It took about three days and, apart from the fact that I wasn’t able to reconcile it with some aspects of Superstring Theory (I always seem to end up with one dimension extra, like an extra sock after doing the washing) I think it works pretty well.
The day I chatted with Jeremy the Bat
Jeremy’s accidental excursion into Ruairi’s bedroom some months ago seems to have given him notions. For some reason, he seems to think that falling out of the attic and geting trapped under a bed and finally being bundled into a tupperware container and thrown over a fence has given him a superior status among the bat community. Anyway, he has taken to popping down when Ruairí is not around and chatting in a ‘Hail-fellow-well-met’ kind of way, long and insanely boring monologues about how none of the other bats understand him and how limited their experience of the ‘real’ world is (.i. the inside of a lunchbox). Last night I got three hours on the different ‘crunchinesses’ (his word, I assure you) of the different types of insects he eats. I suspect the others bats are encouraging this behaviour just to get rid of his company for a couple of hours and get a bit of sleep.
The day I listened to Alexandré’s radio
Alexandré had his radio on today. To be fair, he has it on every day and usually at full blast. Ruairí is always muttering to himself about this (not that he has muttered anything to Alexandré so far, which might be a more positive step to take in the circumstances) but I don’t think Ruairí realises that the radio is old and the volume control faulty, so it’s either whisper or shout.
Anyway, this day Alexandré was in a less pious mood than normal. Usually we get Mass, then hymns, then a religious phone-in programme (funny how you can tell, even when you don’t understand any of the language, that a programme has a religious theme) but today he was listening to little bits of mass and then flicking to a pop music channel. As the channel was playing gangsta rap, it made for a rather alarming (if entertaining) sequence of contrasts, with the sacrifice of the eucharist being intercut with various graphic accounts of that the singer was intending to do to anyone of his friends (who all appeared to have had carnal relations with their mothers) if they happened to even look at any of the female dogs he was surrounded with. There were also constant mentions of pirates’ plunder for some reason (I presume that’s what he meant by ‘booty’) and his close homosexual friends (‘homies’) and then it’s back to praying for Pope Benedict, the usual stuff about bread and tresspassing and a lot of ‘Alleluias’ thrown in for good measure.
The day I had an Itchy nose
Teddy-bears aren’t supposed to get itchy. If we did, we should be able to move our arms!!!!!
The day there was a bird on the roof
OK, OK – not a day passes that there isn’t a bird or birds on the roof, usually those big magpie-coloured crows. The funny thing is that, no matter how often it happens, you can never quite believe that it is just a bird making that incredible racket. I have lost track of how often I have heard Ruairí unlocking the front door and rushing out into the garden, muttering: ‘That CAN’T be just a bloody bird, can it?’. And it always it.
The day nothing happened at all
One day, I was sitting on the chair in the bedroom (as I always do). The hours slipped past and, as they did, I realised that absolutely nothing was happening. As morning slipped into afternoon, I began to wonder, with increasing excitement, whether we might actually be about to have a day where ABSOLUTELY NOTHING happened. As the hours slipped by, my excitement mounted. At any moment I feared Alexandré might switch on his radio, a fly might enter the room, someone might call to the door, that something would happen to spoil the perfection. As darkness fell, I was biting my non-existent nails with the tension. And then, there it was! The day was over and NOTHING HAD HAPPENED. I resisted the urge to run around the room shouting with glee (as a teddy-bear running around the room shouting with glee would very definitely BE SOMETHING). Incredible ... only the one hundred and eighty-seventh time this has happened to me since I came to Rwanda and got stuck in this bloody bedroom!
August: Alfred’s Top Ten Moments.
So, for August Ruairí went off with his mother, visiting exotic parts of Rwanda and Uganda, animal trekking and lounging around amid beautiful scenery, drinking beer and meeting loads of interesting people. At the moment he is compiling his Top Ten Moments from his mother’s visit.
Needless to say, he didn’t bring me with him. But it didn’t really matter – I don’t need Ruairí to have a good time and keep myself occupied. I had a FABULOUS time here in Gisagara on my own. So here are my top ten moments from the last month:
The day a lorry went past
This was around eight o’clock in the morning. At first I could hear a roaring sound in the distance, which gradually got nearer. Then I realised it was a lorry. It was a big Chinese-made lorry with bad suspension, travelling very slowly and spewing out a thick dark cloud of foul-smelling, sticky diesel fumes. Of course, I couldn’t actually SEE it from the bedroom but trust me, the description is accurate. It slowed as it passed the house using the traditional Rwandan method of slowing a vehicle of changing down gear without using the clutch or the brake while the gears wail like banshees (plural, though I don’t know if banshees congregate in groups as a rule). Gradually, the noise faded away and the usual silence descended, broken only by the melodic expansion and contraction of the tin roof and the wailing of the goat next door waiting to be turned into brochettes and meatballs.
The day it rained
It’s not supposed to rain at this time of year. It did one day. Amazing.
The day of Catherine’s visit
Ruairí’s mother Catherine came to visit on the 12th August. I was really really looking forward to this, I can tell you, and not just to break the monotony (‘What monotony?’, I hear you cry!). Anyway, she and Ruairí arrived and I could hear her being introduced to Alexandré and then shown around the house. As the door to the bedroom opened, the trousers Ruairí had left on the back of my chair slid down and covered my face (and most of the rest of me as well). I heard Ruairí say: ‘And this is my bedroom’ and then they were gone. She never even noticed me. Not that I care, of course. If she had raised her eldest son to be a little more thoughtful and caring, I WOULDN’T BE STUCK IN THIS BLOODY ROOM ALL THE TIME!!!!!
The day I almost saw a cockroach
One day I saw a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. What was it? Was it a cockroach? I had never seen a cockroach in or near the house (and neither had Ruairí as I knew I would have heard ALL about it if he did!). Whatever it was, it was scuttling backwards and forwards about the floor in a rather aimless and totally silent manner. My brain was a mass of fevered speculation but cockroach was my definite hunch. It zoomed left, and then right, then circled a bit ... and then rose straight up into the air and hovered there. A small dustball caught in the breeze. But it COULD have been a cockroach ....
The day I invented a New Unified Field Theory
They say an infinte number of chimpanzees with an infinite number of typewriters (presumably laptops these days) would eventually write all the great works of literature. So, I thought to myself, one smarter-than-average bear with an awful lot of time on his hands should be able to achieve something. So I decided to invent a new Unified Field Theory, on the basis that I might as well do something useful. It took about three days and, apart from the fact that I wasn’t able to reconcile it with some aspects of Superstring Theory (I always seem to end up with one dimension extra, like an extra sock after doing the washing) I think it works pretty well.
The day I chatted with Jeremy the Bat
Jeremy’s accidental excursion into Ruairi’s bedroom some months ago seems to have given him notions. For some reason, he seems to think that falling out of the attic and geting trapped under a bed and finally being bundled into a tupperware container and thrown over a fence has given him a superior status among the bat community. Anyway, he has taken to popping down when Ruairí is not around and chatting in a ‘Hail-fellow-well-met’ kind of way, long and insanely boring monologues about how none of the other bats understand him and how limited their experience of the ‘real’ world is (.i. the inside of a lunchbox). Last night I got three hours on the different ‘crunchinesses’ (his word, I assure you) of the different types of insects he eats. I suspect the others bats are encouraging this behaviour just to get rid of his company for a couple of hours and get a bit of sleep.
The day I listened to Alexandré’s radio
Alexandré had his radio on today. To be fair, he has it on every day and usually at full blast. Ruairí is always muttering to himself about this (not that he has muttered anything to Alexandré so far, which might be a more positive step to take in the circumstances) but I don’t think Ruairí realises that the radio is old and the volume control faulty, so it’s either whisper or shout.
Anyway, this day Alexandré was in a less pious mood than normal. Usually we get Mass, then hymns, then a religious phone-in programme (funny how you can tell, even when you don’t understand any of the language, that a programme has a religious theme) but today he was listening to little bits of mass and then flicking to a pop music channel. As the channel was playing gangsta rap, it made for a rather alarming (if entertaining) sequence of contrasts, with the sacrifice of the eucharist being intercut with various graphic accounts of that the singer was intending to do to anyone of his friends (who all appeared to have had carnal relations with their mothers) if they happened to even look at any of the female dogs he was surrounded with. There were also constant mentions of pirates’ plunder for some reason (I presume that’s what he meant by ‘booty’) and his close homosexual friends (‘homies’) and then it’s back to praying for Pope Benedict, the usual stuff about bread and tresspassing and a lot of ‘Alleluias’ thrown in for good measure.
The day I had an Itchy nose
Teddy-bears aren’t supposed to get itchy. If we did, we should be able to move our arms!!!!!
The day there was a bird on the roof
OK, OK – not a day passes that there isn’t a bird or birds on the roof, usually those big magpie-coloured crows. The funny thing is that, no matter how often it happens, you can never quite believe that it is just a bird making that incredible racket. I have lost track of how often I have heard Ruairí unlocking the front door and rushing out into the garden, muttering: ‘That CAN’T be just a bloody bird, can it?’. And it always it.
The day nothing happened at all
One day, I was sitting on the chair in the bedroom (as I always do). The hours slipped past and, as they did, I realised that absolutely nothing was happening. As morning slipped into afternoon, I began to wonder, with increasing excitement, whether we might actually be about to have a day where ABSOLUTELY NOTHING happened. As the hours slipped by, my excitement mounted. At any moment I feared Alexandré might switch on his radio, a fly might enter the room, someone might call to the door, that something would happen to spoil the perfection. As darkness fell, I was biting my non-existent nails with the tension. And then, there it was! The day was over and NOTHING HAD HAPPENED. I resisted the urge to run around the room shouting with glee (as a teddy-bear running around the room shouting with glee would very definitely BE SOMETHING). Incredible ... only the one hundred and eighty-seventh time this has happened to me since I came to Rwanda and got stuck in this bloody bedroom!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Oh dear!
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.
Hmmm .... maybe Alfred did have a point after all (about my tardiness in doing updates, not the other rubbish he ahs been on about). Eighteen days since the last post and the magnitude of the task facing me in updating continues to daunt me. Basically, my mother arrived on August 4th and we have been exploring Rwanda and Uganda since then. I truned fifty on August, had a nice dinner on my real birthday in Butare, then went off to Uganda for six days safari and returned to Kigali for my 'official' birthday party on Saturday 22nd (yesterday) which was really great - 45 people turned up at Handee's restaurant and we had a great time.
So that is it in a tiny nutshell, concise and to-the-point enough to satisfy even Alfred (Alfred: You'd think so, wouldn't you! Just wait, my turn will come .......). Specific details will follow at some stage along with some photos from Kibuye, Uganda and elsewhere.
Hmmm .... maybe Alfred did have a point after all (about my tardiness in doing updates, not the other rubbish he ahs been on about). Eighteen days since the last post and the magnitude of the task facing me in updating continues to daunt me. Basically, my mother arrived on August 4th and we have been exploring Rwanda and Uganda since then. I truned fifty on August, had a nice dinner on my real birthday in Butare, then went off to Uganda for six days safari and returned to Kigali for my 'official' birthday party on Saturday 22nd (yesterday) which was really great - 45 people turned up at Handee's restaurant and we had a great time.
So that is it in a tiny nutshell, concise and to-the-point enough to satisfy even Alfred (Alfred: You'd think so, wouldn't you! Just wait, my turn will come .......). Specific details will follow at some stage along with some photos from Kibuye, Uganda and elsewhere.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Apologies
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.
If Alfred's lurid exaggerations of my recent activities were designed to drag my attention back to my blog, he has succeeded. Suffice to say that, buried back in my bedroom in Gisagara, his over-active imagination has little else to do except fasten on small, relatively inconsequential happenings and inflate them into dramas of Hindenberg-like proportions. More details soon. Meanwhile my mother has arrived!!!!
If Alfred's lurid exaggerations of my recent activities were designed to drag my attention back to my blog, he has succeeded. Suffice to say that, buried back in my bedroom in Gisagara, his over-active imagination has little else to do except fasten on small, relatively inconsequential happenings and inflate them into dramas of Hindenberg-like proportions. More details soon. Meanwhile my mother has arrived!!!!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
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: that's it, I've had as much as I can take. Nag nag nag but still no result, just pathetic excuses about having to 'work' all the time and how the MTN modem now seems to not work more often than it does. I mean, we are now actually getting emails from people complaining about this (sorry Mike, sorry Jennifer, sorry EVERYONE!).
So what has been going on? Well, life HAS been quite hectic, it has to be said. First of all we had Ruairí's first full-scale sector training session for all the directors and bursars of the Ndora sector (fifteen in all). It has only taken him seven months to get around to this so one-and-a-half cheers all round, eh. Topics were Strategic Planning and How to Do it, Classroom Inspection Techniques, General School Administration and a feedback session on his inspections of all the schools. Two days before the session he decided (over his director’s protests) that he was doing the whole thing in French rather than English on the fairly flimsy basis that that was the only way anyone was going to understand anything. In other words, he thought they were more likely to understand him doing a SWOT analysis in French than in English (or analyse AFOM as it is in French).
It actually went OK as one or two of the directors have good enough English to help him out when he got stuck. However, he tried to cram far too much into just one four-hour training session (as they refreshingly bluntly told him on the evaluation forms). At least he got the chargé to join in the training with the idea that he will do more and more of it as time goes by. Also, glancing at the last blog entry, the parents were not invited in the end, thank goodness, as most of them do not speak either French or English.
Other than that, we had the wonderful occasion that was Gitfest 2009. Hayley and Thom decided to make up for the fact that we were all missing out on the music festivals back at home (not that Ruairí has actually ever attended one in his life!) and held our very own one in Gitarama last weekend. Ruairí went as Boy George, wearing the caftan and hat he bought in Nairobi airport and spent DAYS learning off the words to Karma Chameleon as he thought everyone was going to have to perform. Pretty weird lyrics they are too (‘Desert loving in your eyes all the way’ – WTF?). Anyway, everyone came as some sort of music festival-associated character (hen party, Bruce Springsteen, tarot card readers, hippies, peace protesters, whatever – see pictures on Ruairí’s facebook page http://www.facebook.com/notifications.php#/album.php?aid=129926&id=526238416). Anyway it was a great occasion and well done to Hayley, Thom and Charlotte and everyone else involved.
Ruairí was staying with Moira and Kerrie in their new houses in Kavumu and the three of them plus Amalia went for breakfast in the Hotel Splendid in Gitarama. You’d think everyone would be used to the abysmally slow service in Rwanda by now, but this really took the biscuit. I mean, it was only breakfast. Ruairí got really cross with the waitress which is not his usual style (and was a bit inappropriate really as none of the things were really her fault) but the hotel (and remember this is a hotel, not just a little restaurant) had no milk, no butter or Blue Band, no fruit and I suspect no eggs because the two omelettes arrived forty minutes after Kerrie and Ruairí got their toasted sandwiches. The entire thing took one hour and forty five minutes for tea and coffee, two toasted sandwiches and two omelettes, some bread and chopped fruit. The hotel looked really nice and the rooms are very reasonable but ….
Actually, another reason for his recent failure to update is that he is writing a column for the Irish language magazine COMHAR – the first should be appearing any day now in the August edition and he just fired off the second one. I suspect that is where his creative instincts have been leading him – probably means I am going to have to take over the blog entirely for the foreseeable future. I’m not really sure why this is so as he is just recycling in Irish all the stuff he wrote here in the first place, with maybe a little more political stuff (figuring it’s safer to write that stuff in Irish!). Anyway, if you are interested, go out and start buying copies of COMHAR or better still take out a subscription so all the money actually goes to the magazine!
Discretion prevents me from commenting in too much detail on Ruairí’s entry into the world of Rwandan dating and night clubs: suffice to say that there is actually something quite funny about watching someone climbing out of a car wreck only to leap into another speeding obviously-unsuitable vehicle. Actually, maybe watching the car wreck in progress is even funnier. Not sure – for me, this is definitely going to remain a spectator sport but I’m not sure I am going to be able to convince Ruairí of that. I can’t even convince him that dating your ex-girlfriend’s best friend immediately after her is a questionable tactic at best. It is also interesting (to say the least) watching a middle-aged previously married white guy who has absolutely no intention of getting married again interacting with these Rwandan women whose ONLY aim is to get married. At least he has finally discovered the delights of KBC, Kigali’s premier (and possibly only) night-club. I wonder whether the impending approach of his fiftieth birthday is anything to do with it all ……
And that’s about it for now. Looking back on all that I can maybe see a bit better why there has been a hiatus but I suspect it will be me for the time being anyway. No photos this time as the Internet café is running on Internet Explorer minus three and can cope with very little. I am having to type all this in Word and then cut and paste or else there would be no fadas on Ruairí’s name (and we all know how ratty he gets about that even though he pretends he doesn’t care when people misspell his name). His mother arrives this evening and they head off to visit the parts of Rwanda Ruairí has not yet explored – which is about 99% of it; real stick-in-the-mud here, folks. Will keep you posted!!
Oh, me? What do you think – still sitting on the chair in the bedroom watching the bats, geckoes and other assorted wildlife gamboling around while his nibs is away. And now we have cicadas in the attic – merciful Lord, the noise they make, like a set of uilleann pipes gone horribly wrong.
**********************************************************************************
Keats and Chapman found themselves at a loose end one summer and, rather than their customary focus on literature and the likes, decided to adopt new hobbies to pass the time. Chapman decided to go in for bird breeding but found that the market was already saturated with parrots, mynah birds, budgies, canaries and suchlike. He decided therefore to focus on trying to convince people to take more ordinary birds as pets, such as sparrows, blackbirds and especially crows. However, the results of his breeding programme were weak and feeble specimens and he became more and more frustrated.
One afternoon Keats called around to try and cheer his friend up. “So, Chapman”, he said, “bred any good rooks recently?”
(with apologies to the BC Radio 4 News Quiz where I heard the punchline)
Alfred: that's it, I've had as much as I can take. Nag nag nag but still no result, just pathetic excuses about having to 'work' all the time and how the MTN modem now seems to not work more often than it does. I mean, we are now actually getting emails from people complaining about this (sorry Mike, sorry Jennifer, sorry EVERYONE!).
So what has been going on? Well, life HAS been quite hectic, it has to be said. First of all we had Ruairí's first full-scale sector training session for all the directors and bursars of the Ndora sector (fifteen in all). It has only taken him seven months to get around to this so one-and-a-half cheers all round, eh. Topics were Strategic Planning and How to Do it, Classroom Inspection Techniques, General School Administration and a feedback session on his inspections of all the schools. Two days before the session he decided (over his director’s protests) that he was doing the whole thing in French rather than English on the fairly flimsy basis that that was the only way anyone was going to understand anything. In other words, he thought they were more likely to understand him doing a SWOT analysis in French than in English (or analyse AFOM as it is in French).
It actually went OK as one or two of the directors have good enough English to help him out when he got stuck. However, he tried to cram far too much into just one four-hour training session (as they refreshingly bluntly told him on the evaluation forms). At least he got the chargé to join in the training with the idea that he will do more and more of it as time goes by. Also, glancing at the last blog entry, the parents were not invited in the end, thank goodness, as most of them do not speak either French or English.
Other than that, we had the wonderful occasion that was Gitfest 2009. Hayley and Thom decided to make up for the fact that we were all missing out on the music festivals back at home (not that Ruairí has actually ever attended one in his life!) and held our very own one in Gitarama last weekend. Ruairí went as Boy George, wearing the caftan and hat he bought in Nairobi airport and spent DAYS learning off the words to Karma Chameleon as he thought everyone was going to have to perform. Pretty weird lyrics they are too (‘Desert loving in your eyes all the way’ – WTF?). Anyway, everyone came as some sort of music festival-associated character (hen party, Bruce Springsteen, tarot card readers, hippies, peace protesters, whatever – see pictures on Ruairí’s facebook page http://www.facebook.com/notifications.php#/album.php?aid=129926&id=526238416). Anyway it was a great occasion and well done to Hayley, Thom and Charlotte and everyone else involved.
Ruairí was staying with Moira and Kerrie in their new houses in Kavumu and the three of them plus Amalia went for breakfast in the Hotel Splendid in Gitarama. You’d think everyone would be used to the abysmally slow service in Rwanda by now, but this really took the biscuit. I mean, it was only breakfast. Ruairí got really cross with the waitress which is not his usual style (and was a bit inappropriate really as none of the things were really her fault) but the hotel (and remember this is a hotel, not just a little restaurant) had no milk, no butter or Blue Band, no fruit and I suspect no eggs because the two omelettes arrived forty minutes after Kerrie and Ruairí got their toasted sandwiches. The entire thing took one hour and forty five minutes for tea and coffee, two toasted sandwiches and two omelettes, some bread and chopped fruit. The hotel looked really nice and the rooms are very reasonable but ….
Actually, another reason for his recent failure to update is that he is writing a column for the Irish language magazine COMHAR – the first should be appearing any day now in the August edition and he just fired off the second one. I suspect that is where his creative instincts have been leading him – probably means I am going to have to take over the blog entirely for the foreseeable future. I’m not really sure why this is so as he is just recycling in Irish all the stuff he wrote here in the first place, with maybe a little more political stuff (figuring it’s safer to write that stuff in Irish!). Anyway, if you are interested, go out and start buying copies of COMHAR or better still take out a subscription so all the money actually goes to the magazine!
Discretion prevents me from commenting in too much detail on Ruairí’s entry into the world of Rwandan dating and night clubs: suffice to say that there is actually something quite funny about watching someone climbing out of a car wreck only to leap into another speeding obviously-unsuitable vehicle. Actually, maybe watching the car wreck in progress is even funnier. Not sure – for me, this is definitely going to remain a spectator sport but I’m not sure I am going to be able to convince Ruairí of that. I can’t even convince him that dating your ex-girlfriend’s best friend immediately after her is a questionable tactic at best. It is also interesting (to say the least) watching a middle-aged previously married white guy who has absolutely no intention of getting married again interacting with these Rwandan women whose ONLY aim is to get married. At least he has finally discovered the delights of KBC, Kigali’s premier (and possibly only) night-club. I wonder whether the impending approach of his fiftieth birthday is anything to do with it all ……
And that’s about it for now. Looking back on all that I can maybe see a bit better why there has been a hiatus but I suspect it will be me for the time being anyway. No photos this time as the Internet café is running on Internet Explorer minus three and can cope with very little. I am having to type all this in Word and then cut and paste or else there would be no fadas on Ruairí’s name (and we all know how ratty he gets about that even though he pretends he doesn’t care when people misspell his name). His mother arrives this evening and they head off to visit the parts of Rwanda Ruairí has not yet explored – which is about 99% of it; real stick-in-the-mud here, folks. Will keep you posted!!
Oh, me? What do you think – still sitting on the chair in the bedroom watching the bats, geckoes and other assorted wildlife gamboling around while his nibs is away. And now we have cicadas in the attic – merciful Lord, the noise they make, like a set of uilleann pipes gone horribly wrong.
**********************************************************************************
Keats and Chapman found themselves at a loose end one summer and, rather than their customary focus on literature and the likes, decided to adopt new hobbies to pass the time. Chapman decided to go in for bird breeding but found that the market was already saturated with parrots, mynah birds, budgies, canaries and suchlike. He decided therefore to focus on trying to convince people to take more ordinary birds as pets, such as sparrows, blackbirds and especially crows. However, the results of his breeding programme were weak and feeble specimens and he became more and more frustrated.
One afternoon Keats called around to try and cheer his friend up. “So, Chapman”, he said, “bred any good rooks recently?”
(with apologies to the BC Radio 4 News Quiz where I heard the punchline)
Monday, July 20, 2009
Sorry!
OK - it's been a while but I have been really busy. Work has been heavy/great/demanding (all of those) and I am also trying to write some other articles and bits and pieces. Was asked today to include all the presidents of the Parents' Committees in my training next Tuesday which basically means rewriting everything and wondering about the language aspect of the training - I can manage it in French (with one or two directors whose English is good enough to translate for me when necessary) but the parents reps are another matter.
Anyway, promise to update properly soon. My mother is arriving August 4th and is staying until the 25th so I had better get at least one good update in before then!!
Anyway, promise to update properly soon. My mother is arriving August 4th and is staying until the 25th so I had better get at least one good update in before then!!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Monday 13th July 2009: Day 310 in Rwanda (What? 310? Really?)
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.
KEN FRANKLIN'S BIRTHDAY PARTY LINE-UP
(As I didn't bring my camera, these are all previous pictures taken of the guests on various occasions. And I have no recent pictures of Steve with his beard and he looks COMPLETELY different to this picture but I didn't want to leave him out!). Surnames included at the request of various readers who are trying to keep track of everyone.
KEN FRANKLIN'S BIRTHDAY PARTY LINE-UP
(As I didn't bring my camera, these are all previous pictures taken of the guests on various occasions. And I have no recent pictures of Steve with his beard and he looks COMPLETELY different to this picture but I didn't want to leave him out!). Surnames included at the request of various readers who are trying to keep track of everyone.
Steve MacFadden and me.
Kerry Carrington and Amalia Da Silva Lima at Bruce's birthday party in Gahini
Ken Franklin (at Han and Mans' party) and Charlotte Shaw and Hayley Pert having one of their 'market clothes day' parties!
Cathryn Devine (at the St Patrick's Day party) and Bruce Upton (at his own birthday party)
Anyway, I trot out my few Kinyarwandan phrases, among which is the Kinyarwandan phrase for deoch an dorais or 'one for the road': agashingura cumu. Antoine is very pleased that I know this (Alfred: though, it must be said, he did express surprise that Ruairí can say something as abstruse as this but can't put a basic sentence together that includes a functioning verb!) and asks me if I know what it means? In olden days, only adult men were allowed to drink (pretty much still the rule) and all adult males carried a spear as a mark of their status and entitlements. When you visited someone's house to have a drink, you would drive your spear point-first into the ground outside the door of their hut/house. As the evening progressed towards its finale, at soem stage someone would suggest that it was time to go. Then another would say that they should have one final drink agashingura cumu - 'to give the strength needed to pull the spear out of the ground'. Nice one, eh?
SATURDAY
Moira Kelly at the St Patrick's Day party (like you couldn't guess)!
Kerry Carrington and Amalia Da Silva Lima at Bruce's birthday party in Gahini
Ken Franklin (at Han and Mans' party) and Charlotte Shaw and Hayley Pert having one of their 'market clothes day' parties!
Cathryn Devine (at the St Patrick's Day party) and Bruce Upton (at his own birthday party)
Well, it has been a great weekend, overall! Friday was fine at work, started writing up the reports for the two schools I had just visited and then found out that I was expected to teach an English class - sports has been rescheduled to Wednesdays so everyone presumed this meant the English class on Wednesday is rescheduled to Friday afternoon!
These classes are bad enough but, Friday afternoon? Ah well, I was hanging around anyway for the after-work bus into Butare so I said OK, grabbed some vocabulary sheets etc when I went home to pack and set up bright and early for class. One student came. One. And it was Antoine, of course, who is the only person actually interested in learning English for its own sake. His English is already quite good, to be fair, but he is very poor on the oral and aural aspects, so chatting to him and making him talk is probably the best thing I can do for him.
As we chat about languages in general, he notices I am reading a magazine and has a look at it - it is the May edition of COMHAR, an Irish-language magazine devoted to literature and politics (and other things thrown in as well) which a very kind friend sent me as a present. Intrigued by this, he asks me what languages I speak and how much Kinyarwandan I have been able to learn before (Alfred: this was after the 30-minute discussion on whether natives of this country should be described as 'Rwandans' or 'Rwandese'. 'Rwandan' does seem more natural as it fits with 'Ugandan', 'Kenyan', 'African', 'Nigerian' and so on, but we do use '-ese' in English too: 'Chinese', 'Maltese' and 'Japanese' spring to mind. Who cares? Well, lots of people it seems. If 'Rwandese' is being used because it is like the French 'Rwandaise', then they should be using 'Rwandan' in English; but if 'Rwandese' is a legitimate English ending in its own right, then that is OK. The politics of language: bet Ruairí can't wait to get back to Ireland to get away from that sort of thing .......)
Anyway, I trot out my few Kinyarwandan phrases, among which is the Kinyarwandan phrase for deoch an dorais or 'one for the road': agashingura cumu. Antoine is very pleased that I know this (Alfred: though, it must be said, he did express surprise that Ruairí can say something as abstruse as this but can't put a basic sentence together that includes a functioning verb!) and asks me if I know what it means? In olden days, only adult men were allowed to drink (pretty much still the rule) and all adult males carried a spear as a mark of their status and entitlements. When you visited someone's house to have a drink, you would drive your spear point-first into the ground outside the door of their hut/house. As the evening progressed towards its finale, at soem stage someone would suggest that it was time to go. Then another would say that they should have one final drink agashingura cumu - 'to give the strength needed to pull the spear out of the ground'. Nice one, eh?
Then off to Butare, bank for money and Faucon for beer, where Jane Keenan joined me. It was really great to catch up with Jane - I really missed her while she was back in England in hospital and, since she got back, we seem not to have seen each other very often. Anyway, we had a great chat and a nice bottle of red wine - can't remember the last time that happened!
SATURDAY
Saturday I wandered to the post office and found a surprise parcel! Usually I know parcels are coming because even when people send them as a surprise, after three or four weeks they email or something wondering if I got it. It hasn't arrived yet of course! This parcel contained two bars of really good chocolate, a copy of the Phoenix magazine and an article on dyscalculia (Alfred: Hmmm, wonder who on earth THAT could have been from???). Then hopped on the bus to Nyanza for Ken Franklin's birthday party.
Nyanza is a funny place. Ken says it is a great place to live and it looks like it could be - I've only been there twice and it has a strange feel to it but that is probably because I don't know it well. The market seemed nice but was closing up when I got there, the internet cafe was insanely slow, unbelievably so (Alfred: because, of course, Ken had emailed instructions on how to get to his house but Ruairí had neither printed them out nor written them down, had he!), and the omelette speciale in the cafe in the centre of town was as good as I remembered it from the last time.
I downloaded and wrote out the instructions to Ken's house, which seemed clear and then I checked in to the local motel which has the most unusual name of any hotel or guesthouse I have ever stayed in – Scanlife. What the hell is that about? I felt like asking but in either English or French, the process of just getting a room in an establishment whose sole raison d’être is to hire out rooms to visitors, usually tourists, was so prolonged and laborious that I felt no urge whatsoever to prolong the agony any further. The room was OK even if the place itself looked like a prison that had fallen on law-abiding times and was hiring one of its wings out to make a bit of cash on the side. It was RWF 8,000 for the night (€10) (Alfred: yep, the euro is now worth 800 francs, a big improvement on recently – long may it continue). They had rooms for RWF5,000 but there was no way I was starting the process all over again!! As I settled into the room, the girl reappeared lugging a large jerrycan of water – OK, no water today. Then she reappeared with a nice bar of soap in a box, a small tube of Colgate, also sealed in a box and a brand-new, quite expensive toothbrush! Definitely the first time I have had that level of accessories in a room (Alfred: which is probably the only difference between a RWF5,000 and RWF8,000 room! And he only took the toothpaste and left the rest behind!)
So I headed off (having purchased the Nido that Ken had asked for). (Alfred: for the sake of non-Rwandans – because EVERYONE in Rwanda knows what Nido is, it is powdered milk and a staple of the VSO diet here, though expensive. A standard tin of Nido costs 3500 francs which is well over half a day’s wages and you can get through one quite quickly, especially if you drink coffee as regularly as Ruairí does!) . The road was dusty but not too hilly, the weather was pleasant and the house was ... rather farther than I had expected. Eventually I began passing the kind of landmarks that I realised would have been mentioned in the instructions – either I was on the wrong road or had overshot by a long way! It was the latter (courtesy of a phone call to Bruce) so I headed back. This time I found myself almost back in town when I heard running steps behind me and turned to find Bruce sprinting after me as I had overshot the house again! (Alfred: or, to summarise the entire previous paragraph in a sensible way, “I bought some Nido and eventually found Ken’s house”!)
And we had a really great night. Present were Charlotte (Shaw), Hayley, Moira, Kerry, Amalia, Bruce, Cathryn , and Steve who turned up later having had a similar experience to mine in getting there (Alfred: actually Steve’s journey was much more interesting and worthy of a longer telling than the boring farrago outlined above, especially the bit where he ends up back in town on a moto, lost, and Cathryn jumps on another moto with Ruairí’s phone to head off and try and find him!!). There was really nice food (some of it VERY spicy) and brochettes, and a friend of Ken and Cathryn’s turned up with amazing deep fried bahjis (Alfred: that is NOT how you spell it, make an effort for goodness’ sake).
And then we played charades. Now, I have always enjoyed charades but tonight’s were a bit special. We started off with the usual book/film/play/TV thing and then moved on to a variant that seems to have evolved among VSO volunteers here in Rwanda – animal charades. You are given an animal and a descriptive word (usually an adjective but not necessarily – randy mosquito and anorexic aardvark were two of the ones I got to perform) and have to perform both simultaneously until someone guesses what it is. Later on, we decided (to speed things up) that the descriptor and animal had to be alliterative (mad monkey, ridiculous rooster, bewildered beetle, stoned snake, hesitant hippo, cantankerous crab and so on. I tried to get someone to do amorous amoeba but they objected that an amoeba isn’t an animal). It was great fun and there was some great acting but the absolute, hands-down winner for performance of the night had to be Steve’s performance as a lesbian lion to which mere words simple cannot do justice ... and I forgot to bring my camera. Those who were not there, just eat your .... heart out.
Then back to the hotel. In the bar there were various groups of Rwandan men in various stages of inebriation. One guy called to me when he saw my Chelsea shirt and told me he was a fanatical Liverpool fan (Alfred: the combination of alcohol and lack of secure command of either French or English on the Rwandan/Rwandese man's part makes that – and following - confident assertions by Ruairí somewhat less dependable than they might seem). He told me he was the local guy in charge of all security and if there were any problems, any problems at all, I was to come to HIM! Then he wanted to know what his job title would be in English and I told him District Security Chief sounded good to me. After fending off five offers of a beer or a Fanta (which, I couldn’t help notice, none of the other people at the table seemed to be encouraging me to accept and I suspect with my best interests at heart!) I headed for my room.
So I headed off (having purchased the Nido that Ken had asked for). (Alfred: for the sake of non-Rwandans – because EVERYONE in Rwanda knows what Nido is, it is powdered milk and a staple of the VSO diet here, though expensive. A standard tin of Nido costs 3500 francs which is well over half a day’s wages and you can get through one quite quickly, especially if you drink coffee as regularly as Ruairí does!) . The road was dusty but not too hilly, the weather was pleasant and the house was ... rather farther than I had expected. Eventually I began passing the kind of landmarks that I realised would have been mentioned in the instructions – either I was on the wrong road or had overshot by a long way! It was the latter (courtesy of a phone call to Bruce) so I headed back. This time I found myself almost back in town when I heard running steps behind me and turned to find Bruce sprinting after me as I had overshot the house again! (Alfred: or, to summarise the entire previous paragraph in a sensible way, “I bought some Nido and eventually found Ken’s house”!)
And we had a really great night. Present were Charlotte (Shaw), Hayley, Moira, Kerry, Amalia, Bruce, Cathryn , and Steve who turned up later having had a similar experience to mine in getting there (Alfred: actually Steve’s journey was much more interesting and worthy of a longer telling than the boring farrago outlined above, especially the bit where he ends up back in town on a moto, lost, and Cathryn jumps on another moto with Ruairí’s phone to head off and try and find him!!). There was really nice food (some of it VERY spicy) and brochettes, and a friend of Ken and Cathryn’s turned up with amazing deep fried bahjis (Alfred: that is NOT how you spell it, make an effort for goodness’ sake).
And then we played charades. Now, I have always enjoyed charades but tonight’s were a bit special. We started off with the usual book/film/play/TV thing and then moved on to a variant that seems to have evolved among VSO volunteers here in Rwanda – animal charades. You are given an animal and a descriptive word (usually an adjective but not necessarily – randy mosquito and anorexic aardvark were two of the ones I got to perform) and have to perform both simultaneously until someone guesses what it is. Later on, we decided (to speed things up) that the descriptor and animal had to be alliterative (mad monkey, ridiculous rooster, bewildered beetle, stoned snake, hesitant hippo, cantankerous crab and so on. I tried to get someone to do amorous amoeba but they objected that an amoeba isn’t an animal). It was great fun and there was some great acting but the absolute, hands-down winner for performance of the night had to be Steve’s performance as a lesbian lion to which mere words simple cannot do justice ... and I forgot to bring my camera. Those who were not there, just eat your .... heart out.
Then back to the hotel. In the bar there were various groups of Rwandan men in various stages of inebriation. One guy called to me when he saw my Chelsea shirt and told me he was a fanatical Liverpool fan (Alfred: the combination of alcohol and lack of secure command of either French or English on the Rwandan/Rwandese man's part makes that – and following - confident assertions by Ruairí somewhat less dependable than they might seem). He told me he was the local guy in charge of all security and if there were any problems, any problems at all, I was to come to HIM! Then he wanted to know what his job title would be in English and I told him District Security Chief sounded good to me. After fending off five offers of a beer or a Fanta (which, I couldn’t help notice, none of the other people at the table seemed to be encouraging me to accept and I suspect with my best interests at heart!) I headed for my room.
There I continued reading my C.J. Sanson novel accompanied by a half-bottle of pineapple waragi I miraculously discovered in my backpack. It really is one of these ‘unputdownable’ books and is not going to last me half as long as I had hoped. That means I will have finished three of the four existing books in the series so I will save the last one for when Mammy is here and we are travelling around together.
SUNDAY
Arose earlyish, splashed water on myself, did not brush my teeth (the water was just a little bit too brown for my taste) and headed back to Ken’s for breakfast. Ken had to head off for a baptism and when he left, he locked the gate behind him! So, having managed to push the gate open, someone had to stay on the inside to close it and then climb out over it. Hayley and I had to scoot off as her lift was waiting for her and I gather Amalia was nominated to carry out the acrobatics!! The driver who was collecting Hayley was called Paul and had li9ved in Dublin for a year, on Kimmage Road West where I lived as a very small child! When I said I lived in Dún Laoghaire he said he knew an Irishman called Paul Tierney (I think) who was from there, had worked in Rwanda and had married a Rwandan/Rwandese woman (Alfred: Oh, for goodness; sake, are we going to continue this pedantic b***shit for the next 300 days? They say 'Rwandese', that's good enough) and is now living back in Ireland. Small world! That means there might be someone living around Dún Laoghaire to give me Kinyarwandan lessons when I go back (Alfred: WHAT??? You are actually IN Rwanda at the moment, lessons cost next to nothing and you are thinking of waiting until you go BACK to take classes? What in the name of ....... I'm speechless).
Arose earlyish, splashed water on myself, did not brush my teeth (the water was just a little bit too brown for my taste) and headed back to Ken’s for breakfast. Ken had to head off for a baptism and when he left, he locked the gate behind him! So, having managed to push the gate open, someone had to stay on the inside to close it and then climb out over it. Hayley and I had to scoot off as her lift was waiting for her and I gather Amalia was nominated to carry out the acrobatics!! The driver who was collecting Hayley was called Paul and had li9ved in Dublin for a year, on Kimmage Road West where I lived as a very small child! When I said I lived in Dún Laoghaire he said he knew an Irishman called Paul Tierney (I think) who was from there, had worked in Rwanda and had married a Rwandan/Rwandese woman (Alfred: Oh, for goodness; sake, are we going to continue this pedantic b***shit for the next 300 days? They say 'Rwandese', that's good enough) and is now living back in Ireland. Small world! That means there might be someone living around Dún Laoghaire to give me Kinyarwandan lessons when I go back (Alfred: WHAT??? You are actually IN Rwanda at the moment, lessons cost next to nothing and you are thinking of waiting until you go BACK to take classes? What in the name of ....... I'm speechless).
And then shopping in Butare (bread, peanut butter, Nido, pasta, tuna, fruit juice, coffee, waragi and kidney beans. Couldn't find peanut oil for cooking anywhere and went to six places vefore I could find mayonnaise. An expensiove lot of stuff!). Then a coffee and a fanta in Faucon and home to Gisagara.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Week that started badly but got better
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.
Seemed to take my brain a few days to shake off Nairobi. Didn’t really sleep Monday or Tuesday nights (went out for beers with Enock on Tuesday followed by waragi – thought it might help the sleeplessness; didn’t). Trying to get my head around organising the training course for the week after next but couldn’t really do so. Meantime I get told by the District that the rent on my house hasn’t been paid for four months and can I please sort it out with VSO. This came as a surprise as I thought the District were supposed to be paying the rent! Turns out we agreed to pay it but only up to April and we HAD paid it up to April! Anyway, VSO have agreed to pay the missing two months but only if the District put in writing that they will take over responsibility from now on.
Big meeting Wednesday for the heads of all the new secondary schools – in other words, all the schools that were just primary schools until last year and now have the first year of secondary tagged on. Emile from MINEDUC was there, nice guy, I’ve gone on a few school inspections with him. He is looking very stressed as well he might be. The idea of the Nine Years’ Basic Education policy is that kids should stay in school until the end of third year secondary; the problem is that they are doing so! The extra rooms to accommodate the first year’s intake were found by making the primary classes double up but they have all been used up so they will have to build literally hundreds of new classrooms for next year. One school I visited this week has 81 students in their First Year but have had 266 applications for next year’s First Year (and this is the school that has only seven latrines for its existing 1440 students!!). I don’t envy Emile or the others trying to sort this one out!!
At the meeting I met Aimable and Muninazi, two heads of remote schools in Mugombwa sector, so I visited them today (Thursday). It was a long drive – Mushongi is so remote it is the first ever place I went to that my driver, Déo, had never even heard of. The longest-serving teacher in the school said I was the first ever person from outside the sector to visit it! They have no water, no electricity (Alfred: that goes without saying, apart from the odd solar panel, NONE of the primary schools have electricity) and six crumbling latrines for 880 students. The new director, appointed in April, has been warned that if the toilets actually fall down and injure anyone, he is responsible, but no one will give him the resources to do anything about it. He has not been paid his salary since he took over (none of the newly-appointed directors to these new schools have) and the capitation grants have not been paid for the second term. The poor guy sounded at his wits end. The same was true at Mugombwa school – as I said, 1440 students and seven latrines, no water supply, no salaries.
The awful thing – if that is the right word – is that they seem to think that my turning up means something is going to be done about it, as if I have some kind of magic connection to MINEDUC. All I can do is pass on my recommendations but knowing at the same time that all these schools are sending the same SOSs. Mugombwa school has started building rabbit hutches but had to stop halfway through because the capitation money was all used up. They are only RWF30,000 short (about €40) but, by the time they can do it, I suspect the existing work will have disintegrated and they will have to start all over again.
It has been an interesting experience visiting schools at this time. Two and a half weeks ago all schools started their end of term exams and then, while the teachers are correcting and writing reports, there are no classes. The kids hang around school, sometimes they are set jobs to do but basically the last week of term is a non-event. In both the schools I visited most of the students (and quite a lot of the teachers) hadn’t bothered coming in. This gets repeated three times a year, so that’s a big chunk of the school year wasted.
Anyway, headed off 0700, got back pretty wrecked by 1500 for my English class and the four students who – eventually – turned up for it. The knee held up pretty well, actually (Alfred: and a big thanks to all those who gave email and Facebook suggestions as to what to do about it or offered to ask their physiotherapists – thanks Lucia and Chris in particular!). Also cooked a nice dinner tonight for the first time in a while (Alfred: tomato and peppers pasta sauce followed by coffee – Ruairí needs to up his game in this regard if he is beginning to regard this as a culinary highlight, this from the guy who was going to write a Rwandan cookbook! More like a pamphlet...).
OTHER STUFF
Visitors!
Went out into the back yesterday afternoon and found a young girl standing in the back yard. She just smiled and waved and I presumed she was a friend or relation of Alexandré’s (my guard). However, you don’t want to let people wander around too much so, after going back into the house for my glasses I came out again. I saw her flitting over to the other side of the house as I went in and, when I came out, she was picking leaves off some plants that are growing in my garden (I had always presumed they were weeds, to be honest). She was accompanied by a guy in a (I swear this is true) Bush-Quayle t-shirt who greeted me loudly by name – ‘Ruairí, komera!’. Now, I figure most people know my name by now but then again maybe he was actually someone I knew so I said ‘hi’ and shook hands. The girl looked up rather sheepishly and explained in a mixture of French and Kinyarwandan that the imboga she was picking was a great source of vitamin A! So, I figured what the hell and left them to it. As I went back into the house, Alexandré turned up and almost collapsed in horror when he saw what was going on. I beat a hasty retreat into the house while he firmly ushered the two off the premises (I think she had pretty much picked what she wanted by then anyway).
Paralysis at work
We are all still waiting for the announcement of who is going to be redeployed from the Districts to the sectors and it is not having a good effect on people! Of the 42 or so in the District, we expect about ten or so to move and no-one knows who it is going to be. At the Monday morning meeting the Executive Secretary made a special announcement basically telling people to get on with their jobs and stop speculating or spreading ill-founded rumours as there is absolutely no hard information as of yet. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one liable to be moved to the other end of the District without warning!
Mother’s visit
There is huge excitement in the District Office at the prospect of my mother’s coming to visit! I had no idea it would cause such a stir, and when I mentioned that she was coming partly to celebrate my 50th birthday, the Executive got a glint in his eye and a grin that I am not quite sure what to make of! Should be interesting....... Haven’t actually told my boss yet that I am off from the 3rd to 25th August but the Executive gave me the all clear so that’s OK (Alfred: Ruairí should mention that his boss is actually away on leave ....)
Thanks
Thanks to Anne-Marie for the headtorch and calculator (Alfred: not to mention the first package actually addressed to ME! Headtorch comes in handy for spotting bats in the bedroom ... but what’s with the calculator??), everyone for the advice about the knee (especially those who told me to go on the Internet and look for exercises there (Alfred: who would have guessed Ruairí would have to be told to go on the Internet!!)), all my 5th and 6th Years (soon to be 6th Years and past pupils) for all their messages, to Maddie and the other TY mini-company people from last year for their contributions to my fund-raising (Alfred: Oh yes, if anyone does feel like contributing anything, Ruairí has now set up a Paypal account at roheithir@gmail.com so it is REALLY EASY to contribute!!), to Sarah and Graham MacFadden for their wonderful hospitality last weekend, C. J. Sansom for writing such brilliant Matthew Shardlake books, and whoever the genius was who invented mango-flavoured waragi.
If you are sending me stuff ...
I seem to have quite a few emails recently from people asking me if I need anything. I have most things to be honest but, if people feel the urgent need to send something, either chocolate or Cauliflower & Broccoli Cup-A-Soup would be welcome (no broccoli and precious little cauliflower in this country). Send to me or Alfred at BP 129, Butare, Rwanda. (Alfred: DON’T send chocolate with liquid or gooey fillings – it gets on my fur (and usually leaks in transit).
GROUPE SCOLAIRE MUSHONGI (818 students)
Latrines - boys' side. This block was actually built only a few years ago but to an abysmal standard.
Latrines - close-up. Most of them do not have doors and the very poor condition of the wood and concrete makes them almost impossible to clean.
Latrines - girls' side.
Two shots of the 'staff room'.
The director, Muhanuzi
GROUPE SCOLAIRE MUGOMBWA
The director, Aimable (left) and his vice-director whose name I was unable to ascertain!
Block of six latrines for boys and girls, two without doors. This block was built in 2007 when the previous block was demolished by a falling tree. This accounts, I am told, for the poor quality of construction.
Originlly the staff toilets, one of the two is now used by students to try and relieve the pressure.
Seemed to take my brain a few days to shake off Nairobi. Didn’t really sleep Monday or Tuesday nights (went out for beers with Enock on Tuesday followed by waragi – thought it might help the sleeplessness; didn’t). Trying to get my head around organising the training course for the week after next but couldn’t really do so. Meantime I get told by the District that the rent on my house hasn’t been paid for four months and can I please sort it out with VSO. This came as a surprise as I thought the District were supposed to be paying the rent! Turns out we agreed to pay it but only up to April and we HAD paid it up to April! Anyway, VSO have agreed to pay the missing two months but only if the District put in writing that they will take over responsibility from now on.
Big meeting Wednesday for the heads of all the new secondary schools – in other words, all the schools that were just primary schools until last year and now have the first year of secondary tagged on. Emile from MINEDUC was there, nice guy, I’ve gone on a few school inspections with him. He is looking very stressed as well he might be. The idea of the Nine Years’ Basic Education policy is that kids should stay in school until the end of third year secondary; the problem is that they are doing so! The extra rooms to accommodate the first year’s intake were found by making the primary classes double up but they have all been used up so they will have to build literally hundreds of new classrooms for next year. One school I visited this week has 81 students in their First Year but have had 266 applications for next year’s First Year (and this is the school that has only seven latrines for its existing 1440 students!!). I don’t envy Emile or the others trying to sort this one out!!
At the meeting I met Aimable and Muninazi, two heads of remote schools in Mugombwa sector, so I visited them today (Thursday). It was a long drive – Mushongi is so remote it is the first ever place I went to that my driver, Déo, had never even heard of. The longest-serving teacher in the school said I was the first ever person from outside the sector to visit it! They have no water, no electricity (Alfred: that goes without saying, apart from the odd solar panel, NONE of the primary schools have electricity) and six crumbling latrines for 880 students. The new director, appointed in April, has been warned that if the toilets actually fall down and injure anyone, he is responsible, but no one will give him the resources to do anything about it. He has not been paid his salary since he took over (none of the newly-appointed directors to these new schools have) and the capitation grants have not been paid for the second term. The poor guy sounded at his wits end. The same was true at Mugombwa school – as I said, 1440 students and seven latrines, no water supply, no salaries.
The awful thing – if that is the right word – is that they seem to think that my turning up means something is going to be done about it, as if I have some kind of magic connection to MINEDUC. All I can do is pass on my recommendations but knowing at the same time that all these schools are sending the same SOSs. Mugombwa school has started building rabbit hutches but had to stop halfway through because the capitation money was all used up. They are only RWF30,000 short (about €40) but, by the time they can do it, I suspect the existing work will have disintegrated and they will have to start all over again.
It has been an interesting experience visiting schools at this time. Two and a half weeks ago all schools started their end of term exams and then, while the teachers are correcting and writing reports, there are no classes. The kids hang around school, sometimes they are set jobs to do but basically the last week of term is a non-event. In both the schools I visited most of the students (and quite a lot of the teachers) hadn’t bothered coming in. This gets repeated three times a year, so that’s a big chunk of the school year wasted.
Anyway, headed off 0700, got back pretty wrecked by 1500 for my English class and the four students who – eventually – turned up for it. The knee held up pretty well, actually (Alfred: and a big thanks to all those who gave email and Facebook suggestions as to what to do about it or offered to ask their physiotherapists – thanks Lucia and Chris in particular!). Also cooked a nice dinner tonight for the first time in a while (Alfred: tomato and peppers pasta sauce followed by coffee – Ruairí needs to up his game in this regard if he is beginning to regard this as a culinary highlight, this from the guy who was going to write a Rwandan cookbook! More like a pamphlet...).
OTHER STUFF
Visitors!
Went out into the back yesterday afternoon and found a young girl standing in the back yard. She just smiled and waved and I presumed she was a friend or relation of Alexandré’s (my guard). However, you don’t want to let people wander around too much so, after going back into the house for my glasses I came out again. I saw her flitting over to the other side of the house as I went in and, when I came out, she was picking leaves off some plants that are growing in my garden (I had always presumed they were weeds, to be honest). She was accompanied by a guy in a (I swear this is true) Bush-Quayle t-shirt who greeted me loudly by name – ‘Ruairí, komera!’. Now, I figure most people know my name by now but then again maybe he was actually someone I knew so I said ‘hi’ and shook hands. The girl looked up rather sheepishly and explained in a mixture of French and Kinyarwandan that the imboga she was picking was a great source of vitamin A! So, I figured what the hell and left them to it. As I went back into the house, Alexandré turned up and almost collapsed in horror when he saw what was going on. I beat a hasty retreat into the house while he firmly ushered the two off the premises (I think she had pretty much picked what she wanted by then anyway).
Paralysis at work
We are all still waiting for the announcement of who is going to be redeployed from the Districts to the sectors and it is not having a good effect on people! Of the 42 or so in the District, we expect about ten or so to move and no-one knows who it is going to be. At the Monday morning meeting the Executive Secretary made a special announcement basically telling people to get on with their jobs and stop speculating or spreading ill-founded rumours as there is absolutely no hard information as of yet. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one liable to be moved to the other end of the District without warning!
Mother’s visit
There is huge excitement in the District Office at the prospect of my mother’s coming to visit! I had no idea it would cause such a stir, and when I mentioned that she was coming partly to celebrate my 50th birthday, the Executive got a glint in his eye and a grin that I am not quite sure what to make of! Should be interesting....... Haven’t actually told my boss yet that I am off from the 3rd to 25th August but the Executive gave me the all clear so that’s OK (Alfred: Ruairí should mention that his boss is actually away on leave ....)
Thanks
Thanks to Anne-Marie for the headtorch and calculator (Alfred: not to mention the first package actually addressed to ME! Headtorch comes in handy for spotting bats in the bedroom ... but what’s with the calculator??), everyone for the advice about the knee (especially those who told me to go on the Internet and look for exercises there (Alfred: who would have guessed Ruairí would have to be told to go on the Internet!!)), all my 5th and 6th Years (soon to be 6th Years and past pupils) for all their messages, to Maddie and the other TY mini-company people from last year for their contributions to my fund-raising (Alfred: Oh yes, if anyone does feel like contributing anything, Ruairí has now set up a Paypal account at roheithir@gmail.com so it is REALLY EASY to contribute!!), to Sarah and Graham MacFadden for their wonderful hospitality last weekend, C. J. Sansom for writing such brilliant Matthew Shardlake books, and whoever the genius was who invented mango-flavoured waragi.
If you are sending me stuff ...
I seem to have quite a few emails recently from people asking me if I need anything. I have most things to be honest but, if people feel the urgent need to send something, either chocolate or Cauliflower & Broccoli Cup-A-Soup would be welcome (no broccoli and precious little cauliflower in this country). Send to me or Alfred at BP 129, Butare, Rwanda. (Alfred: DON’T send chocolate with liquid or gooey fillings – it gets on my fur (and usually leaks in transit).
GROUPE SCOLAIRE MUSHONGI (818 students)
Latrines - boys' side. This block was actually built only a few years ago but to an abysmal standard.
Latrines - close-up. Most of them do not have doors and the very poor condition of the wood and concrete makes them almost impossible to clean.
Latrines - girls' side.
Two shots of the 'staff room'.
The director, Muhanuzi
GROUPE SCOLAIRE MUGOMBWA
The director, Aimable (left) and his vice-director whose name I was unable to ascertain!
Block of six latrines for boys and girls, two without doors. This block was built in 2007 when the previous block was demolished by a falling tree. This accounts, I am told, for the poor quality of construction.
Originlly the staff toilets, one of the two is now used by students to try and relieve the pressure.
The rabbit-hutches, half-built. Aimable hopes to raise the additional €40 to complete it from the capitation fund ... once it arrives!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Boring Entry but cute pictures!!
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.
HOME FROM NAIROBI
So, back to Kigali on Friday, went to Graham and Sarah MacFadden’s house where I am staying for the weekend and droped off my stuff. Then off to meet Mike and Tamsin and the twins!!! Matthew and Annabel (see pictures) are still really tiny but (Alfred: and bear in mind, friends and family, who exactly is saying this) SO cute!! Then back to Graham and Sarah’s for ... Indian Kazana takeaway!! (You have to have been in Kigali to appreciate what this means).
Saturday was Liberation Day, a big national holiday celebrating the day the genocide finally ended and I, of course, forgot. So I toddled off to do things and visit people and found everyone out or closed or whatever. Eventually I found a bunch of people in Blues Café so I hung out there for a bit – Sarah turned up to collect her surge protector!! Then I met up with Micheál Boland and we went back to Sarah and Graham’s to watch the rugby. Then back to La Planete to meet Andy and Jane and Thom and then back to Sarah and Graham’s (Alfred: Sweet Lord above, could this be any more boring? I keep telling him, a blog is NOT a diary, you are supposed to record the interesting things that happen, acid or penetrating observations on the society around you, witty and entertaining comments, NOT brushing your teeth, shopping and the order you put your socks on!)
Good point. Actually it was really nice hanging out with Graham and Sarah, whom I hadn’t seen in a while – they are the British Council here in Rwanda (John Simpson is also but he seems to have been permanently kidnapped by MINEDUC) and doing a damn good job! But, Alfred is right .... headed down to Butare Sunday after meeting Steve MacFadden for coffee (Alfred: and, if the eagle-eyed among you are awake, you will have spotted that Steve from Vancouver and Graham from ... wherever in England have the same surname. Are they related? Probably, as both their ancestors hail from the same small village in County Louth. The story would be better if I could remember the name of the village but there you go – still quite a coincidence).
Tamsin and Annabel on the left, Mike (VSO Rwanda Country Director) and Matthew on the right.
HOME FROM NAIROBI
So, back to Kigali on Friday, went to Graham and Sarah MacFadden’s house where I am staying for the weekend and droped off my stuff. Then off to meet Mike and Tamsin and the twins!!! Matthew and Annabel (see pictures) are still really tiny but (Alfred: and bear in mind, friends and family, who exactly is saying this) SO cute!! Then back to Graham and Sarah’s for ... Indian Kazana takeaway!! (You have to have been in Kigali to appreciate what this means).
Saturday was Liberation Day, a big national holiday celebrating the day the genocide finally ended and I, of course, forgot. So I toddled off to do things and visit people and found everyone out or closed or whatever. Eventually I found a bunch of people in Blues Café so I hung out there for a bit – Sarah turned up to collect her surge protector!! Then I met up with Micheál Boland and we went back to Sarah and Graham’s to watch the rugby. Then back to La Planete to meet Andy and Jane and Thom and then back to Sarah and Graham’s (Alfred: Sweet Lord above, could this be any more boring? I keep telling him, a blog is NOT a diary, you are supposed to record the interesting things that happen, acid or penetrating observations on the society around you, witty and entertaining comments, NOT brushing your teeth, shopping and the order you put your socks on!)
Good point. Actually it was really nice hanging out with Graham and Sarah, whom I hadn’t seen in a while – they are the British Council here in Rwanda (John Simpson is also but he seems to have been permanently kidnapped by MINEDUC) and doing a damn good job! But, Alfred is right .... headed down to Butare Sunday after meeting Steve MacFadden for coffee (Alfred: and, if the eagle-eyed among you are awake, you will have spotted that Steve from Vancouver and Graham from ... wherever in England have the same surname. Are they related? Probably, as both their ancestors hail from the same small village in County Louth. The story would be better if I could remember the name of the village but there you go – still quite a coincidence).
Alfred: Next instalment: Nairobi v. Kigali, Kenya v. Rwanda - reflections!!
Tamsin and Annabel on the left, Mike (VSO Rwanda Country Director) and Matthew on the right.
GOODBYE NAIROBI!
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
I forgot to say that the previous day I had again called to the VSO Kenya office which is just down the road from the hotel hoping to see Esther who is the person here who was handling the arrangments for my visit. She turned out to be in a meeting so I left a note explaining what had happened to date and my phone number – I was partly concerned that VSO might end up paying twice – once through the insurance company and then again to me when I claimed back what I had spent.
Later that afternoon, as I was en route from the Doctors’ Plaza to the radiology unit, she rang me, or at least attempted to. It was like a flashback to the Irish telephone system of the 1970s when any long-distance call was a rollercoaster ride into the unknown! Granted her call was being shunted over to Rwanda and back again to me in Kenya but the effects were startling. There was a six-second time delay between one person speaking and the other person hearing (I timed it!) and then you could hear your own voice the second time round as clear as day. However, when the other person spoke, by the time the words arrived, they had been slowed down and distorted like a second-rate special effect from a science fiction film (or a bit like the dream sequences in Twin Peaks, if anyone other than me remembers them). Eventually she gave up, which was probably the right option!
But on Friday morning, just after I had stepped out of the shower, there was a knock on the door and I was told there was a call for me at reception. It was Esther all right and we had a good chat. She explained that she had never received final notification that I was indeed coming (flight details etc) or else there would have been someone to meet me at the airport, they would have given me the documentation I needed etc. (Alfred: Hmmm, if so then why was the accommodation booked, albeit for only two nights?). She wanted to check that I had enough money and whether I needed anything else. I explained that I was actually about to head for the airport but that everything had turned out all right in the end!
And off to the airport I went, a little bit early but I prefer to get there in time and get the hassle over with. Plus I figured I had better allow for Nairobi’s traffic – and I was right. Not that we ran too late but it took much longer than I would have expected. The airport was fine, other than a little difficulty at security where the elderly guard was very concerned that they would not let me on board the plane with my walking stick – I told him I would take my chances! The airport is quite nice actually, despite the various horror stories I had heard about it. I think the problem is that people are often stuck there for eight or twelve hours and nowhere in the world is going to be pleasant in that situation. And maybe it was quieter where I was – mostly local flights within Kenya or to immediately neighbouring countries.
Anyway, bought some clothes in duty free (Alfred: I am so waiting for when we can get a photo of him in his new caftan with the mother-of-pearl buttons and little hat up on the internet – puts that Kampala shirt of his in the shade!), grabbed some lunch and then headed off to the boarding area. Schoolboy error – no fluids in your carry-on luggage!!! There went my bottle of water, small 25cl red wine and a bottle of cane spirit (glad to see the back of that one to be honest!). Like I haven’t travelled often enough to know this but I seem to do it every trip. Thank goodness I had put the plum sauce in the main luggage – that would have been a real disaster!! Plus they missed one of the two small bottles of wine!
Flight was fine, landed on time, almost managed to finish the Stephen King I had begun reading the previous day (Dreamcatcher, OK though it went a bit off the rails towards the end) and then headed to AEE, the guesthouse where the VSO Education Conference was finishing. Found out – not to my surprise – that I had been elected to the Education Steering Committee in my absence. But nice to be home!!
RANDOM RECENT PICTURES (and I have tried to re-arrange them five times and they and their captions are still all over the place - sorry!)
Gotta be the coolest and the creepiest spare room in Rwanda! Go stay with Sarah, Christiane and Rinske and admire the decor. Hope the kid who used to live there knows a good therapist ...
Déo Gratias, my moto driver (and thanks to all who contributed towards getting him the bike). Today is the second anniversary of his being released from prison, July 6th 2007, after spending fifteen years in prison as a case of mistaken identity.
I think this is my favourite picture so far .. and it isn't even mine, I stole it from Joe Walk's website/blog. Here, Joe is being sworn in as a member of the Rwandan Girl Guides ...
FRIDAY
I forgot to say that the previous day I had again called to the VSO Kenya office which is just down the road from the hotel hoping to see Esther who is the person here who was handling the arrangments for my visit. She turned out to be in a meeting so I left a note explaining what had happened to date and my phone number – I was partly concerned that VSO might end up paying twice – once through the insurance company and then again to me when I claimed back what I had spent.
Later that afternoon, as I was en route from the Doctors’ Plaza to the radiology unit, she rang me, or at least attempted to. It was like a flashback to the Irish telephone system of the 1970s when any long-distance call was a rollercoaster ride into the unknown! Granted her call was being shunted over to Rwanda and back again to me in Kenya but the effects were startling. There was a six-second time delay between one person speaking and the other person hearing (I timed it!) and then you could hear your own voice the second time round as clear as day. However, when the other person spoke, by the time the words arrived, they had been slowed down and distorted like a second-rate special effect from a science fiction film (or a bit like the dream sequences in Twin Peaks, if anyone other than me remembers them). Eventually she gave up, which was probably the right option!
But on Friday morning, just after I had stepped out of the shower, there was a knock on the door and I was told there was a call for me at reception. It was Esther all right and we had a good chat. She explained that she had never received final notification that I was indeed coming (flight details etc) or else there would have been someone to meet me at the airport, they would have given me the documentation I needed etc. (Alfred: Hmmm, if so then why was the accommodation booked, albeit for only two nights?). She wanted to check that I had enough money and whether I needed anything else. I explained that I was actually about to head for the airport but that everything had turned out all right in the end!
And off to the airport I went, a little bit early but I prefer to get there in time and get the hassle over with. Plus I figured I had better allow for Nairobi’s traffic – and I was right. Not that we ran too late but it took much longer than I would have expected. The airport was fine, other than a little difficulty at security where the elderly guard was very concerned that they would not let me on board the plane with my walking stick – I told him I would take my chances! The airport is quite nice actually, despite the various horror stories I had heard about it. I think the problem is that people are often stuck there for eight or twelve hours and nowhere in the world is going to be pleasant in that situation. And maybe it was quieter where I was – mostly local flights within Kenya or to immediately neighbouring countries.
Anyway, bought some clothes in duty free (Alfred: I am so waiting for when we can get a photo of him in his new caftan with the mother-of-pearl buttons and little hat up on the internet – puts that Kampala shirt of his in the shade!), grabbed some lunch and then headed off to the boarding area. Schoolboy error – no fluids in your carry-on luggage!!! There went my bottle of water, small 25cl red wine and a bottle of cane spirit (glad to see the back of that one to be honest!). Like I haven’t travelled often enough to know this but I seem to do it every trip. Thank goodness I had put the plum sauce in the main luggage – that would have been a real disaster!! Plus they missed one of the two small bottles of wine!
Flight was fine, landed on time, almost managed to finish the Stephen King I had begun reading the previous day (Dreamcatcher, OK though it went a bit off the rails towards the end) and then headed to AEE, the guesthouse where the VSO Education Conference was finishing. Found out – not to my surprise – that I had been elected to the Education Steering Committee in my absence. But nice to be home!!
RANDOM RECENT PICTURES (and I have tried to re-arrange them five times and they and their captions are still all over the place - sorry!)
Gotta be the coolest and the creepiest spare room in Rwanda! Go stay with Sarah, Christiane and Rinske and admire the decor. Hope the kid who used to live there knows a good therapist ...
Sitting opposite the Amahoro Stadium waiting for Sarah and this thing showed up - anyone any idea what it is called?
Little kid in the bar opposite Amahoro Stadium - thought she was going to make a grab for the lollipop!!
Déo Gratias, my moto driver (and thanks to all who contributed towards getting him the bike). Today is the second anniversary of his being released from prison, July 6th 2007, after spending fifteen years in prison as a case of mistaken identity.
I think this is my favourite picture so far .. and it isn't even mine, I stole it from Joe Walk's website/blog. Here, Joe is being sworn in as a member of the Rwandan Girl Guides ...
A new Rwandan advertising campaign - I'll let you figure out what it is supposed to be for or against!!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Nairobi Notes 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.
THURSDAY
Late rising, usual breakfast but this time in the company of a very large group of what seemed to be 40 or so American evangelical students or something of that ilk. Nobody should be that loud or cheerful at 0800 in the morning (and I am a morning person). Breakfast was sausages (3), beans (looked like baked beans but slightly spicy and with green bits, hopefully peppers), tomato with cheese on it, fried potatoes, toast (4 pieces), coffee and marmalade. Oh yes!
(Alfred: by now, readers of this and other blogs – and there are MUCH better Rwandan blogs than this one: try Marion at www.heathenblogging.blogspot.com or Bruce’s at www.bruceswanderings.blogspot.com or Tina at www.tinainrwanda.blogspot.com or Joe Walk at www.getjealous.com/Joewalk. Mind you Andy’s at www.andycrow.wordpress.com is ... well, let’s just say the enthusiasm seems to have run out, though the one or two entries he has aren’t bad. Anyway, as I was saying before this enormous tangent (Ruairí: tangents are infinite, mathematically speaking so how can a tangent be enormous?) Oh Jaysus, SO Ruairí. FOOD! VSO volunteers spend insane amounts of time talking about FOOD! Read Bruce’s blog if you don’t believe me, every meal since he arrived lovingly detailed. Ruairí’s too - what herbs and spices he has, seventeen ways to use a leftover cabbage once you have hacked off the black mould, the amazing taste of peanut butter and tea, etc etc etc.) It’s true. I remember when we had just arrived in Kigali and the volunteers who were helping with our training started drooling at the sight of the food which we had been – to be honest – a bit so-so about: now I know exactly what they were on about.
Then, after breakfast (remember breakfast?) I headed to Nakumatt! This is a department store/supermarket à la Tesco, sort of. We have a Nakumatt in Kigali but I wanted to see a Kenyan one. And it was ... a supermarket. Just like at home, to be honest. It did make me worry a bit about reacclimatizing as I found it a bit overwhelming – I mean. Three kinds of Litchee juice? – (Alfred: Ha ha – do Niamh and MT remember our quest for litchee-flavoured genever?) .
Anyway. Enough of that. Bought the surge protectors, groundnuts, chocolate for Déo, sticking plasters, forget what else to be honest. Then I had Szechuan Chicken in the food court and it tasted just like ... Szechuan chicken!! Such a disappointment! In Rwanda the fun is figuring out what they are going to do to the recipe you know, I was actually quite disappointed when it tasted exactly as I would have expected!! And the Tusker beer was definitely underwhelming – give me Primus or Mützig any time. Home to drop the stuff and then off to find an orthopaedic surgeon.
I can’t see my previous entry as I write this so I had better explain. I had the scan at 1700 yesterday so the results won’t be ready until 1700 today. I have no idea whether I will get any interpretation of the results so I want to find a surgeon who is either working late today or early tomorrow to look at the MRI thingies (Alfred: gotta love a guy who prides himself on his English and still uses the word ‘thingies’) and tell me what they mean. So I call into the Doctor’s Plaza – an enormous suite/complex/town of private doctor’s clinics. As I come in with my scuffed sneakers and stick and small backpack I feel SO scruffy!! I go up to the information desk where a very tall Kenyan guy in a blue uniform is slumped over the counter. I explain, slowly, that I am looking for an orthopaedic surgeon for advice about an MRI scan. He picks up a piece of paper and, in about thirty seconds, writes down the names and office numbers of six different surgeons, meanwhile giving me directions and information on which of them are likely to work late, have openings in their appointments books and so on. Wow!
Dr Odinga listens gravely to me, tells me that neither he nor any of his colleagues will be working late that night, expresses a certain amount of scepticism as to whether I am actually likely to get the results this evening but says he will be in at 0800 tomorrow if I want to see him. He also tells me, based on my account of the accident and symptoms, that he suspects all I need is some physiotherapy as my cruciate ligament is probably in need of some help to get back into working order – but he can’t be sure until he sees the scans.
And then off to the radiology clinic. I waited about an hour (I had got there an hour early it should be said) and then the receptionist appeared with my stuff but asked me to wait while she typed it up. Again, both she and the doctor/technician involved seemed to be staying late to accommodate me. Then she presented me with a giant envelope and off I went home.
On the way I had an unusual experience (Alfred: Well, unusual outside of Rwanda) – a guy asked me for money! This was the first time in either Kenya or Uganda anyone had asked me for money! And, seeing as I wasn’t in Rwanda, it was far more subtle and, to be blunt, pleasant. He was originally from Zimbabwe, had been a teacher there but lost his job and ended up here in Nairobi. He talked about the cost of food and accommodation but never actually asked me for anything straight out (Alfred: SUCKER!!!!) So I gave him what he said he needed for dinner, 100 Kenyan shillings which is the princely sum of £1. Sad in quite a number of different ways, both for him and me actually.
Once I got back to the hotel I couldn’t really face heading out again. I looked at all the MRI thingies which looked like those sonograms of embryos in which people claim they can recognise features but actually all look the same (mine being of knees remember). But the accompanying printout was quite detailed and made me decide not to bother going to see the surgeon the following morning (Alfred: And before Seosamh, Orla and any other surgeons out there have a fit let me remind you that a) he had not made an appointment b) Dr Odinga had said he was going to squeeze him in before his regular appointments c) he texted Dr Odinga to say he was not going to come and got a reply acknowledging this. OK? Everyone cool?) So, quiet dinner in the Gracehouse Hotel – quite nice Salade Niçoise - and then Kenyan TV (swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu........) and a few 25cl Casillero del Diablo or whatever they are called. (Alfred: those were from the supermarket around the corner where he also bought rice vinegar, plum sauce, ground ginger, cumin, some mixed Indian pepper spice and other stuff like that. Yeah, like I said earlier – food fixation). And so to bed.
THURSDAY
Late rising, usual breakfast but this time in the company of a very large group of what seemed to be 40 or so American evangelical students or something of that ilk. Nobody should be that loud or cheerful at 0800 in the morning (and I am a morning person). Breakfast was sausages (3), beans (looked like baked beans but slightly spicy and with green bits, hopefully peppers), tomato with cheese on it, fried potatoes, toast (4 pieces), coffee and marmalade. Oh yes!
(Alfred: by now, readers of this and other blogs – and there are MUCH better Rwandan blogs than this one: try Marion at www.heathenblogging.blogspot.com or Bruce’s at www.bruceswanderings.blogspot.com or Tina at www.tinainrwanda.blogspot.com or Joe Walk at www.getjealous.com/Joewalk. Mind you Andy’s at www.andycrow.wordpress.com is ... well, let’s just say the enthusiasm seems to have run out, though the one or two entries he has aren’t bad. Anyway, as I was saying before this enormous tangent (Ruairí: tangents are infinite, mathematically speaking so how can a tangent be enormous?) Oh Jaysus, SO Ruairí. FOOD! VSO volunteers spend insane amounts of time talking about FOOD! Read Bruce’s blog if you don’t believe me, every meal since he arrived lovingly detailed. Ruairí’s too - what herbs and spices he has, seventeen ways to use a leftover cabbage once you have hacked off the black mould, the amazing taste of peanut butter and tea, etc etc etc.) It’s true. I remember when we had just arrived in Kigali and the volunteers who were helping with our training started drooling at the sight of the food which we had been – to be honest – a bit so-so about: now I know exactly what they were on about.
Then, after breakfast (remember breakfast?) I headed to Nakumatt! This is a department store/supermarket à la Tesco, sort of. We have a Nakumatt in Kigali but I wanted to see a Kenyan one. And it was ... a supermarket. Just like at home, to be honest. It did make me worry a bit about reacclimatizing as I found it a bit overwhelming – I mean. Three kinds of Litchee juice? – (Alfred: Ha ha – do Niamh and MT remember our quest for litchee-flavoured genever?) .
Anyway. Enough of that. Bought the surge protectors, groundnuts, chocolate for Déo, sticking plasters, forget what else to be honest. Then I had Szechuan Chicken in the food court and it tasted just like ... Szechuan chicken!! Such a disappointment! In Rwanda the fun is figuring out what they are going to do to the recipe you know, I was actually quite disappointed when it tasted exactly as I would have expected!! And the Tusker beer was definitely underwhelming – give me Primus or Mützig any time. Home to drop the stuff and then off to find an orthopaedic surgeon.
I can’t see my previous entry as I write this so I had better explain. I had the scan at 1700 yesterday so the results won’t be ready until 1700 today. I have no idea whether I will get any interpretation of the results so I want to find a surgeon who is either working late today or early tomorrow to look at the MRI thingies (Alfred: gotta love a guy who prides himself on his English and still uses the word ‘thingies’) and tell me what they mean. So I call into the Doctor’s Plaza – an enormous suite/complex/town of private doctor’s clinics. As I come in with my scuffed sneakers and stick and small backpack I feel SO scruffy!! I go up to the information desk where a very tall Kenyan guy in a blue uniform is slumped over the counter. I explain, slowly, that I am looking for an orthopaedic surgeon for advice about an MRI scan. He picks up a piece of paper and, in about thirty seconds, writes down the names and office numbers of six different surgeons, meanwhile giving me directions and information on which of them are likely to work late, have openings in their appointments books and so on. Wow!
Dr Odinga listens gravely to me, tells me that neither he nor any of his colleagues will be working late that night, expresses a certain amount of scepticism as to whether I am actually likely to get the results this evening but says he will be in at 0800 tomorrow if I want to see him. He also tells me, based on my account of the accident and symptoms, that he suspects all I need is some physiotherapy as my cruciate ligament is probably in need of some help to get back into working order – but he can’t be sure until he sees the scans.
And then off to the radiology clinic. I waited about an hour (I had got there an hour early it should be said) and then the receptionist appeared with my stuff but asked me to wait while she typed it up. Again, both she and the doctor/technician involved seemed to be staying late to accommodate me. Then she presented me with a giant envelope and off I went home.
On the way I had an unusual experience (Alfred: Well, unusual outside of Rwanda) – a guy asked me for money! This was the first time in either Kenya or Uganda anyone had asked me for money! And, seeing as I wasn’t in Rwanda, it was far more subtle and, to be blunt, pleasant. He was originally from Zimbabwe, had been a teacher there but lost his job and ended up here in Nairobi. He talked about the cost of food and accommodation but never actually asked me for anything straight out (Alfred: SUCKER!!!!) So I gave him what he said he needed for dinner, 100 Kenyan shillings which is the princely sum of £1. Sad in quite a number of different ways, both for him and me actually.
Once I got back to the hotel I couldn’t really face heading out again. I looked at all the MRI thingies which looked like those sonograms of embryos in which people claim they can recognise features but actually all look the same (mine being of knees remember). But the accompanying printout was quite detailed and made me decide not to bother going to see the surgeon the following morning (Alfred: And before Seosamh, Orla and any other surgeons out there have a fit let me remind you that a) he had not made an appointment b) Dr Odinga had said he was going to squeeze him in before his regular appointments c) he texted Dr Odinga to say he was not going to come and got a reply acknowledging this. OK? Everyone cool?) So, quiet dinner in the Gracehouse Hotel – quite nice Salade Niçoise - and then Kenyan TV (swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu........) and a few 25cl Casillero del Diablo or whatever they are called. (Alfred: those were from the supermarket around the corner where he also bought rice vinegar, plum sauce, ground ginger, cumin, some mixed Indian pepper spice and other stuff like that. Yeah, like I said earlier – food fixation). And so to bed.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Notes from Nairobi 1
TUESDAY
Flew in from Kigali on the Bjumbura-Nairobi flight. Kenyan Airways was fine, got fed on a one hour flight (you forget people do this kind of thing when you are always going Ryanair). Got in to Nairobi, and found arrivals completely buzzing with people wearing masks and handing out forms for us all to fill out about swine flu! This took a long time, partnered with the visa entry procedures as well. What’s the big idea with swine flu? Hung around the airport for a bit and had a coffee because I like airports (Alfred: Bullshit! He had forgotten to write out the exact address of the hotel and was relying on finding an internet café in the airport to check the email where Charlotte had sent him all the details! Eventually he found a shop that sold maps and was able to figure out where it was from the memory of the Google Map Charlotte had attached! Intrepid explorer ….) Got to the hotel and, en route, had my first experience of Nairobi traffic (and taxi fares) – sweet Lord! The fare was about €20 but that was probably fair enough as it took an hour through insane traffic jams – like Pearse Street on a Friday afternoon. Nice hotel but, as so often happens with VSO, religiously run so no alcohol just when I most needed a beer!
So, interesting thing Number One. I am only booked in for two nights but as today is Tuesday and I am flying out Friday, that means (Alfred: as Herman would say), I have to spend …… three nights in Nairobi. Reception assured me they would either find me a room here or somewhere else for the third night.
Met a guy called Lauren who is working as a conservationist here but whose wife is a doctor (kidney-specialist) in Cameroon. He spent seven years in Cameroon but is now back in Kenya. He was really interested to hear about how things are in Rwanda – he figures they are going to become really important in the East African Community (Alfred: this becomes a bit of a theme later, be warned).
Explored nearby shopping mall, wandered around the supermarket for a bit just for the sheer pleasure of being in a supermarket, bought salt and vinegar-flavoured snacks (!) and some cane spirit (Alfred: health warning – DON’T!). The mall had the kinds of things I had forgotten existed – health food shops, hardware, specialist vegetables, BOOKSHOPS – two of them in one mall! There isn’t a single bookshop in all of Rwanda (Alfred: well, there are three places that CALL themselves bookshops … OK, forget I said anything, point taken). Had somewhat underwhelming dinner in the Gratia/Gracehouse Lodge – it was OK to be fair, actually really good by Rwandan standards (Alfred: he is writing this the FOLLOWING DAY, he has already got used to good food and service!) but the weird bit was the coffee at the end. Kenya produces some of the best coffee in the world – and I got a pot of water and a tin of Nescafé!! Then I retired to watch TV!!! Ah ha! Kenya has just had its first swine flu case – some poor bastard of a British student who spent all year fund-raising and then came out to build houses for orphans and, for his pains, is Kenya’s new Typhoid Mary. That’s what all the fun at the airport is about!
WEDNESDAY
Well, interesting day indeed. Got up late (0700), had breakfast of sausages, beans, tomato and toast with REAL coffee and chatted with my new friend Lauren from Burkina Faso (in English and French). Turns out that is where he is from and he is looking for a job here for his doctor wife so she can come and join him. He was REALLY interested in talking about Rwanda’s new linguistic policy – hope to run into him again!
Then off to shopping mall where I bought a newspaper and discovered that the only place in all of Kenya showing Star Trek is Kisumu, site of the swine flu outbreak and a LONG way from Nairobi! Ah well. Then spent an hour in the bookshop! Oh, the bliss. I swear I just went around and fondled the things. Bought a Stephen King (Dreamcatcher, brilliant) and a Kenyan novel. Chatted to a Kenyan teacher who was hanging around waiting for three colleagues to buy books for the school library (Alfred: more on this in the forthcoming ‘Kenya v. Rwanda’ feature). Hung around hotel a bit and then decided to walk to the hospital for my MRI to kill some time. Called in to the VSO Kenya office en route to alert them to the accommodation problem. They immediately rang the hotel to assure them that whatever the hotel arranged was OK with them. I told the lady at reception I was off to the hospital and she wished me good luck (as did three other staff who called by!).
And off I went. Well. Got to the hospital early (1315 for a 1400 appointment) but figured it always pays to check in early. Too right. Yes, my appointment was on the system but where was my referral documentation or Hospital Appointment form? Apparently someone – whether VSO Rwanda or Kenya – should have given me the documents which would tell the doc what kind of MRI I needed (apparently there are various kinds) (Alfred: Betcha Orla would know!). So, what to do? (Alfred: And, without the documentation, there is no evidence of insurance cover either!) So, did I have my credit card with me? Well, yes but in the hotel because everyone kept telling me stuff gets stolen in Nairobi so I left it behind. In a taxi, back to hotel, grab card, back to hospital, go to Casualty, register, pay 1200 shillings (€14), get triaged, explain I am doing this because I need an MRI, get in queue, eventually (Alfred: and MUCH faster than would be the case in Ireland) get seen by a doctor. Explain story. He writes me out an order for an MRI. Go to cashier and pay $250 for MRI (thank God the credit card worked). Then head to Radiography. It is 1615 and my appointment was for 1400. They tell me they will stay late and take me at 1715! (They usually close up at 1700).
The MRI itself was …. strange. My dear friends Jane and Jane (Keenan and Dawson-Howe) had already scared the crap out of me with their accounts of MRIs (Alfred: Keenan, yes but Dawson-Howe? You sure about that?) In the end, because it was just my knee, they only fed me into the machine up to the chest but even that was enough to get my claustrophobic tendencies going! And the noises? It was like one of Andy Crow’s Kraftwork or Chemical Brothers soundtracks. I swear I could have run an all-night rave on the variations. Anyway, it took 26 minutes and then Nicholas told me the results would be available the following afternoon. Because it was so late, they couldn’t be processed until the following day so around 1700 was the earliest I could get them. He suggested I go to the orthopaedic unit and make an appointment for 1800 or later tomorrow or else just collect the stuff Thursday evening or Friday morning and bring it back to Kigali for someone to look at. I said I would think about it!
Damn! Still no idea what is going on! I got into a taxi and decided to spoil myself. I asked if he knew a restaurant called Carnivore and he did but told me it was a long way away – 1000 shillings worth (€11). I didn’t care. Got there and had a meal. OMG. Meat, meat, meat. Stuff I had forgotten existed. Spicy butternut soup to start. Then – pork sausages, spare ribs, roast chicken breast, roast pork, roast beef, roast chicken wings, crocodile, ostrich meatballs, roast lamb, roast chicken thighs, more roast beef, more roast pork and another genuine pork sausage to finish. (Alfred: pork ribs and chicken wings were nondescript, crocodile not very nice, everything else fabulous). Also one potato, a green salad, some spinach, six sauces (garlic, wargberry (?), barbeque, mint, apple, and chilli), a bottle of house red and coffee. Cost a bloody fortune and I didn’t care. (Alfred: in the interests of accuracy, it was 5,000 shillings or about fifty quid!) Then another 1,200 for the taxi home.
More thoughts on the restaurant anon – it’s midnight and my bed calls. An everlasting ‘Thank You’ (!) to Ciara O’Connor for posting that video on my Facebook page – my revenge will be served cold.
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