#2

Day 3. It’s Friday so it must be Bweyeye. An early start at 6.30am to help combat the length of the journey, took us through a national park with the sighting of only one colobus monkey, along hugely more bump and slump than anything approaching a road, to an incredibly poor village close to the Burundi border – and choc-a-bloc full of children. It was rather a frightening statistic to learn that there are twice as many children as adults - and multiplying fast. Food scarcely stretches close at present so with the ongoing extra demand it’s – yet another - major problem in the offing.

We were met by the pastor, at the school (mostly funded by Rwanda Aid), introduced to the head and taken on a tour round the classrooms to meet the children. Delightful: polite, attentive – and very, very poor. There is no electricity in the entire village, so obviously no computers, or, in fact anything at all at the school, including books, posters and stationery. As David and I went for a meeting with the head and most of the staff, Martyn went off to explore the village with Aaron and Henry. As the meeting was ending I noticed rows and rows of children sitting lined up outside for what, I assumed, was an assembly. When we actually went outside, we found the reality was Martyn,,Aaron and Henry, sitting on some steps, being eyed up in a most orderly fashion, by the assembled masses of Bweyeye school. They had previously discovered their Pied Piper tendencies when they moved around the village followed by at least two thousand children (or so it seemed) – and no flute!

Next stop was visiting some AIDS orphans who had been helped by Rwanda Aid, having been found looking after their younger brothers and sisters, alone in shocking conditions, the oldest aged only about 10 or 12: unthinkable. They had been given simple houses and some support, and in this follow up we were looking for the best way to offer help now, several years on. Ideally RA want to provide a small patch of land, or a skill – one girl really wants to learn sewing skills – to aid self-sufficiency. Quite an education for
us to be sure.

Lunch with the pastor and his wife – plus about ten other assorted folk – was massive and delicious – where are these pounds going to go…?

Another four plus cramped and sticky hours bumping and jolting, arriving home to the most welcome cold beer. Bliss.

Day 4 began with two completely gorgeous girls arriving with
their order of hand made cards. Alphonsine’s smile was the biggest yet I think and that is quite an achievement. She orgnises some of the disabled kids at the disabled village into making cards from plant leaves and beaded necklaces (from magazine cuttings!). Her “team” had made hundreds of these cards over the past few weeks and she literally clapped for joy when she saw the payment money and let the notes fall in a scatter all around her. Completely infectious, and a most uplifting start to the day.

After breakfast, Martyn, David and I began a walk to Murangi Farm, a teaching farm demonstrating good practice both in growing and cultivating, and in looking after the farm animals. It is another of Rwanda Aid’s projects where people are brought in for training and some of the animals- chickens, pigs and cows particularly - are given to needy families, with conditions regarding proper care, for eggs, milk etc. Animal waste can also be put to good use in vegetable plots and the practice generally helps those in dire need to get on their feet and achieve a degree of self sufficiency. Along the way we ‘walked’ the road that is in desperate need of repair so that Martyn could make suggestions regarding its improvement.

We collected a motley assortment of interested children along the way who consistently stuck with us despite the two hours it took us to get there with all the stops to photograph the road damage. One was still there an hour later when we left the farm, ready to escort us all the way back again. Now that is perseverance.

We bought the most luscious avocados of all time today; it’s Aaron’s birthday and in addition to managing to greet him with ‘Happy Birthday’ in Kinyarwandan first thing, we’re giving ourselves the challenge of providing guacamole and garlic bread canapés with aperitifs served on the balcony before taking him out to the ‘pork restaurant’ (it apparently serves only pork and bananas….) for supper. Even after only a couple of days here we know that such luxury is nigh on unimaginable. The even bigger challenge of banoffee pie has to wait till I can find a spare couple of hours to boil the condensed milk! (if we can find condensed milk..).

David and I went to another school today but this one was much more hopeful in terms of – well, everything really. It actually gave the impression of a school with hope: well laid out, students appearing involved, interested and having fun and staff with some vision. The down side was that we were there to arrange a timetable and key discussion areas for English conversation classes with the teachers of the school. This is to assist them in their task of having to teach in English from next year by recent decree of the government. I’m in absolute terror at the mere thought of such classes as they are to include aspects such as drama and role play, speech making, debating techniques: all my absolute fortes as most people will understand. At the end of our meeting we were in for a real treat as a group of students had prepared a music and dance display which they performed for us. It was absolutely fantastic with a huge African drum, superbly tuneful singing, and dancing proving categorically that Africans really do have the rhythm in them. There was one absolutely hideous moment when I realised that one of the dancers was drawing close to me for a reason: I had to join in the dance! Imagine my ‘joy’!

We realised it was getting late to go for supper on our return so the guacamole challenge failed as we headed straight off to the restaurant. No menu on offer, just order the pork by the kilo, and perhaps a side of fried banana. 3 kilos later we were all well satisfied, and plenty refreshed thanks to the cold local beer – Mutzig. Martyn and I joined the youth - Birthday Boy Aaron, and Henry, at a ‘happening’ bar – except that I’m not too sure much actually ‘happens’ in small town Kamembe… We then moved on to another bar with a Rwandan friend of ‘the boys’ where, it seemed more really was going on – it all got rather vague from then on. I finally had to accompany two rather merry young boys and a bit of an aging one (Mr. Harris) along a dark and extremely bumpy uphill road back to our house. It was gone midnight so we all felt decadent and a bit wicked.