#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.