#1

After a 3.00 am alarm call things could only really get better – and they did! Remarkably easy check-in, finally found a Costa round an unexpected dead end corner at North Terminal Gatwick – quite a task amid the dreary looking alternatives - and Martyn had an extra legroom seat on the short hop to Brussels. Met – in state – and whisked into a ‘vehicle’ by a Brussels airport assistant, along with four others similarly en route to Kigali, driven swiftly to the appropriate gate and taken personally to the boarding desk: such service. (Apparently with such a short transfer time this is actually the norm – not really special at all.) Discovered that despite information to the contrary, we also had extra legroom seats for the long haul- extremely fortunate as Martyn had been suffering from a bad back for a couple of days – relieved slightly, courtesy of a hefty valium prescription by the doctor the day before.

A couple of G&T’s down the line and the Kigali landing announcement came through. With nerves and excitement jostling for prime position, there we were, in Africa proper! Quick prayer as we awaited our luggage, hoping desperately that it had had the same superstar treatment as we had at Brussels airport and had made the second plane in time: it had. David, big chief of Rwanda Aid, was there to meet and greet us, whisk us off to a (non-luxury it has to be admitted, in keeping with our charitable status – but very pleasant nonetheless – gorgeous garden) hotel and from there to cold beers and supper. A perfect start. All bodes well.

An early start for a completely stunning six hour drive down to the small town of Kamembe where Rwanda Aid is based - in the far south-west of this land-locked country, within a few km of the DRC (Congo) and Burundi borders. They call it ‘Land of a Thousand Hills and a Million Smiles’ but I’m sure we counted many oodles more than that, on both fronts. Quite breathtaking really, with some of the views beyond spectacular. An overwhelming atmosphere of good cheer and laughter followed us constantly as crowds of beaming children waved wildly along the way. We gave a lift to the sister-in-law of the Rwanda Aid manager all the way from Kigali to Kamembe; she should be awarded much more than a gold star for the valiant effort she made trying to teach me the rudiments of Kinyarwandan – often through French! I now have a fairly diverse collection of Kinyarwandan nouns, but no hope of pronouncing them, and even less of stringing them into any sort of sentence.

We stopped off towards the end of the journey to take a look at the progress of the village for disabled children currently a significant project being built by the charity. A workforce of a hundred or so, resulting in pretty much breakneck speed. An inspirational set-up. We actually met one of the prospective residents, a young boy paralysed throughout much of his body, completely twisted and standing only a couple of feet high, but with a smile to light the world. Humbling.

We finally reached Kamembe and Munezero House, our home for the next few weeks and were welcomed by a legion. There was Francoise, the cook, Prince, the manager, Cyriac, the day guard, two friendly jovial dogs and Aaron and Henry, two students also helping the charity. Quite a house full, with Faustin soon appearing to replace Cyriac, as the night guard. A cup of earl grey tea made a most civilised start, followed fairly shortly with a glass of wine before dinner. All hopes of a miracle weight loss in deepest darkest Africa are rapidly fading.

Day 2 dawned bright but daunting: David had already felled me with the weight of his suggestions for my role here when he suggested I take on the task of visiting all the schools they are involved with in the area, assessing each one’s current status and needs through consultation with the heads, summarising all findings in a report for the trustees, and making recommendations on where the greatest need and priorities lie! Oh-my-God! The schools range from fairly local to those over four hours drive, each way, away in villages so remote they are down mud baths scarcely recognisable as roads with potholes to drown in. However, I’m trying to be a tiny bit grown up and look on it as character building – which it undoubtedly will be if I ever get past the starting blocks.

The day was filled, for me, with meeting numerous gentle Rwandans of some note who came to the house, practising my greetings and joining in the odd meeting, including one with the ex-mayor, and another with ‘Brother Focus’! In fact I shall also have to go and interview the current mayor sometime for the local government view and plans for education.


Martyn’s day was somewhat different as he scrambled from one role to another, checking building progress of the disabled village at Ntendezi and sweet-talking the builder on the one hand, to becoming Big Chief Road Advisor on the road to the farm at Murangi and discussing the options for repair through a translator. 3kms of track need to be upgraded, with numerous bridges (aka DIY culverts), to a very tight budget – just £2,000. He loved it! The rain was a tad on the torrential side however, which rather slowed his progress – He’d wanted to “get his hands dirty” but didn’t expect the mud to be quite so deep!