#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.

#4

Day 8 (2nd week & 1st April) After a lousy night’s sleep I didn’t feel completely raring to go on my visit to two different schools not too far from each other about an hour away from here. But Patrick, our lovely driver, was ready so I bade farewell to the others and off we went. I had a wonderful time! Patrick took a very scenic route through villages and gave me lots of local information. As ever there were numerous enchanting looking children waving and calling out as we passed. The first school I visited was a primary school built entirely by the generous donation of one family from a school in Richmond (Surrey), linked to Rwanda Aid. It was delightful, well run and had a very warm and welcoming atmosphere. The children were all outside digging and planting after just having finished exams. They were so polite and interested and, of course, followed me round as I went on a tour of the school. Eventually the whole school was assembled on the football pitch to sing and dance for me. It was brilliant! I steeled myself to address them all and we had quite a laugh with our lack of mutual language. It is frightening however, that the government has decreed that all lessons are now to be taught in English. Most of the teachers speak only a little English and very few overall have enough to teach in it. It’s a major challenge – and problem – for the country but they are making strides to begin to solve it. I’m jolly sure I couldn’t learn a language in a few months, even if my job did depend on it.

The second school I visited was a secondary school with 99% of the students being genocide orphans. A pretty sobering thought. Another well run school with a fantastic head, a pastor called Obadias. His English was the best yet and his sense of humour even better.

Martyn spent two hours this morning thrashing out the finer points of the building programme for the disabled village with the Big Chief Builder. Fortunately by the end of it he was very happy with the outcome – and they are still friends. He also spent a few hours compiling the report of the survey of the earthquake damaged house – and has produced a most professional – and David reckons very convincing – document of some length, with loads of impressive looking letters after his name!

Real, honest to goodness chips tonight, courtesy of David the expert chip-maker. Wow they tasted good! Henry had pushed the boat out and bought some Heinz tomato ketchup he’d spotted in town, With some tasty stew cooked by Francoise and an assortment of veg. it was a feast indeed.

Day 9 So what are the down sides of life here in Rwanda? Well, I really hate teethbrushing without the use of a tap! It’s not that we haven’t got running water – albeit intermittently – but it is definitely not recommended for consumption in any form, so we stand hopelessly with our water bottles and trickle dribbles to little effect over froth loaded toothbrushes. Then of course there are the nightly wrestles with the mosquito nets which appear to cave in on us and tickle. Life is really hard as you can imagine… Heck! we even have to make our own bed (although the laundry and cooking are done for us) which is completely beyond the pail. So, as you may have gathered, it’s not too tough a life here in spite of the very wary reaction we had to the country almost across the board before we left – especially from ourselves. The atmosphere here is very relaxed and laid back: time doesn’t really matter. I think that’s the African way. One of the pastors here tells us ‘The British have watches, the Rwandans have time’!

So, this morning began with finally pinning David down, amid his manic schedule, to think about lesson planning for tomorrow when we are off to help the teachers of a local secondary school in their quest to improve their English. Since the government has decreed that all lessons be taught in English from next year – after many years of teaching in French – but without making any adequate provision for supporting the teachers (many, many of whom cannot speak English or have very little), a major problem has ensued. Many schools, like this one we are helping, are using some of their holidays for extra practice. Not having taught adults before, and knowing my general fear of speaking in public – and indeed of teaching generally! – it was a big relief to have help with the planning. It’s just dealing with the feeling of total inadequacy that gets me down… That, and the knowledge that, just because it’s planned doesn’t mean it’s delivered yet! However, we had a lot of laughs rehearsing role- plays (another of my big fortes!) and finished with a lot of material prepared.
Martyn’s been completing his survey of the earthquake damaged house and cracking on (no pun intended!) with his overview of the disabled village building. I have to confess he’s been doing such a good job. Everything seems to be moving forward swimmingly.

My afternoon continued with interviewing the heads of two secondary schools with regard to their size, structure, facilities and most of all, needs, to see where the help is most required from Rwanda Aid. The problem is that every school has major shortfalls: one yesterday had only six toilets between over 700 pupils and no handwashing facilities at all.
All schools lack books and resources of any kind desperately, but an enormous problem has also been caused by the government plan – albeit an excellent concept – to increase the length of schooling for all children, from six to nine years – but without providing the necessary extra buildings, or certainly not in time, where they actually have begun building. Sometimes the enormity of the problems is overwhelming.

By way of relaxation, Martyn and I went into town to have a wander. Not so relaxing, mind you, being the spectacle of the season. We walked further to the most spectacular views overlooking the lake and felt revived enough to tackle the steep dirt road home.

Day 10 Not the best sleep ever with the prospect of teaching looming. (Hard to believe I ever did do teaching for a living…) but went off with David to our doom at 8 o’clock. The teachers we were helping were delightful and very receptive and interested. Also very good sports as we gave them some role play to do which would have absolutely appalled me in their position. But time ran out before I’d had to do my ‘bit’. Great in one way, but all still looms ahead. It’s no longer quite as daunting though.

Martyn took a walk along the road he’s thrashed out the repairs for and was relieved to find that they have begun well and continue apace.

It’s raining again. I’m almost beginning to think I’m back in England – although I believe it’s been lovely there – as it’s been grey and wet for days. The only difference is that usually, once it has had a good blast of torrential downpour, it’s over for a while and the sun dries everything pretty quickly. I can’t imagine how some of the locals manage however, as the state of the majority of housing does not appear to be well equipped to deal with drizzle, let alone heavy rain.

Martyn went up to Ntendezi with David and a Kenyan lady who had experience of running a home for handicapped children in Kenya. They found her input really interesting and useful and have hopefully managed to avoid certain pitfalls and teething problems by speaking to her.

There were also a few assorted evangelical Canadians who had gone along with them for interest’s sake. Somewhat intense and earnestly good, but here in Rwanda on a laudable mission as they were attending a conference to help the counselling of Genocide victims here.

I spent the afternoon writing up interview notes in order to produce a report on the schools I have visited, and hopefully make some possible recommendations on where help is most needed. Quite a tough call though, as help is vital absolutely everywhere. Sometimes it’s difficult not to sink into hopelessness, and I have to remind myself that, in the immortal words of Mr. Tesco, ‘every little helps’.

#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!