P.S.

Another Challenge – The South Down Way

Now having returned from the most enlightening and rewarding month in Rwanda, I really want to continue supporting this amazing charity – Rwanda Aid.

So I’m cycling the South Downs Way, from Winchester to Eastbourne, over the early May Bank holiday weekend – taking just 3 days to cover the 100 miles, weather and legs permitting.

Please help me make this a double success by sponsoring me - please click onto my Just Giving page http://www.justgiving.com/martynharris and pledge a few quid, as a few British Pounds can go a long way in East Africa (some examples are provided).

Thanks a million, or hopefully a thousand!!
Martyn

#8

Day 20 A mass exodus to Ntendezi and the children’s village left the coast clear for me to crack on with – and hopefully complete – my Education report. For three and a half hours I sat solidly typing, stopping only for a cup of coffee and two of my chocolate eggs. Ecstasy. I’m not sure if the unadulterated pleasure of that was what spurred me on to complete my report, but by lunchtime I was done! Hooray indeed.

Lots of mini successes at Ntendezi meant a merry band all round. They took a prototype floor cushion with them that Liz had knocked up to check on size and suitability. It looked fab. In fact, Fidele, one of the disabled children who will live in the village, was there for a test drive. He was thrilled with it.

It’s the final day of Memorial Week and a full day public holiday. We’d forgotten this vital snippet and had absolutely no food for supper. We were forced to go out and re-sample the famous pork restaurant - but not before yet another altercation with the Mothers’ Union chief. This time she came here, but her curtain “plans” were just as dire and with exasperation paramount we agreed to ‘conclude’ tomorrow. The cold beer at the pork restaurant was just exactly what we needed.

Day 21 This morning was dominated by drawing plans of every possible window type, marking every hem length, tie-back distance and loop width. Every millimetre of required cloth was calculated by Martyn and mock up models of the curtain loop attachment system was made by me. A spread sheet showed a thousand different measurements and calculations and the whole explanatory mass was loaded into an envelope to deliver to the wretched Mothers’ Union. If that doesn’t make the whole damn thing clear…..

The others had gone on a trip to visit ‘the rabbit parish’. Some time ago when other parishes had chosen to spend a little money on pigs or cows, the pastor of Kansu parish had opted for rabbits as he could get more for the money – and they breed fast! The results have been extraordinary and various families have literally become self sufficient on the strength of the rabbits. They are sold for breeding and eating and because of their mega-multiplying power pay for themselves remarkably quickly.

On their return from Kansu, Liz and I went down into town on another important shopping mission. We needed to buy fourteen lengths of the madly bright materials for the rest of the forty six cushions we’d got planned, plus source some lining fabric for the inners. What a successful time we had! We were certainly Mrs. Populars in the fabric section of the market and had women literally forcing designs on and at us in a bid for us to select theirs over someone else’s. At one point I began to wonder if there might be a punch up. We didn’t peak on success in the bargaining department but did, finally, get a small reduction after pointing out, at least a hundred times, that we were buying vast quantities. As all this was conducted in our embarrassingly poor French, I suppose we should be glad we hadn’t somehow upped the price. After a remarkably short search we found some suitable lining material and the guy there was so quick to agree to our reduction that we guessed we must have underestimated the opportunity. Still, never mind, we were happy with our price.

Martyn, David and Emma had a very important meeting whilst we were buying up the market: they had to visit the Bishop, who is No. 1 most important in the wielding of power regarding so many things that the charity wants, and needs, to do. Unfortunately he doesn’t always see things in the same way as we do and obstruction isn’t too uncommon. They returned to Munezero House and the air had a hint of blue about it. A number of glasses of wine were fairly swiftly poured…..

The evening was tinged with sadness as it was ‘the Last Supper’ altogether as Henry and Aaron were off to Kigali in the morning to spend a night there before Henry flies on Thursday lunchtime. Mind you, it wasn’t all sad because as Henry was packing, he found a slab of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk that he’d ‘forgotten’ about!!! What a treat for pudding.

Day 22 We knew today was going to be manic - but it was on a scale we’d way, way underestimated!! It was totally crazy. David, Martyn and Emma had a meeting with Rwanda Revenue, then the Mayor for starters. Liz and I had forty six floor cushions covers to cut out, plus sixteen liners. We also had to hand-sew at least one large and one small cushion as patterns (we’re dealing with Mother’s Union again…) and sort all into some kind of foolproof system so they don’t mix the various sections up. Along the way, Alphonsine and her friend arrived with almost nine hundred Christmas cards that had to be checked for quality and counted, a girl arrived with armloads of craft necklaces and bracelets for checking and three people appeared with sad stories requesting some sort of sponsorship. Poor Prince was pulled in at least two thousand different directions as different parties needed translation – both ways - sympathy and understanding, and explanation. He’s such a marvel as he continues to smile and stay totally calm in the face of all possible provocation.

In the afternoon we had a final (!) visit to Mother’s Union, a dash to buy slightly more cushion material, a race to cut the last cushions out, and packing all round. We’d been invited out to supper which seemed like a wish too far, especially when the basket-making lady arrived with a large order as we were just leaving for Obadias and supper, already an hour late. Oh yes, and after having been remarkably lucky for the whole trip with only momentary blips without water, the entire water system went off good and proper without even a drip from any tap. All plans for a final spruce up shower were thwarted, as were the hopes of removing even the surface mud from our feet and lower legs after the soggy market trip.

In the end, supper away from the madhouse was a perfect escape and after a fantastic spread and a lovely time wishing Obadias’s now ten year old daughter, a happy birthday, we returned home for the final countdown.

Early start tomorrow for Kigali, so many ends needed tying.

Day 23 I was awake before the five o’clock alarm checking the water with a vain hope. Nothing. However, when Martyn woke at five he heard a faint drip, drip and went to check: it had come on! How lucky was that? Mind you, I confess to settling for a wash only, even so as there was no hope of anything approaching hot water – but some of the other brave souls went for it, including Martyn.

By six thirty the truck was packed and a tarpaulin covered the luggage in the back. I had realised that we’d lost a padlock for one of the cases and asked Patrick, our driver, whether we’d be able to pick one up in Kigali before the airport. He said, ‘But we can get one here’! He asked me for 500 francs (about 60p) and sent Cyriac, the day guard, off to get me one! Cyriac duly returned with a small padlock in about five minutes flat. Martyn then remembered we needed a little more credit on the phone so off went Cyriac again, returning this time in about thirty seconds with the necessary card strip for the extra credit. Remember it’s six thirty in the morning and not long light!

At seven o’clock the moment came to say farewell to all our, by now really good friends, at the house. Quite an emotional wrench. A great deal of hugging took place as we all thanked and said goodbye to Cyriac and Faustin, the day and night guards, plus the wonderful Prince, manager extraordinaire. At least Patrick was coming with us so the finality wasn’t totally extreme just then.

We bounced along the now familiar pot-holed road to the forest waving to familiar sights, especially Ntendezi, the village for disabled children. Martyn is rather disappointed that he isn’t staying a couple of weeks longer to see the building complete. I, on the other hand, am secretly quite relieved that we are not to be there for the unveiling of the dreaded curtains!

Once in the forest we kept our eyes peeled for the colobus monkeys. Patrick made a wild prediction that we should see ten – and amazingly, we almost did. We saw nine, mostly in the distance along the road, disappearing into the undergrowth as we got close. But one courageous beast, all alone on the roadside, sat still until we were alongside, then made a leap onto the car. If Martyn hadn’t been pretty swift in closing up the window we’d have had an extra passenger. It was so curious and climbed all over the car, giving fabulous photo opportunities. David managed a magnificent full face portrait – must get a copy – as the monkey leered into the back window.

The strangest sensation was as we got to Butare, a town about half way to Kigali, to stop for a snack. Three and a half weeks earlier we’d stopped at the same ‘hotel’ on the way down to Kamembe from the airport. At that time we’d looked around at the dusty roads and simple shop fronts and had agreed that we were really getting out into the sticks, away from any sort of ‘civilisation’. On this return journey we almost stopped in our tracks as we gasped at the posh development of it all! It truly seemed like another – positively luxurious – world from that where we’d spent the bulk of our time in Rwanda. Proof positive that one quickly adjusts to one’s immediate environment!

We reached Kigali in plenty of time and whilst poor David and Emma continued in work mode with a visit to the Minister of Education, Liz, Martyn and I took the opportunity to go and see the Genocide Memorial Museum. Equally as sobering I suspect, but in an entirely different way. I can only say what a truly magnificent memorial to the appalling tragedy of the Genocide. A sense of peace prevailed from the moment of entry and the whole exhibition, both inside and out was so beautifully and sensitively presented. It was informative, descriptive and harrowing, but never gratuitous at all. We were all moved and shaken, yet far better informed as we departed.

Final stop, Kigali airport. Once again we were totally blown away by the contrast with our recent ‘home’ area. The food counter was a veritable feast of variety and excitement and the coffee lounge awash with comfortable, even elegant, leather armchairs. A final sitdown as we caught up with Aaron, there to see us off, and then the final goodbyes.
That was the really hard part. But forever lightened, in true Rwandan style by the echo of David’s words as he checked that Patrick had remembered his shopping list for the following day’s six hour return journey. Of course he had: ….ten bags of foam, two piglets and a 2000 litre water tank!! Only in Rwanda….

What a brilliant place. What a fabulous trip. And what a privilege to have had such an opportunity.

#7

Day 17 David is due back from Kigali today with his sister and niece. A quick whip round the house with a cleaning cloth and some clean sheets seemed in order before Martyn, Henry , Aaron and I left for Nkombo early this morning. It is an island not too far from here, but accessible only by boat. And a small wooden boat that we help to paddle at that. But what a fascinating morning. It was quite badly hit by the earthquake of February 2008 and many buildings were destroyed. Horrifyingly, 288 families still live under plastic sheeting, sometimes families of 8 or 10, because there is no money to rehouse them.

We were able to visit several of these ‘temporary’ shelters, and I can tell you, it was a very sobering experience. Rwanda Aid have housed several families in, for this desperately poor and undeveloped island, state of the art houses. These have actual stoves (rammed earth) in the kitchens with chimneys to extract the smoke, and water tanks filled from guttering – almost unheard of here (strange as there is so much rain). They also have organic – composting – toilets which help, later, with compost for their plots of land. We were lucky enough to meet one of the families who are now rehoused in a Rwanda Aid house, and they were just so delighted with their new home. They have 8 children and had lived under plastic for about a year prior to the rehousing. I had a big hug from the mother of the family, and the father was grinning from ear to ear.

The children were out in their thousands, and we spent some minutes patching up a poor little mite whom we’d seen, moments earlier, disappear down a deep hole. She got such a shock and stood solemnly whilst we washed and Band-Aided her up. Secretly I think she thought it was well worth the agony for the attention she received from the ‘mzungus’.

As we walked back down to the lake to find a boat to paddle us back we were passed by a crowd carrying a man on a stretcher. There is no medical assistance on the island so anyone requiring help has to get over to the mainland. We saw the ambulance arrive on the other side as we walked over to investigate one of the island’s water pumps. We were waiting with the Chief Executive (no less!) of the island for the boat and rather shockingly, when it arrived we were told that the sick man had actually died as he reached the other side of the lake. Certainly not the highlight of our day.

With David’s sister and niece, Liz and Emma, the ‘female touch’ arrived. After nearly three weeks struggling as the only girlie amongst four men I’d decided that trying to introduce such concepts as ‘tidiness’ and even ‘cleanliness’ to a degree, was a totally lost cause. Now I live in hope. We did have a candle on the table with supper – and not because there was a power cut: I think the girls are out in force!

Day 18 Our overall task this morning sounded very promising: shopping. The reality was not so quite so exciting. We had to go to the Mothers’ Union to try – for at least the sixth time – to sort out the curtains for the disabled children’s village. Frustration just doesn’t start to describe it. Aaaaggghhhhhh. I won’t even begin to go there. Suffice to say that the curtains are still not sorted. A foray into the market for cushion cover material was somewhat less stressful and we even managed to buy a couple of lengths. Plus, of course, the madly vibrant African print I bought for myself. Ridiculously, despite having been here for some weeks, I’ve managed to leave it too late to have it made up into the flamboyant African creation I’d envisaged. From the fabric stalls we moved onto the fruit and veg. market, finally stopping off to buy some beef. Fillet,my dears. Not quite the butcher at home, but reassuringly clean and surprisingly fresh.

Aaron had valiantly offered a day’s free labour to Ferdinand, the guy in charge of repairing the road Martyn has been working on. He left at 7 o’clock this morning, shovel and hoe in hand, possibly even whistling a merry tune: I don’t know, I wasn’t up. We’d planned a trip to the farm later this morning, ostensiby to show Liz and Emma the road on the way, but really to go and ‘laugh’ at Aaron. Henry and Martyn were in favour of taking a couple of directors chairs and some beers and a camera and making a morning of it. As it turned out the heavens opened just before we’d planned to leave and we had to postpone our trip. In fact, a very bedraggled, totally filthy Aaron arrived back just as we finished lunch. He’d had a good time – causing utter hilarity amongst the locals – and had definitely earned the hot bath he awarded himself.

We finally left for the farm in the somewhat damp afternoon. The mud was as sticky as it was deep and we made slow progress – amid the bevy of tots and tinies hanging onto our hands. Someone had to slip and most of us had the odd close shave, but Martyn was the one – not once, but twice. The second time he managed quite a skilful dance routine before finally hitting the deck.

The evening had a hilarious, verging on the hysterical, edge as we tried to knock up a sample floor cushion using a sewing machine that none of us could master – or even begin to treadle with any fluency – although David did finally manage two stitches in a row. The cushions remain pinned.

Day 19 A bright and early-ish Easter Sunday start for a grand day out. We’d planned the day visiting two islands in Lake Kivu, but for both ease and enjoyment, considering there were seven of us, David had suggested hiring a motorboat. What a sight we were to the locals. Considering there is pretty nearly zero tourism, the sight of seven ‘mzungus’ being motored around the Lake must have been completely incomprehensible. Rwandans just absolutely wouldn’t take such leisure trips – and certainly couldn’t afford to. There was an awful, almost shameful moment, when we realised that the boat for the day, although only a fiver per each of us, actually cost over twice a teacher’s monthly salary. Isn’t that utterly shocking?

But a brilliant day. We visited, briefly, a small island called Ishwa that even David hadn’t been to before. We had such a delightful welcome from all the local children who raced down to the shore where we arrived and then escorted us all around on our wanderings. David instigated a round of ‘Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes’ with some assorted masses, all of whom followed brilliantly and thought it hilarious fun.

From there to Nkombo for a second visit this trip. This time we were able to meet more of the families rehoused in the Rwanda Aid houses, after the earthquake. Again, we received such incredible welcomes and hugs all round it was very touching. It was incredible, and truly gratifying to see how much several of the families had managed to get back on track and move forward with their lives since being rehoused. We felt so privileged to have the opportunity to see into these lives, and their houses which, although very simple and basic by Western standards, were still homely and on the way to being comfortable. There were the odd quirks such as a goat in one bedroom, and a couple of chooks sitting cosily in a kitchen, but despite these, along with the mud walls, on the whole many priorities were roughly the same.

Although the day started quite pleasantly weather-wise, it deteriorated dramatically once we got to Nkombo and we were wading through mud I suspect too sticky to imagine. The more we waded the heavier our shoes became until it became difficult to lift our feet. The children certainly had the last laugh on this occasion being far less inhibited by their bare feet than we were in our ‘sensible’ walking shoes.

We reached the boat finally, and once in motion settled down to a truly English picnic, in the pouring rain, of course. Soggy sandwiches, even hard boiled eggs. But then, amid the doom and gloom, a vibrant pink box seemed to ascend, almost, from Emma’s bag, containing two complete layers of chocolate eggs! We were all momentarily transfixed in ecstasy before diving in rather frenziedly, without the finesse my mother tried to teach me.

Supper was significantly enhanced by our second Easter treat of mini lemon cupcakes decorated with crunchy chocolate eggs. A small African fabric pouch each, filled with Thorntons chocolate egglets, completed the excitement for the day. But I suspect that that small sample of chocolate nectar could be the ruin of any sort of ‘calm’ acceptance of deprivation….

#6

Day 14 Today is a public holiday, but not really for a reason of celebration: it is the first day of Genocide Memorial week, a time of reflection and contemplation for Rwandans, and an opportunity to discuss what happened – hopefully to ensure it is never again repeated. For us, we felt it was a time to keep a fairly low, respectful profile. So after a comparative lie-in, getting up at eight o’clock, we had a quiet start catching up on reading, e-mails – and blogs. David, thankfully, was feeling quite a lot better after the new antibiotics had begun to kick in. He actually looked human, rather than a drained and exhausted hollowed out skeleton. The down side was that he was back to work with a semi-vengeance, not giving himself the slightest chance to take it easy and revel in his new-found health.

Having realised we’d seriously failed in the holiday stockpiling – we didn’t even have bread, or, worse still, avocados! - the boys, Martyn and I decided to go mad and treat ourselves to lunch out. Big mistake. The Peace Guest House has a location to die for, and some delightful, round, straw roofed villas – but service is definitely not its strong point. A cheese toastie, omelette, some local favourites and a portion of good old chips took over an hour. We reckon we cracked the cooking order of play when Martyn’s toastie was stone cold, almost rubberised in its flexibility and with cheese that had seen a good few decades we suspect, before we came. Not our most successful meal – but perfect location, and with the aid of a pack of cards, the time passed pretty acceptably. A very pleasant hour’s walk back completed the outing.

It was very noticeable that Kamembe, which is usually a town in constant sway, bustling and busy, was truly a ghost town today.

Whilst attempting not to feel too insensitive, I settled down to sleep with one overpowering wish – which was not, altogether altruistic I confess: I was praying that David would be feeling significantly better, if not fully recovered, so that at least not both Aaron and Henry would drive up to Kigale with him – and preferably not even Aaron. My ulterior – and very selfish I admit - motive was, of course, not to have to take their place in an extra teaching session.

Day 15 Joy was indeed mine when David was up looking remarkably better. He proved how good he was feeling when he announced that he would be eating some breakfast! Poor guy had starved for days with a hideously inflamed throat. Martyn and I waved him off to Kigale with strict instructions to ‘keep up the fluids’, and Aaron and Henry off to Mururu school, me with a bit of a smug grin on my face. Old bat.

Martyn had an appointment with the ‘former district engineer’ (but what is he now?!) to try to persuade him of the validity of renovating rather than condemning the farm manager’s house. They seemed to get on and both respected each other’s viewpoint, to the point that Martyn felt we should return to the farm for a little further investigation, to test out Damosin’s concerns. So after lunch he, Aaron and I bumped and bounced our way up to Murangi Farm along gluggy mud-rutted potholes in the 4 wheel drive used genuinely for its purpose: no Chelsea tractors for us. They hacked away at the brickwork and drilled into the walls, whilst I had a chat with the piglets and and checked on the new born calf: what a little sweetie.

From the farm to the dispensary, a part of Rwanda Aid’s recipients as yet unknown to us. A very clued up nurse called Emilienne talked us through the system and we left feeling most relieved to have seen a positive side to the availability of medicines here that we weren’t expecting. I know that this doesn’t extend to the whole country, or area, but at least it was a start.

Near disaster struck when Martyn and I popped down into town on a red wine mission, having run out a couple of days ago, only to find the shop shut already, as part of the early closing for Memorial week. We managed to struggle on, having broken the news to the boys and ended up having a ‘gourmet’ meal, with our first real pudding - Aaron knocked up some amazing banana fritters – in spite of such trauma.

Day 16 Evaluation day at the school. Aaron, Henry and I went as lambs to the slaughter – though fortunately people were mainly kind – although they did emphasise how much they had wished for more grammar. Not something us native speakers are too hot on it has to be said – but not to them!

From Mururu to Remera school, miles out into the sticks, along a road barely worthy of the title – but with views beyond superlative. I was welcomed so warmly by the heads of both the Primary and Secondary schools, and treated to a Fanta, the height of entertainment here. The school, as so many others, is poorly resourced, desperate for new classrooms to accommodate the new 9 Year Schooling programme (previously only six) and pretty depressingly gloomy inside, but there was a positive atmosphere and friendly staff. Both the two heads have a two hour walk each way to school, and earn US$26 per month. It rather makes me reassess the teachers’ lot elsewhere.

Martyn had a frustrating morning where everything conspired against him in terms of completing tasks or beginning new ones. So this afternoon he went to check on the ‘new’ road, or at least on the progress of the repairs, and came back in a much more positive frame of mind. Aaron went with him – and arranged to give Ferdinand (the roadbuilder) a free day’s labour on Saturday! These Aussies sure are tough!

I‘m slowly getting my ‘report’ typed up, constantly wrestling with the finer points of Word going nearly demented when it suddenly seems to change from regular 12 point font to 16 bold without apparent rhyme or reason. Martyn assures me it’s much cleverer than me and pre-empts all kinds of operations before I’ve even thought of them – whether I want that or not. Frustration with bells on.

#5

Day 11 I confess to feeling rather smug this morning as we waved Aaron and Henry off to do their teaching stint. They didn’t seem remotely fazed (or is it phased..?) by the prospect however, which was a tad galling.

Martyn and I walked up to the farm on the kind of pretext of checking the road along the way, but actually a new calf had been born yesterday and we were keen to meet her and pay our respects. She was delightful, though her poor mother was mooing soulfully in the next pen.

On our return journey we met the sorry sight of a fairly large truck, part of the road repair team, with a full load of sand and cement, stuck in a major ditch. Ferdinand, the man with whom Martyn has had all his ‘discussions’ regarding the cost of the repairs, was looking somewhat worried – yet remarkably cheerful in the circumstances. Meanwhile, Martyn was bighting his tongue as this was the first of the three “iriraro” (i.e. bridge) and they should’ve expected… I’m not altogether sure how they intended to solve this ‘hitch’ but I think unloading the sand and cement, dislodging the truck and reloading it was definitely on the cards. Oh yes, and whilst the truck was stuck, the road was also entirely blocked to traffic. But Rwandans have time…..

After lunch there was a major shop to be done. We have decided to hold a barbecue for various employees and their families. The original plan was for next Sunday but on chatting to one of the potential guests, Patrick, our driver – and one of the nicest people one could ever meet – we realised that would not be appropriate: the week ahead is ‘Genocide Memorial Week’, with the particular memorial day being on Tuesday. It is a public holiday, but the rest of the week is half day holidays and intended for families and friends to get together, remember and consider how to ensure it is never repeated. As Sunday is in this ‘sensitive’ week, it seemed an inappropriate time to hold gaiety and parties. So we made the decision to hold the barbecue this Sunday instead, giving us minimal planning time. But we’d drawn up a mammoth list, had called on the help of both Francoise, the cook who knows where to buy what, and Patrick, for translation, and together the assembled masses went off to hit Kamembe. Amazingly everything on the list - apart from condensed milk (so no banofee, boo! hoo!) – was found. Patrick who has been given the task of coming up with some sort of barbecue is confident in his ability, and the charcoal has now been purchased. Tomorrow will be a busy morning as we are catering for over twenty.

This evening we’d been invited to Patrick’s house for a meal. It was a lovely evening and they are a truly delightful family. He has three young daughters who later sang for us, and a very smiley wife who is an excellent cook. We had an absolute feast, about eight different dishes, and left feeling remarkably podgy. The weight crisis continues.

Day 12 Barbecue Day. Tons to do. Poor David had come down with some really nasty lurgy. He can’t swallow or speak, has a fair temperature and feels generally lousy. Such bad timing as he was looking forward to the ‘do’. Instead he was confined to bed. For the rest of us it was all hands to the pump as the three ‘boys’ spent the morning mincing (no pun intended) beef fillet into tiny shreds for burgers. Three hours of their lives never to recover, tedium beyond belief – but very impressive results. I was on coleslaw and veg. duty, chopping an assortment for the kebabs and shredding merrily. All was running pretty smoothly – if one ignored the constant moaning from the kitchen table mincers – until, getting closer to ‘the appointed time’, the electricity went off and the heavens opened with even more force than ever before. It was quite staggering, the ferocity. We thought it wise to postpone the start until the rain had subsided at least to a point where we could actually see the outside through the torrents. Usually the electricity returns quickly but this time some hours passed and the potential of a very dark evening loomed ahead. In the end the rain almost stopped and the guests arrived: eight adults and twelve children. After the usual few ice-cracking minutes, but once the “Fantas” were distributed, all was in full swing and I really do think a great time was had by all. Apart from poor David in his bed of course. Even the electricity came on. The children confirmed utterly that children everywhere are fundamentally exactly the same – although this was a remarkably polite and well behaved bunch, yet still full of beans and spirit. Martyn got out the ‘Bop-It’ game we’d brought with us and after the initial excitement from the children, the real kids were Patrick and Prince who sat totally hooked and absorbed for ages.
Overall a most successful afternoon.

The evening was dominated by the fact that we were all absolutely shattered. Not even enough energy for a game of cards.

Day 13 How long had I been anticipating this day?! Well, mid-day actually, so still had to get through the final three hours of teaching, but it felt like the home straight. Today I had my trusty assistant teacher, Martyn Harris with me as David was still really unwell – in fact looking into flight availability back to England. The morning actually went quite painlessly with a fair few laughs along the way with the ‘students’. Then it was over and I felt free! Hurrah! (But not for too long actually as another threat looms. Although David is slightly better today, there is still a chance he may fly home in the next day or two. If this is the case, Aaron and Henry will drive him up to Kigali – and I’ll have an unscheduled teaching stint on Wednesday, filling in for them on the subject of History! What a pleasure. So now I have a double vested interest in David’s recovery! Poor guy has looked so unwell it would be great to see him chirpy again – and….!)
I’m actually in absolute awe of these teachers we are helping. Some of them are in their sixties so what a task suddenly to have to perfect another language – they already speak fluent French and Kinyarwandan – in order to keep their job, in many cases. We don’t know how lucky we are.

Martyn had a further meeting this afternoon up at the construction site of the disabled children’s village and Aaron and Henry took someone from the ‘Mother’s Union’ up there to measure for curtains. What a task that has been, trying to track down acceptable material, and I’m not altogether sure we’re there quite yet. We want ‘vibrant’, ‘loud’ and ‘dazzle’ and whilst they have to be the champions of this brief on the clothing front, they really haven’t got it covered with the curtains.

I continued with my interview notes and, for a bit of relaxation, knocked up some supper. We’ve got worryingly low on the ‘treat’ front and I’m beginning to fantasise about chocolate biscuits and pudding… And the boys are trans-fixed by pork pies. Dream on baby!