Status: Anna is incommunicado.

Feeling a bit frustrated today - this beautifully sunny, umaganda day of coffee, Anna Karenina and the sound of the choir singing next door. This, friends, is my only method of communication with everyone right now. My phone battery is dead and the electricity is off so I can't recharge it. Even if I could I can't text some people, and can't recieve texts from others. Hmmmm...That's no big deal because I have a modem, airtime and one hour left of battery life on my computer. The internet appears to be working EXCEPT every website that I use to communicate back home. Yahoo and Facebook are not working. My work account is not working.  I can go to google, type in "incommunicado" and get 860,000 working websites but can't get to my freaking email! My browser can't find the server all of a sudden. Sure it can't. It's just trying to frustrate me.....Hope it's up and working soon.

5 Months In...

The week has wrapped up and it was as hectic as I anticipated. The English training was finishing and a new volunteer, Jeremy, was going to arrive on Wednesday. He’ll be living with Jason and working with me as an Education Management Advisor. I scheduled a morning school visit so as to be back in Kibungo by lunch time to greet our new mzungu. Of course, I was anticipating things to run smoothly. The vehicles at the district were suddenly made unavailable and Jeremy had the pleasure of riding in a bus – by himself! – all the way to Kibungo. Now, that’s arriving in style! So I met the two J’s (as I will begin to affectionately call them) at St. Joseph’s for beer and brochettes. Suzanne and Frodauld joined us to formally welcome the new colleague. He is very relaxed and whereas I was freaking out about everything when I first got here (silently of course…), Jeremy just rolls with it – which is probably the single most important skill to have here. The roll-with-it-ness factor. Plus he also has the bring-chocolate-when-you-come factor, for which I’m equally grateful because my pre-Christmas stash is slowly (okay not slowly) disappearing.

 Thursday we spent part of the morning at the office and then Jason and I got to take Jeremy on a tour of the bustling metropolis. We walked from bank to hospital (which is the 5km length of the town) and took motos in between. As usually happens when visitors arrive to your home, you begin to see things through fresh eyes and see things you didn’t’ know where there. Take, for example, the “Bar Resto Progress.” They have a simple and cheap mélange but with amazing chips. It’s all the way into town and too far to go regularly but nice to know it’s there and with such a fantastic name, you surely can’t go wrong. Give it a month or two and…..Of course, Moses at Moderne is waiting for us to visit (as per his MIDDLE FO THE NIGHT text message to me).  Still, a change of mélange is just as good as a rest from mélange. No, wait. That’s not true. Melange is mélange.

 Today was the final day for the English training and the district organized events at the various centres. Jason headed to his sector and Jeremy and I got bikes to get to Teacher Training Centre (TTC) Zaza for 10am and the beginning of the ceremony. Of course, I had to drop things off at my house first and so we left late and didn’t arrive until about 10:30. No matter. The celebration was delayed anyway. It began at 1:00pm!!! Three hours late!! We were waiting for someone from the district to come. The setting was wonderful. The teachers at Zaza really put on the dog. (Is that the saying anyway? And if so, who came up with it?) There were tables with table cloths for the dignitaries (of which, we were a part) and signs welcoming us. I have to say, though, that the thing that impressed me the most was the fact that all the speeches to the English trainees were in English! This is a country that is trying to hard to learn English and is, at the same time, so proud of its own language. Teachers speak English while teaching but meetings are held in Kinyarwanda and that’s the language that they use to communicate. I was just so impressed that the head teachers and even the representative from the District, got up and spoke in English. I can’t imagine how hard it was. I was nervous giving my speach and I’m a native English speaker. If I had to speak Kinyarwanda I would say three things: Hello. Thank you. Good bye. I did joke, though, that it was the first meeting or celebration that I’d been to in the last five months that I actually understood! That got a laugh from the group. After speeches came Fantas and lunch. We finally headed home at about 3:00. It was so great to see the teachers again. I’m starting to remember faces and names and feel welcome wherever I go.

 We arrived at the district hot and dusty and headed to the romp rond (round about in English, pronounced “Romp way” here) for a beer with Jason and then and introduction to the Kibungo market for Jeremy. Finally I went into to see Consolee for some bread and we walked to my house together where she insisted that she carry my bag from the market. She is possible the sweetest person in town and a great French and Kinyarwanda teacher. She forces me to learn and makes me repeat things over and over…and that’s just while I buy my bread!!!

So, I came to watch the full moon rise over the valley and over my house. I re-heated some leftovers and I’m resting now. This life is a simple life but it’s an exhausting one. I shake more hands with people in a day than Obama running for president. I’m an introvert….I know that….and so while I love to be out there and smiling and saying “Mwiriwe!” to the population of Kibungo, it does tire me out. But wow, do I feel at home here. And as I say that, I look at my watch. It’s been exactly 5 months since I arrived in this great country. Wow…where has the time gone?

....and we really felt it.

The Zaza boyz.... Why is it though that they are laughing and joking but NEVER smiling in the photo? Ah well! Isaac, Andrew and Thibiti! Thanks for your hard work. Well done!

Okay, okay...let's all get in the photo. Charles joined us (and his scarf). He was fantastic and led all the teachers in songs after the speeches. He teaches in Kigali and I think he's students are lucky to have him.

Preparing our lunch at the TTC.

This is what the hall looked like at 10am.

This is what is looked like at 2pm! 

A week and random pictures

Patrick and I on this steep rocky hill just after I told him we were going to the wrong school. He hopped off, pushed the bike part of the way up the hill before I got on and were were off. Nakibazo! (No problem)

I always drive passed this field of pineapples and something usually prevents me from taking pictures: I've forgotten my camera, it's raining, or the time that Patrick had his motorbike taken by the police...... This time we stopped and it was well worth it. When I returned back to the office, Jason - who is trying to plot our schools on GoogleEarth because there exist no good maps - ask me to where Kanazi school was. I had difficulty explaining it until I said, "Well, from the pineapples you...." I thought he would look at me like I was crazy but of course he said "Oh right. Yes, the pineapples." We are beginning to give directions like the locals.

Who knew that this is what pineapples looked like? My learning curve just gets steeper and steeper.

I spent one afternoon getting sample rice sack resources ready for the training in February. I know, I know...you're all finding it hard to believe that I've never taught elementary school....(if writing neatly on rice sacks was all it took - sign me up!) 

My goal is to have one of these in each classroom in my focus schools (five schools in total) so that students have constant exposure to something simple and in English.

This is a game called "Alpahbet Toss". Students pick a topic and then through a stone. Whichever letter the stone lands on, the must come up with a vocabulary word beginning with that letter. Could use Fanta tops for different players and could give each a point value (like Scrabble). We'll see how it actually works in practice. I'll let you know.

Patrick is currently practicing to get his vehicle liscience. This is the soccer field near the district where they practice driving. The vehicle is the only driving school vehicle in town.

The AMA, Rwandan-style

Conversations with Patrick

Conversations with Patrick range from complete confusion to hilarious. Mostly this had to do with language and, admittedly, there is a fine line between the two. It usually has to do with my attitude. He's desperate to learn English and I want to learn Kinyarwanda so our rides usually look like a cross between dirt biking and ESL lessons.....

Take, for example, the other day when I told Patrick we were going to a school which I was certain was in Sake Sector. I was certain that's where we were going. The day before I even confirmed this with him the day before. So I said, in the morning, okay we're going to Sakara and he looked a bit confused and said okay. But then he totally went off in the wrong direction and I was saying "Patrick, Sake Sector?" and he kept saying "No. Sakara is in Murama Sector." I argued for a minute until I realized that I need to trust him because he know the area. Murama Sector. That's where we were headed. Until NO! I realized, that we had been to Sakara yesterday. What I wanted, infact, was Kanazi School in Sake Sector. I had the school wrong the whole time. Of course, when did I choose to tell Patrick this? When we were on a 70% grade hill that was basically a path of sheer rock. I tap him on the shoulder and say "Oh Patrick! Sorry! Kanazi in Sake. Not Sakara" (you may all be thinking...what's the difference???) Only about 30 minutes and good quality roads. That's the difference! Anyway, poor Patrick slams on the breaks and we stop party way down the steep path. Okay. No problem. I get off the bike and Patrick turns it around to face up hill. One thing about Rwanda moto drivers is that they NEVER get off their bikes. Not even to move five feet. Never mind. I got back on the bike and nearly falling backward, Patrick guns it to head back up the hill. We eventually make our way, me apologizing, and Patrick half turns and says,

"Anna, how do you say fatigue, in English?"

"Tired."

"Anna. You're tired."

Thanks Patrick....

-----------------

That's nothing, though. This is a typical conversation with Patrick and I think I've had it about four times. Keep in mind that Patrick is married and I have manage to convince him that it is actually not a good thing to have both a wife and a girl friend. Keep in mind, also, that the word "good" in Rwanda is used to mean good-looking or pretty. It seems to never change! Never!

"Anna? You. Boyfriend?"

"No, Patrick. I don't have a boyfriend."

"No Rwandan boyfriend?"

"No Patrick?"

"Rwandan boyfriend is good!"

"I don't want a boyfriend."

"You? No boyfriend in Canada?"

"No. No boyfriend in Canada."

"Anna? What's the problem?"

Me: Sigh...... "No problem Patrick."

"Oh. Anna? Christine. Your friend. Christine is good girl."

"Yes Patrick."

"Christine boyfriend?"

...... and so it goes.....

Temporary Blog Change

I think I am starting to forget my given name.....when I remember, I'll let you know.

Trip to the Post Office

A while ago I went to the post office to mail some parcels. There, in the mail box, were two slips for parcel pick up addressed to Tina. Tina doesn't live here anymore but I was sending some things back to her I decided to pay the fee, collect the parcels and take a moto home. The clerk pointed to a large mail bag in the back and I assumed the parcel was in there and he meant that it would take a moment to get.  I paid the fee (which was small and usually indicative of the size of parcel) and then the clerk ask me if I had a car. (I laughed). As it turns out, the large mail bag - and the two others next to it - were all for Tina! How would I take these back on a moto? What were they? I went around and saw that they were all used books for the library that she had wanted to start. So, a week later I finally found that Francis had sometime (and a Rav 4) and we went yesterday to pick them up. My plan is to build a library at one of the local schools that will serve a Regional library for the sector. I have so many ideas that I'm just bursting to begin! When I got the books home I sorted through them and categorized them into different areas. I also tossed some that were inappropriate. Maybe it's looking a gift horse in the mouth but kids in Africa don't deserve books that are torn and ripped and have pages stuck together. Most of the books are in great shape and most have neutral content. I did decided that the book called "Wow! School!" should not be included. There are large glossy pages with pictures of a typical Western School that says things like "Wow! Art class!", "Wow! Playground!", "Wow! Books!", "Wow! Lunch!" -- all of which the kids here don't get. Other than that, there are some great resources and I really hope this project is a success.

Loaded and ready to go!

Thanks US Postal Service!

Piled on my table before the organization begins.

I think this book is perfect for Rwanda.....

It really is a small world.

Now, I know Rwanda is a small country....but as it turns out, the world is pretty small too.

So my old roommate, Emily, and I would go out in Edmonton and I would run into people I know. Or she would introduce me to someone she met and we'd chat and it would turn out that we knew a bunch of people in common. It used to drive her crazy and she'd start to never been surprised that I'd meet someone who knew someone I knew. That's the reality of moving around a lot as a kid, I guess. It's like a real life facebook. So, when we walked into the tourist office in Dawson City and I knew the girl working there, her response was "Of course you do!" I was even at a bridal shower in Halifax, NS and we went to a bar where I ran into a guy who, as it turned out after many "Don't I know you from somewhere?"s from him and a  number of "Mmm, I don't think so"s from me, WAS infact a guy that I knew in Grande Prairie, AB. So yes, it's a small world. You really do just have to look at facebook to realize it, I guess. (Although it's a bit exaggerated in that NOBODY really has 337 friends .... well, unless you're Piket....but that's another story). Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, small world, facebook and all that. 

Well, last night was the VSO Family Dinner in Kigali. A new intake of volunteers arrived last week and the family dinner is a sort of "welcome to the family". I'd been in touch with an incoming volunteer from Calgary who was about my parents' age and finally got to meet her. But here's not where the world gets small. So we're from the same city but that's not the crazy part. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: "So, have you always lived in Calgary?"

S: "No I lived in north also."

Me: "Oh where? I used to live in the north"

S: "Oh Inuvik, Fort something or other, Fort something else or other"

Me: "I lived in Inuvik in 1981."

S: "I was there in the seventies." (no link yet)

Me: "My parents taught all over the north. In...what's it called? It's Iqaluit now but it was call....Oh....Frobisher Bay."

S: Staring at me...."You're not J's daughter are you?"

Me: "Yes!"

S: "And is your mom A?"

Me: "Yes!"

S: "So he did marry her then?? (Me thinking: Thankfully or this could be awkward.) Oh he used to talk about her all the time!"

______

As it turns out, Shala taught with my dad in the north in the early seventies and now, here she is in Rwanda, and we'd been emailing the few weeks leading up to this. Now THAT is a small world.

_______

The rest of the weekend was a stress free Kigali trip. I chose to do no errands and buy nothing (save for the bread and yogurt on my way to catch the bus home). Friday the Global Schools Partnership meeting we discussed how to better link Rwandan schools with UK schools though the Global Gateway website. Sarah and I agreed to work on the Rwandan national "General Paper" curriculum which includes a meeting on the 2nd with VSO and then a meeting on the 3rd with the National Curriculum Development Centre. Basically, we want to work with this national body to improve the curriculum, generally, and integrate Global Education into it specifically. Of course when we realized we had to attend the NCDC meeting my first response was "But I don't have any grown up clothes!" (I spend most of my days in rural schools and on motorbikes and so my teaching clothes are all at home.....) I'm excited about working with the curriculum because I really believe that the success of the education program here depends, first, on having a workable and teacher-friendly curriculum that helps teachers and gives them something to start from. 

After this was our bookswap which was good and then a rain storm that lasted so long I was sure I wasn't going to wear my new fancy Zanzibar dress to the family dinner. We had coffees at Shockolat and then grabbed a taxi for the accommodation. The family dinner was good and the dancers much better than when we came in August. Amy did an icebreaker which simulated cramming people into a mini-taxi bus seven people across. She did a good job and I took away some ideas to take into schools. Dinner was good even if the power surges meant that the florescent lights kept going on and off! There is a good group of people who just arrived. Jeremy comes to Kibungo on Wednesday and we'll be working closely together. 

I'm home and STILL trying to deal with bed bug issue, although upon consultation with a number of volunteers, we're not sure they are bed bugs. It's something. So today I've taken their advice. I'm putting all my sheets and blankets in boiling water, pouring boiling water on my furniture, spraying my mattress and sitting it in the sun and....HOPEFULLY this works. Rumor has it that volunteers are all getting new mattresses so this might save me the task of doing it myself. Here's hoping.....

Anyway, this weekend is another moto-filled week, with Jeremy's arrival on Wednesday and the conclusion of the English training on Friday. Monday is the first day of school for the little ones and.....rumor has it that it might be a holiday. Go figure. 

And my dentist says I don't floss!

After four days of moto riding I decided to give my legs a rest and do something productive - namely deal with the bed bugs once and for all. So I went to the office in the morning to work because the generator was running. (Kibungo no longer has power during the day until some repairs are made maybe be the end of next week). I did a lot of work and mostly just sorted through emails from VSO and downloaded things and sent things to volunteers. That sort of stuff. I thought I'd come home in the sunshine, get my mattress out there, spray, wash. All that fun stuff. Of course it was raining....but as I pulled my mattress off to spray it (with this stuff that, by the way, is banned in the developing world....) I noticed the stiches were loose. See, bed bugs shouldn't survive the toxic shower that I give them every so often, but they do - somehow. I think this is how. I think they are actually in my "Rwanda Foam" mattress. So, I head to the round about to see about getting some more spray (I was out) and maybe the cost of a new mattress in case it comes to that. See there are other beds in this house but since I switched bedrooms, I really like it here and the bedroom has electricty and light gets in and I really want to stay! But I saw Consolee and she told me I could only get a new mattress in Kigali but suggested I sew it up! Genius! Of course this was all communicated through French, Kinyarwanda and hand gestures. I came home, cranked up my music and took out the dental floss. An hour and half later, that baby was stiched up like a heart patient just in time for me to get a call from Ang before she left for work. A great talk (she laughed about dental floss to prevent bed bugs....) and then I had to get ready for Dorothy's arrival. The power did not come on until about 9:30 so we cooked and ate in the dark. 

We were up early to catch a bus for a Global Schools Partnership Committee meeting at 10am and then book swap at noon. As luck would have it, we stepped outside my gate and a nice big Sotra bus was waiting for us. On to Kigali for another full weekend of VSO activities. 

I think this might help. The top is the new stitch and the bottom is the old one. See how bed bugs can get through? 

Just a day in January (and my brother's birthday)

So, my blog has been a snap shot of the last few weeks which have been filled with school visits, boiling water for a shower, watching Lost or Blue Planet before collapsing into my bed and reading a few chapters of Anna Karenina before falling asleep. Yup, that’s about it! It’s a good life and one that lends itself to lots of reflection. A LOT. I don’t even concentrate on the staying the bike anymore, so those hours I spend on the bike give me chances to think about life here. You know, it was just yesterday as I was enjoying a nice warm bucket shower (I’m totally over cold showers. That’s so last year….), and I thought “Holy crap. I live in the middle of Africa!” Believe it or not, I often forget that. It’s not like there are lions walking past my house. I don’t live in a mud hut. I can get the things I need. Life is just life here. It’s only when I think of it from an outsiders view or from that vantage point that I’ll have in a few months called hindsight, that I realize what an experience this really is. How easy it is to forget when life is just life, wherever you are. You get up the morning, have a coffee, brush your teeth and go to work. So do I. What’s the difference? None! Life is life and so this blog is less of an adventure story now. It’s just a story about someone’s life. Kind of mundane when you think about it. But I need to take a step back and remember that this is not mundane. This is an experience and after all “holy crap! I’m in the middle of Africa!” With that…here are just a few thoughts

 

-       there is a wonderful old man in Kibungo that every time he sees me he says “Canada!” with a big grin, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a hanky. He unwraps that hanky and pulls out a shiny Canadian quarter. He is so proud of it. Of course yesterday all the moto guys were asking the value of it in Francs. I think the man was sad to learn that it was only about 120 francs. But still, he wrapped it up and put it back in his pocket. And they think it’s funny that there is a “caribou” on it, when “karibu” in Swahili means “welcome.” Don’t even get me started to why there is a queen on it.

-       The Winter Olympics begin soon but I keep forgetting. I’m trying to pay attention and look it up on the news but I also keep forgetting that it’s winter in some parts of the world. Truth be told I keep forgetting what winter is. But I digress. I just want you all to make sure that you are watching the Olympics and cheering for my old junior high classmate Ryan Blais who is on the Canadian free style team. (Okay, I think it’s freestyle….) Either way, he’s a local and needs a cheering on!

-       I was pretty sure I’d mastered telling time in Kinyarwanda which is a complicated system of knowing numbers in Swahili, dropping the first letter and then adding six. Anyhow, I had asked my domestique to come at 7am to collect her salary and told her in Kinyarwanda. How surprised was I to hear the door open at 6:05am as I was reaching to turn off my alarm clock. In my daze I thought “No, I’m sure I know how to say the time.” I did ask her and I was right. She was early but had to get to my house before heading off to church. Okay, I guess I let it slip this time

-       Driving to a school today with Patrick, he slowed down as we passed through a village. He pointed and told me that it was the village his wife comes from. He pointed to an empty space and explained that her family was there but they were all killed in the genocide and now it is just her and there is no house anymore.

-       The bustling town of Kibungo is apparently getting fibre optic cables. I don’t know what they are or what they do (and I’m sure that most locals don’t either ) but we ALL know the reason that we have daily power cuts from 7am until 5pm. “They are laying fibre optic cables.” Sounds great but honestly? One month of no power in the day. My office has a generator which is a good thing but the papaterie across the street where I get my copying done doesn’t. So today I had to wait until 5:30pm to get my copies done – just as they were closing.

-       I kill and average of 2 spiders a day. And I know I shouldn’t. Not because it will rain (the Eastern Province could always use more rain) but because my friend Sarah is convinced that if we kill them we’ll come back as a spider and “two legs are hard enough to manage. Imagine how exhausting it would be to manage eight!”

-       I’m reading Anna Karenina right now. I am really enjoying it but don’t think I’ll have it finished for the VSO first ever Rwandan book swap on Saturday! I’m so excited to start a book swap here. I think the Calgary one is still going strong. My opinion – book swaps are a million times better than book clubs. Basically – if you were wondering – my friend Katie and I (over two bottles of read wine) came up with the idea. Instead of a book club where everyone buys and is forced to read the same book, you swap your books. You each bring two books you’ve read and want to recommend and don’t mind lending. You put your books on the table and then you take ones you want to read. Next book swap, you bring them back. Simple. We started in Calgary by bringing two or three books and having a few snacks. It became us bringing bags (or in Ang’s case) a box of books, eating a lot of food and chatting. Last year we finished by seeing “My Sister’s Keeper” the movie – because we’d all read the book. I’m exciting for the Kigali version but am looking forward to the Calgary group. You know, now that I think about it. I might really miss those girls and the books and food.

-       I was out at schools today and had a great time. I watched a lesson where the teacher superbly (in my opinion) corrected and helped improve English. It was great. They also learned a few songs to teach their kids. We all had a laugh at trying to sing “Row Your Boat” because Rwandans have a tough time pronouncing “r” and “l”. They often come out sounding the same which makes “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily” very difficult. We all had a good laugh. These were a small but very committed group of teachers who just needed some acknowledgement of their hard word. Oh and there were children in the area who were literally hanging off the windows outside and trying to sing along with us!

-       Oh and today is my “little” brother’s 29^th birthday. I called him today thinking that I’d be waking him up. Apparently his “matured” because he was awake. Anyway, Happy Birthday Pat!

 

So, this weekend I’m going to Kigali (again!) for a Global Schools Partnership Meeting (which we convinced them to have early and at the same restaurant as the books swap), Book Swap and then VSO family dinner which will be good food, traditional dancing and a chance to meet all the new volunteers.

 

Another day at the office

I remembered my camera today! Rear end still sore from the day before I climbed on the bike again and we road to a school in the district. At 8:10 (ten minutes after the English lesson was supposed to begin) there were only 7 out of 60 teachers there! Slowly, slowly they arrived and the lesson was quite good. The trainer was there on tine and he was great. The topic was “Sports and Hobbies” and I told them how happy I was that they put down skiing! I explained the difference between skating and skiing (both of which most have never heard of) and I explained that the Winter Olympics will begin in Canada soon. And I explained hockey. What a bizarre sport it is, when you think about it: you skate around with sticks and hit a ball (they don’t know what a puck is) and sometimes you hit each other like this! (Me body checking another teacher). Yes, a strange sport indeed.

 

After the first school we decided to go onto another school which involved biking in the most narrow, rutted roads I’ve been on so far. My body is absolutely jarred. Most times we weren’t on “roads” but more like single track trails for mountain biking. We drove through a big puddle near some rice fields and passed a herd of cattle which I thought for sure would chase us down. Now, back at the district and my body is feeling everything. Tomorrow is one more day of two schools and I think I’ll leave Friday for working in the office. 

Patrick wondering how we'll get around. In the distance you can see a refugee camp for Rwandans coming from Tanzania.

Patrick likes playing with my camera and insisted I be in a picture. I avoid taking my helmet off now...it's such a hassle. 

A farm in Remera sector (I think)

This is the first herd of cattle I've seen. Some people have one or two but a herd is rare.

Back at the office, head teachers arrived to get training manuals for teachers. They will hopefully use many of these activities in their classrooms in February.

I forgot my camera again!

Despite making the promise to myself, I forgot my camera again! 

This morning I headed out early for another school visit and I decided to be ambitious and go out to Jarama. It's not a good sign when locals laugh and say 'Whoa! That's far." What's "far" to a Canadian, though? 10 hours to Vancouver is a day trip, after all. This isn't even that far. So, an hour on the moto should be fine, right? Right! Okay, so I wasn't considering that a) it's a motorcycle, not a comfortable VW Golf with good music and that b) the road is not paved and it's rainy season so it's not even flat. It's full of ruts and ditches and goats and people. Patrick more or less knew how to get there but we had to stop and ask for directions. Thankfull the popoulation density of Ngoma District is no less than 319 people per square kilometer. (Look up Canada's...) So we could ask many people for directions and we were all heading to in the right direction when we came a fork in the road and, for the first time, no people. Like this is the only place in Rwanda with no people but...not for long. Okay, get directions and continue on. We arrived over an hour after we left. It was a beautiful drive around Lake Sake and rice fields and the land stretch before me. I was so close to Burundi that my cellphone automatically changed to the MTN equivalent. I got off the bike, shaky and sore and tired and tried to send an SMS to my director but hit send twice to the wrong person first.....Okay, so quick 2 hours at Jarama and then on the bike again to Gashanda where I watch a sample lesson of a teacher teaching colours. She had the teachers "race" to pick up items of a certain colour. Those teachers are competitive. One even took off her glasses to get in there and win. Half way through the evaluation the rain and hail started and things have to virtually stop. The noise on the tin roofs is deafening. I gave the trainer a few ideas for "rain delays" which may help but it's nearly impossible to do anything until the rain lets up. Which it did in time for me to journey back to the district. Got there and saw Frodauld who was busy as usually. Made a few copies of evaluation sheets (while the rain came again) and headed home when the rain stopped.

Back home I started to take apart my keronsene stoves which, incidently, aren't 100% fixed. Why I thought this was a good idea, I don't know. My electricity wasn't even working so I thought 'If I break these, I'll having nothing to cook with tonight' but thankfully I'd bought Kibungo's version of McDonald's. The only fast food here are samosas. Deep friend and tasty but I don't think I'll eat them when I'm back in Canada. Stove apart and spread over my back year and my phone rings. It's Elie here for my French lesson which I have change to once a week Kinyarwanda lesson instead. I'm just so tired that twice a week is too much and I think I want to work on Kinya to be able to communicate a bit better instead of saying the same old thing. The lesson was mbeza (good) and after he left, Jean my guard, and I worked at the stoves. He gave me a stick and I did it! I changed the wicks on the stove and put it back together. I felt like a frickin' genius. I had been getting frustrated because it wasn't working and Old Anna would likely have given up and got someone else to do it for me. But there is a sense of satisfaction in doing things yourself. Ha! you're all saying.....no kidding. Yes, well, there are things I'm learning here.

So, tonight I finally sat down with two pots of water boiling (one on my electric burner that I got a few weeks ago) and one on my newly fixed and working like a charm kerosene stove. Water for washing, boiling and a great bucket shower. I'm still nursing bed bug bites and am frustrated but for now, a few things are going right! Tomorrow I've said only one school visit. My tail bone and abs are suffering just a tad from the Long Way Down and so I think 30 minutes one way is about all I can handle. Plus it's market day and I need carrots. I hope they have them.....

English Training in Murama and Rukira

Murama and Rukira Sectors

Week number two of English training centre inspections today began a little late….only a few minutes because I got a surprise phone call from Aimey. It’s a good way to start the week and I arrived at the office in time to greet Francis, our new director. Of course, Francis was out and Frodauld was at a meeting and so Laurent helped me explain our plan to my new moto driver, Sim. Patrick will still drive me occasionally but I’ve been having difficulty reaching him and he’s had to cancel at the last minute before. So Sim and I head off toward Rurenge school. This is one of my favourite roads ( I have many) because it’s the road to Tanzania and today as we snaked along down toward the valley, the mist came upon us and the tempurature dropped. Both Sim and I had to wipe our visors often as we raced along through the fog. Once at the bottom of the valley we sped along until a dirt road (I’d never find my way through this country on my own) where Sim took a sharp left up the dirt road and out of the fog. We find ourselves in the right neighbourhood but at the Rurenge Catholique and we’re supposed to be at Rurenge Protestant. No matter! (as they say here…) we got directions and I arrived to an English lesson already in full swing. If I haven’t written his before, the start of the new school year has been postponed by a month so that all teachers in the country can receive English training. My job is to, with the help of Jason, inspect the sites to make sure they are running smoothly and that the teacher is teaching in a learner centred manner. Rurenge was a pleasure to visit and once I was done there I head over through Rukira sector to Gitwe school where they are a short a trainer and have squeezed everyone into one room. The trainer had to go to Kigali for a funeral and so the numbers in the class are now quite big but the trainer does a good job of adapting. This visit is shorter than expected because there is only one trainer so, after a debrief with the Head Master, Sim and I head back to Kibungo. I go the post office to mail a few things and then pop by to give a summary to Francis. We’ve agreed tomorrow that I’ll go out to Jarama, which is about an hour (I think) by motorcycle.

Part of why I came to Rwanda was for my own professional development. I knew I would grow and learn (how to use a kerosene stove, how to filter your water, how to kill spiders the size of Russia….) but I was also hoping to learn some new teaching tricks to take back to the classroom. Today I did! When I put kids in groups I usually give them each a role (Speaker, Recorder, Leader etc.). Today, one of the trainers used a role call a “Spy.” Their role is to go around and “spy” on the other groups to see what they are doing and make sure their own group is on task. Great idea! So, today was a pretty good day. The only bad things I can see so far (and no, it’s not that fact that my water and electricity aren’t working) is that I forgot to bring my camera to take pictures of the scenery.

Clarification...ur...retraction...ur....

To clarify, my parents did not abandon all parental responsibilities for a game or two of bridge. They simply instilled in us the values of independence, self-reliance, problem solving and a whole host of other skills that have enabled me to travel across the world and live in Africa. Thanks Mom and Dad!! 

My family, for those of you who might have read my parents comments for the post about New Year's Eve, have so many inside jokes that I truly believe outsiders think us a bit nutty. We, on the other hand, think we're hilarious. And if you don't think we're hilarious, too bad for you.

(And if you don't think we're hilarious, you might also think my parents really did abandon us. There may be some people who read this blog who lack a sense of humour -- although I hope not - and therefore should know that my parents are the greatest parents. Except for maybe Mary and Joseph because, you know, the whole Son of God thing....okay there I go again. Appealing only to those of you with a sense of humor. Sorry, I won't do it again.)

Good days are all in how you see them...

You know, in a parallel universe, another Anna is having a terrible day. She woke up late, couldn’t find a moto into Chez Lando, Ndoli’s supermarket was closed so she couldn’t buy coffee or peanut butter to take back to Kibungo, should would have gotten a new, clean Atraco bus into town for only 150 francs, the people on the bus would have been rude, her bag of tin cans would have split open all over the road, Bourbon would have been closed, Skype wouldn’t have worked, she wouldn’t have a caught a bus on time and arrived in Kibungo exactly 2 hours later, and finally, she would have gotten home to no power and now water.

Yes, this may be happening in a parallel universe. But like anything here in Rwanda or in the life of a VSO volunteer, attitude might not change the circumstances, but it does change the perception of it. 

I woke up early and hopped on the first moto that I saw. We drove through the thick fog and I couldn’t be scared because I was on a blue helmet moto which don’t go very fast. We pulled in front on Ndolis (where they sell good peanut butter) but it looked closed. Lucky for me the back door was open and I bought two jars ON SALE for only 1500 francs!! Whoo hoo. I caught a bus to the centre and with my massive bags had help from a lady to tuck them away under her seat, since I was in the jump seat and had to get up and move every time someone wanted to get up and go. Thankfully she noticed that my massive paper bag (remember, plastic is illegal here) was ripping and a tin of lentils almost ready to burst forward.

I got to Bourbon at 8am on the dot and Skpye and the Internet worked like a charm. I talked with Aimey for like 2 hours (maybe over the ½ hour that Bourbon allows but  it was important!). It was so great to chat and we began to talk about what to do and where to go when she gets here in July. Coffee was great, breakfast was great and I caught a small bus back to Kibungo. These little busses are usually so awful but today – not so awful. See? Perception….. I listened to new music courtesy of Sarah and made some awesome new playlists on my Ipod. My new favourite group is Bright Eyes. (Thanks Sarah!) I arrived home to electricity! Actually, my domestic left all the lights on and I’ve been away for a few days but….perception….my power was on! And the water. Well, something is running out of the taps. I wouldn’t exactly call it water….but it will flush the toilet so I really can’t complain.

So today, a short trip to the market. Christine will come here tonight on her way back from Kigali and I think I won’t cook. Beer, brochette and potatoes sounds good to me. 

Next weekend I’m back in Kigali for the family dinner. See, today is the next intact of new VSO volunteers. It’s so strange to me to think that almost 5 months ago, I was in that group. I can almost feel the excitement and nervousness in Kigali from all the way over here. I remember how I felt getting here and now there is a new group of arrivals. I’ll no longer be the new volunteer in town. It’s a good feeling to know I made it to here. We always said – just make to Christmas and the rest will be down hill. Wow. Time has flown.

This week I will be out doing school inspections for nation wide English classes. Moto rides, evaluation, meeting teachers and writing reports. It’s a good chance for me to connect with many teachers in a short time so I’m looking forward to it. I’m only hoping it won’t rain – too much. 

Back at the Bates Motel

So I'm in Kigali for a few days for and we're all back a Le Bambou. About the only redeeming thing about this place is the comfortable beds, the good food (even if it is always an hour late) and (when it's working) the hot water. We arrived at we're in the middle of nowhere. This morning there is eerie fog in the valley and we're the only guests. On the surface - the first time we were here - we all thought it was beautiful and lovely. And things went wrong. Things went terribly wrong..... 

Okay, that's a bit dramatic, isn't it? But, the staff - as friendly as they are - I don't think have ever ran a hotel. The things that were broken in November are still broken. Cow toilet seat is not attached to the leaking toilet, water is all over our bathroom floor, hot water rarely works, food is constantly late and when it comes out it is cold, when it rains (which is does now because we're in rainy season), the roof leaks......They have made some improvements though - yesterday they made our beds and gave us new soap. However....our towels are still wet and we must get our own toilet paper and this morning there is NO water!.....The last time we were here was the first time VSO had used it. They asked our opinion if we should be here again and we all clearly said NO. All of us said this. Clearly. I'm not sure why we were asked if we are here again.

Oh well...no one has disappeared and thankfully shower curtains don't exist in Rwanda.

My first "real" New Year's experience

So January has been sold to another generous bidder. Literally, a bidder…..remember my story about my parents playing bridge in the Yukon? Okay so F. and A. Lemphers are like my second parents – if I haven’t said that before. I would say “they practically raised me” but as you may recall, the TV and beta max raised us when we were out on the Marge of Lake Labarge and our parents were playing bridge. Okay…not exactly but it makes for a good story.

 As promised, if you donate to CUSO-VSO, I will sell you a month. I’ll try to find a wacky and maybe even hilarious story to tell online to thank you publically. This month is no exception. I think that January was the perfect month to sell the Lemphers because this story is about the first New Year’s Eve that I threw up. Yes, full, in the toilet barfing and it’s all Mrs. Lempher’s fault! Stories of New Year’s Eve and throwing up shouldn’t really sound any alarm bells. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about? So, you’re thinking “she must have been a teenager and snuck into the liquor cabinet while her parents were playing bridge and too much Drambuie?”  Not exactly. First of all, I was ten. Second of all, there was no alcohol involved.

 It was New Year’s Even 1989. We were about to ring in the decade of grunge music, the Gulf War and a Liberal return to power. This year, as with every year, we were getting together with the Lemphers. But instead of making the trip out the Lake Labarge, they drove into the metropolis of Whitehorse (Tamarack Drive, specifically) and settled into a game of bridge at the dining room table almost immediately. My brothers and the Lemphers boys headed downstairs to watch some “boy” movie like Batman or Indian Jones and the Last Crusade and I, because I was 10 and way to mature for them, hid in my parents room watching made for t.v. Christmas specials. I had some chips and some pop and was pretty comfortable. I even grabbed one of these sweet scone type things with a sweet nutty icing on them that Mrs. Lemphers brought over. They were about the size of the palm of my hand. Now, I remember them being the size of an adult palm but I was ten. Either way, they were big. So I settled in and took a bite of the scone. OMG it was so good. I gobbled it up and went out for another. Back to my parents’s room to watch more t.v. I ate my second scone and washed it down with some Pepsi. A third one might have been a bit gluttonous but even my 10 year old self reasoned that any New Year’s resolution wouldn’t officially start for another four hours or so and today was all about indulgence. So, I had a third. Now, you must understand that each time I headed to the kitchen I had to pass the bridge game in the dining room. Thankfully they were so engrossed that a simple “hello” or nothing at all sufficed. I think I made no less than six trips to the kitchen for Mrs. Lempher’s scones. SIX. Yes, my little ten year old body managed to put away six scones! But not for long.

 As I sat there, watching some show – probably that Christmas show with Abby the little girl and her poor mom played by Mary Steinberger and the angel named Gideon, which is a show I STILL love to watch every Christmas but can never remember it’s name but always remember the line where Abby’s brother threatens her by saying he’ll punch her “Pow. To the moon, Abby. To the moon” – my stomach began to rumble. And rumble. And uh oh….right around the part where Abby and her brother get kidnapped by the bank robber, I got up and ran to the washroom. All six scones came back up as did that sweet nutty icing taste that made them so tempting in the first place Ug. Thankfully, the washroom was not on the way to the dining room so I managed to be inconspicuous. I flushed the toilet, brushed my teeth and quietly headed back to lie down and keep watching t.v.

 I clutched my stomach as we rang 1990 (…in Ontario! My parents never let us stay up until midnight but rather convinced us that it was just as great to celebrate with Torontians and then head to bed at around 9 o’clock).  I think that neither the Lemphers nor my parents, know this story and are reading it for the first time, as you are. I know one thing for sure, though. I’ve never asked Mrs. Lemphers for that recipe. I don’t think I ever will. While I may never thank you for the great baking of 1989, I will send a big thank you for your support to CUSO-VSO. And remember, if you would like a blog post dedicated to you just donate to CUSO-VSO and let me know!

The A-Team

I almost forgot! Do you remember the A-Team? Ang, Aimey, Anna? Well, when Ang was in Bali this summer she scratched the A-Team into the sand and took a picture. I have it up on my wall in Kibungo. I I tried to do the same....but I'm rusty with my camera. It's over-exposed (even though I tried to adjust the compensation) and I think my polarizer is not polarizing - and I'm sure it's positioned correctly. And what's with the shadows at the corners??? (If anyone has suggestions, I'd love to hear from you....) Frustrating....

Either way, here's my attempt and a little "I Miss You" to the A-Team.

A Weekend back in Kibungo

I really love this little town. I’ve already told you about the warm welcome I received when I arrived on Thursday. But the last few days has be quintessential Kibungo.

 

Friday I was still recovering but did go into the office to meet with Frodauld to discuss the plan for the next month. The government has decided to extend school holidays for a month and while the kids still have a break, it means the teachers are to spend this time in English class. My job in the next few weeks, therefore will be to travel to schools to inspect and supervise the training process, evaluate the trainers, provide advice and report back. While I was meeting with Frodauld I was reminded again of how lucky I am to work in a district like Ngoma because (from what I’ve heard and how I feel) it’s the district in the country that has it the most “together.” Back to home where I began to feel quiet ill. I monitored my temperature closely (which was rising….) and watched no less than 4 episodes each of Lost and How I Met Your Mother before falling asleep by 9pm.

 

Saturday my temperature was back to normal and it was a good thing. Christine was coming to town to shop and go to the back so we “did Kibungo.” This included a relatively short wait at the bank (which was out of 5000 franc notes and had to give us our salary in 2000 notes….which made a huge pile). To the market where it was such a pleasure to not have to bargain over prices like in Tanzania and a few shops to buy what we needed. After we dropped off our finds we went to a friend of Christine’s. Chantal is the executive secretary of Nyamugali sector in the south. We had a large lunch with mangos for dessert and were introduced to her husband and children. After Christine hopped on the 5:30 bus (and a guy with a guitar tried to impress us pretending to be Tom Close – Rwanda’s mega recording star) I headed home to call my mom for her birthday. Then waited for Suzanne to meet me here and we walked to Moderne to meet Jason and Elie for beer. I really like Tanzanian beer but the bottles are one size and this is wrong. In Rwanda you can get a petite Primus / Mutzig which is maybe 500 mL or a large with is maybe 900mL. The choice is great! Plus Moderne officially has the best goat brochettes and potatoes. With a little pili pili oil to cause your mouth to catch fire….they are the tastiest around!

 

Today is Sunday and I woke to the sound of the neighbourhood children making noise….made some coffee and read my book for a few hours. I’m reading “Icy Sparks” by Gwyn Hyman Rubio (yes, that’s her real name). The book is great! (Although I said that about Mirian Keyes latest bomb before I finished it too). After lunch I tried to get onto the internet at the district but could not find a network. So I wandered to get air time and ran into Eric from Stella who is becoming increasingly cheeky (he asked me for money the other day!), I ran into Suzanne, and I ran into Patrick who was driving his wife and baby home from church on his moto. I was home not ten minutes when there was a banging at my gate. Usually I ignore it – worried it might be cheeky Eric. But it was Julie! She was coming to get her key so she could start working again tomorrow.

 

I have forgotten how exhausting it can be just to leave your house. You must greet everyone with handshakes, hugs, kisses or whatever. The children follow you and the adults stare at you. I was home no more than 24 hours and I’d been “muzungued” four or five times. But, that’s like in Kibungo and I really like it!

Zanzibar Adventures

Okay my little hiatus is over, folks. I’m back! Three weeks in Tanzania was a great experience and, while my return to Kibungo has meant four days of dodgy stomach, it can only mean one thing…..my body is ridding itself of all the varied and wonderful food I had a chance to eat in preparation for another eight months of Rwandan-style cuisine (ie. Carbs, carbs, carbs, a few beans, carbs, some meat and more carbs).  Now, three weeks of no writing means my creative energy is just waiting to spill over onto this page. So, if you’re more of a visual learning you may wish to skip the next four pages and wait for the photos which will be following shortly.

 

We left Kigali at 6am on the Taqwa bus line (which I think means “spider” in Kiswahili and while I hate spiders it was a much better name than the unfortunately translated “Southern Cock” bus line I saw rolling along the Tanzanian country side). Taqwa’s reputation is about as dodgy as my stomach and since my arrival back in Tanzania I’ve heard since that they’ve had a fatal crash in both December and January (and we’re only 10 days in). Still, we lucked out because our drivers were safe (for African standards) and we managed to safely avoid hitting cows, dogs and people the entire way. I only witnessed one cash transaction between driver and police on the way back and what it was for, I don’t want to know.

 

Dar es Salaam proved to be the hottest place I’ve visited in my entire life. Luckily with had “air-con” and so sleeping was comfortable but we started to sweat the moment we left the room and didn’t stop until we returned. The city is busy and while the traffic doesn’t quite match that of La Paz, it certainly is a far cry from Kigali and an even farther cry from little ole Kibungo. The danger is not the number of the vehicles on the road, however, it’s the fact that they drive on the left and I continually looked the wrong way when crossing the street. Christine and I took to following Karen across who is from Ireland and used to driving the wrong way….. Immediately when we crossed the border at Rusumo (two hours from my house) I engaged in one of the best activities of the whole trip – eating in public!!! Unlike Rwanda, you can eat on the street when you’re hungry. This continued in Dar and on the island. So great. The food in Dar was amazing. We were only there for two days but we ate Indian food – the best of which we found at a Badminton Institute of Dar. Honestly…it’s not just its name but it’s an actual place. Like a golf club or a curling club, the Badminton Institute serves great dishes and the muzungus are few and far between. One night we headed over to the Kilimanjero Kapinski Level 8 bar to watch the sun set over the harbour. We paid too much for drinks but got free appetizers. We then remember that we were volunteers with a limited budget and headed elsewhere for dinner.  

 

On December 23^rd we hopped on the Flying Horse slow ferry to cross the sea to Zanzibar. All recommendations suggested taking the slow ferry but the fast ferry (shorter by an hour) has a reputation of causing even the best sea traveller to loose their lunch over the side. Once on board we settled in and met two other VSO volunteers from the UK who work in Tanzania. Karen knew them already so we made plans to meet up later in Stone Town, the capital of Zanzibar. The swells of the water started to make me feel my lunch and so I took a Gravol and laid back for a rest. I woke a few hours later (to a cockroach paying me a little visit) and the island slowly coming into view. We got off the boat and made it through the crowds to our hotel. The island has not had power for a month ever since the cable to the main land power source blew up but most hotels were running on generators and the budget ones that we were staying at would have power from sundown until midnight. It made for hot nights when the fans shut off. Hot like I’ve never felt! I’m sure the temperature reached 40 or so during the day! Nothing like a heat rash to cover up the bed bug bites from Kibungo.

 

Stone Town is a great little place full of alleys and corners and turns that you could easily get lost. It’s predominately Muslim and while we wanted to walk around in tank tops and shorts, we couldn’t so we continued to sweat – all in an attempt to respect local culture. For dinner we enjoyed Fordani Gardens which combined two things I’d been missing – great food and eating it outside!!! We met the other VSO volunteers and a Zanzibar VSO for drinks at a local Rasta bar – because in addition to Muslims there is a strong Rasta culture alive and well- and then to another local haunt with banana trees growing next to the bar.  The next morning we caught a Dalla-Dalla to the northern beach town of Nungwi. This local transport (which is essentially a flat bed truck with seats in the back and roof over top) cost us about $1.50 compared to the $10 private taxis that were available. AND they were much more fun. We met a bunch of locals who gave us free Kiswahili lessons on our way.

 

We arrived to Nungwi guesthouse and was greeted by Ayisha, the girl that helps the owner – Bakhtim – as well as three British girls on a gap year who were working in Arusha. They convinced Bakhtim to go into Stone Town and shell out for Christmas decorations and even a tree, as well as a bunch of food for Christmas dinner. He was so welcoming even if he was permanently stoned. We got our bearings and without even unpacking, put on our swimsuits and bee lined through the ritzy British owned resort hotels filled with Italians, the to crystal clear blue waters of the Indian Ocean. Ahhhh….this is good! Christmas Eve was spent eating a great dinner on the white sand of the ocean. We went to bed that night without heading to Mass, leaving cookies for Santa or reading “The Night Before Christmas”. As sad as this sounds, it was awfully hard to remember that it was Christmas Eve. Without my friends and family and snow on the ground, my parents gigantic nativity scene and “Joy to the World” playing as the priest leaves the church at Mass, it just isn’t really Christmas……

 

The next morning we woke, peered out at the street blow to a ground covered in white, fluffy snow! I threw open the shutters and asked to a boy walking along what day it was. “It’s Christmas Day!” he shouted and I danced around shouting “I haven’t missed it! I haven’t missed it!” So I threw the boy a few pence to go a fetch the biggest turkey he could find……

 

Okay, no. Wait. None of that happened. No snow. No throwing open the shutters. It was raining. Heavily. Pouring. All morning. Santa had delayed his arrival until later on in the night. We lazed around until the rain stopped and when the sky cleared we headed to the beach. The day was spent doing a lot of nothing which I’m sure it was for most of you back home, albeit with a few differences. Christine had a refresher dive because we’d planned to forego Boxing Day shopping at the nearest malls (ahem, there are none) and go out on the water. After which we met the dive instructors for a beer and an annoying Brit who felt he was hilarious by insulting all of Quebeckers to Christine. Hilarious. Back to the hotel to shower and change and exchange Christmas gifts around the Christmas tree my mom sent me from Canada and which I packed ot the coast. I had my Ipod and Christine had speakers so we put on “Christmas in Killareny” for Karen from Ireland and “Il est ne” for Christine. Dinner was put on by Bakhtim and his lesser stoned friend, who’s name escapes me and it was a feast! Red snapper, chicken, vegetables. Chips, Zanzibar donuts and a miread of other tasty treats. A day of swimming and lying around reading tired us out and we headed to bed early for a big day following.

 

Boxing Day usually meant for me getting up early and arriving at Sport Chek (ie. The store from hell) to sell jackets from two seasons ago for ridiculously cheap prices but that would still make John Forzani able to make his mortgage payments for his ridiculously large house. We’d work for 12 hours, never get overtime and only short breaks but the commissions were good and I could usually make it last until the end of January. But today….no Sport Chek! No crazy malls. No cranky customers complaining that this or that should be cheaper because they saw it in the flyer only to be told that there was actually one left in the entire city and it was at another store across town and surely sold by now…..No, none of that.

 

We were going diving. Okay, the girls were going to diving and I was going snorkeling for the first time. The water was clear, the sun was hot and my sunscreen was SPF 50. No lie. They got in and I eventually worked my way into the water. I was nervous and scared but managed to see a few schools of fish, a snake and a jelly fish in my face that caused me to panic and come up for air. I snorkeled with a crazy Brazillian lady who was adamant that she didn’t need fins but she just flailed away holding on the boat and freaking out whenever any of the guides touched her. We saw dolphins (and dove into follow them, with no luck) and an island called Mtembe that has nice diving near by but if plan on stepping on the island it will cost you about $1000. It’s where the rich and famous stay. I pretended that the boat at the dock belonged to Brad and Angelina where they would go after slumming it trying to save the continent of Africa and where they could spend thousands a night for some luxury. They day went on and the heat started to get to me. The experience was good but I woke up the next day with heat stroke and spent most of the day in bed. Awesome.

 

The next few days one or two of us happened to be always sick and so we really didn’t do a whole lot. Christine and I managed to sneak in some kayaking and we eventually had to move to the “Romantic Bungalows” which included a jerk of an “owner” who asked for a $100 deposit, which we refused. I’m sure the place has been closed for months but Eddie (no really, that’s his name) just opened to cash in on the high season. He was rude, the place smelled of mildew including the bed and pillows, they wouldn’t change the sheets, when we inquired why the generators wasn’t working and when it would he only made excuses, there was no power, the breakfast was crawling with ants, we had to finally change our own sheets, the power was never fixed and the last straw was when the water went out for good. When we found what looked like mouse crap on the bed and finally got Eddie around to look at this he laughed at us and told us that only white people would think it was mouse crap but it’s cotton and that we didn’t know anything. At which point my voice raised and explained to him in less than a friendly way what I actually thought about his Romantic Bungalows. About the only thing romantic was the elderly Russian couple next door who would return from the beach each afternoon for a mid day romp and would exit to share a cigarette on our shared veranda. Eew. Although,when they heard me getting sick they were kind enough to give me some medicine as he was a doctor, and in broken English give me instructions. Instead, I had a local doctor come visit give me a malaria test (negative) and tell me it was just bad dehydration. My nurse maids, Chrsitine and Karen, took great care of me and the next morning I felt good enough to find us another place to stay for New Year’s Eve and Christine and I left the Romantic Bungalows refusing to pay for the second night to which Eddie replied “You won’t get away with this at another hotel.” To which I replied “Another hotel wouldn’t smell like mildew and lie to us about having power and water.”

 

New Year’s Eve was great! We got a bungalow near Mang’s bar (the hangout in Nungwi) and feasted on a great meal, met a Canadian, some New Zealanders and a muzungu raised in Kenya.  We ate on the beach under a full moon with a bonfire in the distance and a fire dancer at about midnight. I was treated to texts from my friends in Kibungo and even a phone call from Patrick, my moto driver. Christine and Karen headed to another bar at about 2am but I had hit my limit and went to bed.

 

The next morning we headed back to Stone Town on another dalla-dalla for a few days. We managed to sneak in a trip to see Red Colobus monkies in the Jozani forest and Christine and I took a dalla-dalla and met man on the road who gave us a tour of a spice farm near Stone Town. Christine was an expert at guessing from the smell only. We saw ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, lemon grass, vanilla (who know something so wonderful was a parasite?), jack fruit, start fruit, coconuts and the darling of Zanzibar, cloves. Back to Dar for a few days and one more meal at the Badminton Institute and then another 30 hour journey home on Taqwa which continued its tradition of bad Swahili t.v. shows or loud, bass thumping African music from 7am until 11pm and again at 6am. Crossing the border at Rusumo felt like coming home and when the bus pulled up in front of my house at noon I was welcomed with open arms – literally – by the gang at the motor cycle co-op. I’ve since been enjoying my home, my town and my friends in Kibungo. It was a great trip and the first time I got to see clear blue water. See, I’ve never been to Cuba or the Dominican or Mexico…..no folks, Zanzibar was my first taste of clear, warm sea water. And while I don’t think hot, tropical islands are for me (sea sickness, heat rash, sun stroke and dehydration…..) I didn’t mind floating, in the warm water and watching the sun set in the horizon for the last time in 2009. No, there are worse ways to spend the holidays, that’s for sure.

Zanzibar pictures

Starting out. We even look tired here thanks to the 4am wake up call to make the bus for 6am. Our arrival picture, however, looks worse. So does the picture of our swollen feet. Neither are included here. Sorry!

Simultaneously enjoying two simple pleasure that aren't available in Rwanda - food and plastic bags! In this case, food IN a plastic bag.

The bus stopped often but for not very long. If you were still in line for the pit latrines when the bus honked you had to run and jump on just to catch it.

Our favourite haunt in Dar - the Badminton Institute which had fabulous Indian food.

From the top of Kilimanjaro Kapinski (sp?) Hotel in Dar. The Level 8 bar and good drinks and a great view of the harbour as the sun et. 

The safety boat on the slow ferry Flying Horse to the island. We chose to take the fast ferry back and, even though they did had out barf bags, we managed (with the help of Gravol) to keep our stomach's full.

Of course, we took Gravol on the slow ferry too and this was the result. 

Karibu Zanzibar (Welcome to Zanzibar). 

Putting my feet in the Indian Ocean for the first time.

Out for drinks with our VSO Tanzania counterparts.

Christmas Day on the beach. (Yes this was originally a full body shot but let's be honest, who wants to see that?)

Watching the sun set on Christmas Day and enjoying Kilimanjaro beer.

The tree I brought was Snoopy size.

Bakhtim cooking our Red Snapper on the fire. As stoned as he usually was, he can sure put on a good Christmas dinner.

Part of the gang at our guest house for dinner. There were seven us in total but Bakhtim and his friend. (Bakthim is there next to me). It was such a lovel meal with a mini Christmas tree and a large one near the table. There were also lights and tinsel. So great!