#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!