A week in photos

There's been so much going on lately that I find myself not even thinking about this blog. I suppose I should pay more attention to it. (Word on the street is that it's been highlighted by VSO in the UK....Uh oh...the pressure....maybe just another word of warning...this blog is highlight SUBJECTIVE and not the full story of my experience here. It's all the ups and a few of the downs but censored quite a bit. But I digress). Where was I? Oh...busy week and all that.

Just a quick "Conversations with Patrick" entry....

Mutoni and Patrick drove Jeremy and I, respectively, out to the TTC on Thursday to check it out before our workshops this week. We drove the 40 minutes over what used to be mud (remember me walking half the way because the bike was so unstable) but what has since turned to ruts and dust. We arrived and Mutoni pulls out a towel and starts hitting Jeremy. As he does so, dust rises like PigPen in Peanuts. He continues to do this until Jeremy is relatively clean. Patrick gives me the once over, and determines that I'm fine. Probably because we were in the lead and Mutoni and Jeremy, well....ate my dust.

After the visit they picked us up and Mutoni had his radio to listen to....well...I don't know. But I asked him if it was football. Patrick pipes up and says "Anna, do you love football?" (the word for love and like are the same here)

"Yes, Patrick. I like it. You?"

"Me? No. I don't like football. I love God and money."

"God and money?"

"Yes. Me? Anna! Me? I like 1) God. 2) Money 3) My wife and child and 4) passengers"

Here are some photos from the week that was:

Global Schools Partnership workshop in Kibungo. Dorothy came up to help us out.

We registered schools on www.globalgateway.org

Suzanne already has a partner school in the UK so she came to help us.

Then we had lunch!!

From a few weeks ago in Gisenyi. This restaurant proves that not all brochettes are created equal. They were amazing.

Lake Kivu from the Serena

Sun set over the DRC and Lake Kivu

Traditional Intore Dancers

At Rukira school I had a workshop. John and Angelique surprised me with a pan of material as a thank you and good bye gift.

In the classes...talking about kidneys.

Seriously? Is this heading "Names never to call your girlfriend"?

Market in Kibungo

Market in Kibungo

Consolee!!! This is the first picture I have of her. I met her while I was learning Kinyarwanda and was trying to find raw eggs. I went in her store and in Kinyarwanda said "Do you have egg no to cook." But she got it and I've been buying my eggs from her ever since. I still try to by "airtime" for my phone and whenever I do she reaches for the sanitary supplies call "Everytime" She has mad me feel like this is my home.

Making grill cheese. In Kibungo. C-H-E-E-S-E in Kibungo. (Did I mention that I'm lactose intolerant but don't care when it's something new.....

This weekend we baby sat for Dmitri and Arian so they could have a night away. I gave Adriane (3 years) my camera and look what I got! They are Belgian and I met them at a couch surfing party in October. So the kids speak French and were doing quite fine until Christine had to go for a meeting Saturday morning and I had to - gasp! - speak FRENCH myself all morning. I was reading stories in French and, thankfully, they were written for a, well, three year old. I think I understood most of it.

Lots of photos like this...

...and this....

...but sometimes they turned out like this! (I'm holding his little sister, Lucie)

World Cup fever hits Kibungo

World Cup "flat screen" television at St. Joseph's

Breakfast of French toast and caramelized bananas!! Amazing!

PS - Thanks to Amy for some of the pictures. And Adrian....

I left my camera at home. I'll try to paint a picture with words

Comedy of Errors

I met Damien today – the head of the Teacher Training College (TTC) where we will do workshops on Monday. He arranged to come pick up supplies in the TTC truck from my house this evening. He was heading to Keirhe District in the afternoon to tell a family that their son (one of his students) had died in the hospital that day. But still he was Damien. A man who is always smiling and proud to pat his belly and when he sees a muzungu with a beer cut say, “You’re fat! Like me!” When I asked him what time he’s be coming around, he just replied “Oh. Later.”

“But Damien, what if I’m sleeping?” (Fully aware that it would not be unusual for him to get there at 11pm or something ungodly in land where the sun sets at 6:15pm)

“Then wake up!” He smiled.

So at 8pm Damien called. He was at the Fina Bank and would I come meet him because he doesn’t know where my house is. No problem as the bank is only about 200m from my house. But it’s through 200m of pitch black, no light, valley to then north, hill to the south. No problem. It’s not even full moon but I’ve become so accustom to it that I don’t even need the light on my cell phone. Not yet. But there is a bit of a ditch that I know is coming up so I’m navigating my way over the ditch, pulling out my light when I hear a familiar voice.

“Anna. Hi.” It’s Patrick! And he’s got a passenger but of course he stops to say hello. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the Round Point to me the director the TTC.”

“No Anna. Director of TTC is there.” He points in the oppostive direction. The direction from which I just came. “There is his truck.” (I wonder for a minute if everyone in Rwanda knows everyone and then remember that that truck has TTC Zaza printed in clear blue letters. But still it’s pitch black and I sure as hell didn’t see a truck drive by)

“I’ll call him,” I say pulling out my phone-come-flashlight.

Sure enough, when Damien answers he’s driving passed me and I tell him that my moto friend saw him and to wait there I’ll come. Patrick pulls away – toward Damien also – and I head back to meet him. But as I’m coming I see Damien’s tail lights pull away. He’s driving away. My phone comes out again.

“Damien! Where are you going?”

“I see your moto! I’m coming!” Damien, having mistaken Patrick’s passenger for me, is now following him half way to Uganda.

“No!! That’s not me. Come back!!”

So he turns around on the high way and I stand in the direct head light so he can see the muzungu (as if it’s hard) and he’ll know where my house is. But as he’s driving and pulling off toward me I see that he’s headed toward a large drainage hold near my gate. I’m waving “Stop! Stop! Go around! Go around!” But he’s on the phone and plop! Right into the whole goes the front wheel. After he gets of the phone he bellows a “No problem!!!” And even though it looks like he won’t get out…he does. Still smiling. We get into my house and he is bursting with smiles as if he hadn’t driven to the neighbouring district to tell a family that their son had died.

“Go home,” I tell him “It’s been a long day.”

As he walked out of my house he passed Johnny Boy, my guard and in Kinyarwanda told him “Take care of our child.” And he patted me on the arm.

Rwanda’s Child

Today I felt a little hand in mine and thought I would write something about Rwanda’s children. It is, after all, why I’m here.

It’s dry season again. Despite the rain in Gitarama I think they have finished in the East. It’s hot here. So hot. I left work early to come home and work on rice sacks. I turned on to the dirt road that leads from the district to my house. It was dusty and hot and my eyes squinted as I made my way down the hill. I passed Les Hirondelles school and heard, from somewhere far behind me “Umuzungu!” I turned and looked trhough a cloud of dust left by a passing motorcycle and there was a little girl. I’ve seen her before. I didn’t know where but she ran toward me. And ran. And ran. And as she plopped her little hand in mine and hung on. We spoke a little Kinyarwanda to each other but she wasn’t all that interested in having a conversation. Instead we walked, side by side, down the dusty path. Some women were working on our way and we stopped to say “hello.” The women roared with gales of laughter when I said “Nfite inshuti” (I have a friend) and then proceeded to notice my hair, hot with sweat, curly with humidity all over my face. One of the woman reached up to get the wisps of hair in my eyes. (The ones my mom will see and yank off me as if she were pulling off a band-aid only to realize that ‘Oowww. It was attached!) After my hair was acceptable, my little friend and I carried on down the hill. Me taking slower smaller steps to accommodate the little legs and her little feet shuffling along in pink flip flops that are two sizes too big. She’s got my hand gripped firmly in her left hand and in her right she is carrying a grape flavoured hard candy and trying to keep a heave sweater in the crook of her arm. She’s got on a pack. She’s coming from school. We cross the road – the highway to Tanzania where large freighter trucks rumble through at all hours of the day and where it is no place for a three year old. At the moto garage I give a proud “Nfite inshuti!” again and ask Papa Zero where the little girls home is. (Papa Zero is a mechanic there – although he never seems to work and has the softest hands in the southern hemisphere – and how aquired the name “Papa Zero” when I asked him how many children he had and his response was just that. “Me. Papa. Zero.”) He directed me to a house just past my own and I walked her there. She’s not really ready to let go. When we arrived however, some boys came out to play and the three of them continued to walk together after I left her along the hot highway. I turned back to see where she had gone only to see a truck rumble past and one of the boys grab her by her arm to pull her to the shoulder. So, here’s this little girl with too-big-flip-flops walking along a busy side walk. She has a mother but she is probably working. So the community cares for her. Papa Zero, some boys that might be five and me. I guess I’m part of that community now.

This Isn't Your Parents' Gitfest

This weekend Gitarama hosted the second? third? annual Gitfest! The theme was … well “this isn’t your parents' Gitfest” seemed appropriate to me. Either way, we were told by our gracious hosts to come as a fixture of festival life. We travelled to Muhanga (which is the other name for Gitarama) and had the bus driver a pull a big U turn in the middle of town so we could get to hotel. Of course we had friends at the back of the bus who we nearly T-boned because of our driver’s hasty decision. Either way, we made it to the Splendid Hotel just in time to meet up with Ken who was meeting with “the Band” to get us to the venue. After downing a Primus (boy those bus rides make you thirsty!) we headed out to the “Hacienda of Dreams!” We arrived and pulled out our costumes. We were….well…."With The Band." Amy made us groupie backstage passes and gave us groupie names. The night was filled with … power cuts, candles, brochettes, potatoes, music, songs sung proudly during the well known choruses and mumbles through the verses, a few dozen abana (children) shouting from the hill and generally good times. Well, except for the downpour and the lack of motos to take us back to the hotel at night. Why do I wear jeans in rainy season? (Thankfully the hotel provided me with an iron in the morning to steam my jeans dry. Never have I looked so good!)

Sunday we stopped in Kigali so that I could take Amy to the Genocide Memorial. Still graphic and difficult, I found this visit much harder. Now the pictures and the people and the locations that are discussed are closer to home. This is my home. These are my friends. I couldn’t bear to go in the children’s room again. It’s too hard.

In other news, I received some GREAT news over the telephone this week. First - I'm going to be a mother! Okay...okay. Not for real... but I was asked my a friend to be the Godmother to her baby girl who I will affectionately begin to call G. And while at the above mentioned Gitfest I got another call and ...I'm going to be an Aunt again! Okay...okay. Not for real...but one of my oldest friends is going to have a baby this year! So...I guess it's time I start heading for home so I can be there to buy cute little outfits, babysit and...only when required, change a dirty diaper. I mean, it can't be worse than pit latrines in Rwanda, right?

Here are some pictures from Gitfest.

We're with the band.

Costume called Farmer Paul. (Festival organizers encroaching on his land)

The food was gorgeous. I didn't know you get these ingredients here.

Maybe they WERE at my parents' festival

She's with the band.

I'm with the band too.

Karen and Melanie came as PortaPotties. But they smelled better.

Groupies: Trixi, Candi and Roxy

What's a festival without brochettes.

Here's the band

After walking home in the rain.

Just give me love

So…after successfully getting the permit and eating a nice lunch at Bourbon café with my new book, The Weight of Water, I headed to VSO to get some Benjamins and then caught a moto to the airport at exactly 1:19pm (Amy’s flight had arrived – I had hoped – four minutes before). From a distance I see the tail of the gigantic Ethiopian Airlines flight and hope I haven’t missed her. But I arrive (and see a fellow VSO who is heading to Canada for a week) and collect Amy, who has been travelling for no less than 48 hours. She’s a bit dazed but I decide that we might as well attempt the 2 hour journey to Kibungo before she knows what hit her.

To the bus park only to wait 30 minutes in a hot smell bus. She’s is managing quite well considering and I reassure her over and over again that it will only be 2 hours.

I was wrong.

Three hours and two police check points later (one of which we were all required to exit the bus and provide our ID cards), we arrived in Kibungo with new friends who helped us by … finding toilets en route, picking up Amy’s sweater that fell out of the bus and into the mud, explaining to us that “Yes, the police do want you out of the bus” and by getting the driver to stop at the round-about even though he had no intention of doing so. I made a dinner and when it was good and late (8:30 in Kibungo), I tucked Amy into her mosquito net and think how crazy it is that I haven’t seen Amy in over 15 years when we were cruising the halls of St. Joe’s!

Wednesday was a “Show Amy Kibungo” and, yes, that can take a whole day. Thursday we went to the library where she will help. We stopped by Patrick’s house to visit his family and say “hello.” Little Pamela brought out all of her new clothes and showed them off for us. Delphine and Patrick invited us for dinner to the following Tuesday. Friday we hopped on a bus and got off 6 hours (or so) later in Gisenyi.

Gisenyi is the northern city on Lake Kivu and border the Democratic Republic of Congo town called Goma. We checked into the Presbyterian Guest house for reasonable rates and clean beds. The walls are another story as I believe we left at least one spider carcass on it. We used our trusty Bradt guide to find out (from the good folks at the Serena and where we couldn’t afford to eat) that most of the hotels listed in the guide are shut down but that La Corniche would be a nice place for a brochette. Which is it was. Now, I am beginning to think of myself as a bit of a brochette aficionado and La Corniche had some of the best. Amy and I enjoyed the bit of goat with a bit of Primus and a bit of a wander down memory lane and who’s doing what and where and with whom!

The Saturday was umaganda so we were stuck and said guest house with said spiders and said stain on wall but somehow we passed the hours easily catching up as friends from years ago tend to do – over coffee, sunshine, dry bread, powered milk and omelette! We headed over the Serena where yesterday we knew we couldn’t afford to eat but today we knew we could afford to swim! We lounged poolside and swam in the blue water of the pool that looked out toward the lake and the mountains of the DRC. At dinner time we met Amy’s friend at the border of the DRC (she lives in Goma) and sped alone the road, through windy mountain villages to Paradise Malahide for sundowners and dinner. (Always wanted to say I was going for sundowners!) We did watch the sun set over the lake and later took in some traditional intore dancers before seeing Naomi off at the border at about 10pm. It was dark. She was going in to the Congo. She seemed to be very calm about it and maybe that was the armoured vehicle that would pick her up on the other side but Amy and I were a bit unnerved. At least we got a “home safe” text from her a half hour later.

Sunday was a long, long day back to Kibungo and Monday an uneventful day in Kibungo.

Today was busy. I think I tired Amy out and as she is laying exhausted on my couch I can only remember that I’ve been at it for 9 months. How on earth did I manage? I had a meeting this morning with F and F (Fabien and Francis…the big bosses) to settle some details about a workshop we’re doing. Then to Nyamugali to do some work at the library. Lunch was quick and at Moderne. Amy, Emmanual and I headed off to Bare to look at their library. It was Amy’s first “off road” experience and Patrick promised we’d go “gache gache” which we did until he sped off in front for a moment, causing Amy’s driver to try to catch up, giving Amy a small heart attached and she looked over and ask me to slow down. I just had to remember back to my first ride to Rukira when I arrived when I, as Jeremy puts it, “lost the will to live.” So, okay, we slowed down. I missed my race through the country but puttering along lets me look at the views a little longer.

Tonight we were invited to Patrick and Delphine’s for dinner. He drove us there with his friend, Jafette. We arrived and Pamela was wearing her new clothes that she showed us last week. Delphine had put on her nicest clothes and washed after a day of school and cooking. We were greeted with great smiles and “Karibu!” “Welcome!”. Patrick’s baby sister (she’s 2!) was playing quietly, Delphine was putting out plates and Patrick raced off to buy Fanta and we settled into dinner of rice, sweet potatoes, fries, meet and omelette. They played music and I gave Pamela a ball which she played with until her mom finally ordered her to eat some food! Patrick said in the English that has been improving all year “Anna. This is your home. You are my family.” Patrick’s mom, Leonie, who is a teacher at Nyamugali joined us after work. We took photos, played ball and danced with the little babies. Patrick and I tormented a giggling Pamela in a game of keep away and at one point I was about to throw the ball to Patrick when Pamela squared up, put her little hands on her knees, crouched slightly and sneered – with a giggle – “Muzuuuunguuuu!” She know just what to say!

After hugs and thank yous and murakoze cyanes, Patrick and Jafette got us on our way home. When we arrived I asked Patrick how much he waned for the drive. He looked at me and shook his head.

“No problem Anna. Just give me love. No problem. Have a good night!” And he was off.

Just like that. A family with nothing. No electricity. No doors on their house. Delphine is an orphan. A house with a bedroom and a sitting room. A sitting room with just a coffee table and four chairs. And yet, they gave it to us. Generous beyond anything I have every experienced. And so, when Patrick tells me to come back before I go to Canada to say good bye, I know I will. He has shown me the best side of Rwanda. He has made me feel like I’m part of something wonderful here. I guess that’s what he means by love.

Gorilla permit: check

Just like the rain in dry season, my creative juices have all dried up. Actually, what’s dried up is my countless hours on my own with time to think and write in this little blog. It’s been a week only but a long week. Let’s review, shall we.

Tuesday I woke early because it was a big day. Off to Kigali to get gorilla permits for July, to VSO to get reimbursed and then off ot the airport to meet a friend, Amy, who will join me for three weeks. I arrive in Kigali early (read: bus ride frightfully fast) and head to the ORTPN.

Me: “I’d like two permits for July 12^th, please”

Them: “Sorry. It’s sold out.”

Me: “Okay. How about the 13^th?”

Them: “Sorry, it’s also sold out.”

Me: “Okay…” (looking at calender to see when I’ll be back in the country) “How about August 12^th?”

Them: “Sorry. July and August are all sold out.”

Me: “I think I will cry.”

__

But I didn’t cry. No, I’m a VSO volunteer and in the face of challenges such as these we perservere. As it so so happened, there WAS a spot in July that had become available because of a cancellation so I asked for this one and if they took MasterCard.

Them: “No.”

Me: “Okay. No problem.”

--

And it wasn’t a problem. Not yet. Because I can go across the street to get a cash advance at Access bank which (besides tending to give out counterfit money) tends to be relatively reliable. So I race over the bank and ask for a cash advance.

Them: “Sorry, your card has been declined.”

Me: “What? No!”

Them: “Maybe there’s a limit.”

Me: “There’s not.” (well, really, there is but I don’t reach it ever.)

--

So ask it turns out there may be a cash advance limit but we just tried to take out two separate advances and voila! I had cash in my hand (and the serial numbers to go along with them) and I headed back over to ORTPN.

Me: “Here!”

Them: “Do you have your residents’ card?”

Me: “Yes! Here it is.”

Them: “Great, we just need to photocopy…….”

END SCENE.

Okay not really end scene but this in when the power goes out and I stare at the woman behind the counter who is blankly staring at me. There is nothing she cand do. So we wait. And wait. And wait.

But the power goes on and, permits in hand, walk out of the ORPTN smiling! I will be trekking to see the mountain gorillas in Rwanda in July! (Not trekking to kill the mountain gorillas as the word “permit” might suggest. Hunting strictly prohibited.)

A week in photos

Anna, Pamela, Patrick, Delphine and Muhirwa

And off to Gisenyi....

Sunset over the mountains of the DRC

Sundowners: Primus and white wine

Fishermen on Lake Kivu

Intore Dancers

Next to flying maggots, this is the grossest thing I've seen in Rwanda. It was first on the ground in pain. Must have been hurt. Not that I cared. And then he managed to cling to the tree to climb his way back up.

And back in Kibungo....

Shelves waiting to be filled

Thankfully Amy is an architect back in Calgary!

We took a break from the hard work to watch the P1 students involved in a relay game.

Primary schedule

Organization at Nyamugali

Sometimes I do get out from behind the camera, leave my camera on the table and find that the head teacher has taken it!

And then at Patrick's house....

Delphine really so shy she wouldn't take credit for the great meal.

Pamela sat drinking a Fanta and her mother told her to smile!

Patrick and Pamela

In the banana trees

Patrick, Delphine (his wife), Leonie (his mother), Jafette (his friend)

Pamela (his daughter) and Murhiwa (his sister)