Better Late Than Never

It has been weeks since I have felt like writing my blog, don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I’m embarrassed. Let me explain
.
On March the fifth, I went to Kigali on my way to a weekend with friends in Kibuye. I intended on taking the 5:00 bus to Kibuye so spent the afternoon at the VSO office checking out the resource room and talking to my Program Manager.

Time flew by and I realized I needed to get into town to take the bus to Kibuye but that it would be the 6:00 bus instead. Away I went on the Volcano bus from Remera.
I sat with my overnight bag on my lap and had my big bag on my right shoulder, next to the wall of the bus. As I was sitting on the bus I felt a hand touch me on the right hand side. I simply wondered if he wanted to adjust the window. I should have realized that I was being robbed.

I had a lot of Rwandan francs, about 100,000 which is about $200 CND. Somehow he was able to unzip my purse that even had a flap over the zipper and remove my money purse which also contained my VSO mergency phone number.

I arrived downtown not knowing I had been robbed. I enquired about the bus to Kibuye and was told the last bus left at 5:00. Oh, no! So I went over to Virunga bus, the bus company that I take to Byumba, and sure enough, their last bus to Kibuye had also left.

As I was talking to one of the regular fellows at Virunga, I looked down and discovered the pocket of my bag, OPEN! Frantically I searched my entire bag to realize I had lost my money purse.

By this time it was getting dark and I began to get frightened. Then I thought, “I can do this, just think!” As I was standing there, thinking and probably looking distressed, a young man named Sylvestre approached me and asked if he could help. I said, “I have just been robbed and I’m not sure what to do. Would you let me return to Byumba and let me pay

So you can probably point out my major mistakes thus far.

1. Checking the bus schedule in advance would have been a good idea.
2. Zipping my money into an inside pocket so that a thief would have two zippers to unzip, would have been a good idea.
3. Placing some of my money in different places or wearing a money belt, (I have a brand-new money-belt, but after being told that Rwanda is really very safe because thieves are severely dealt with, I didn’t bother).

So, now what! My first thought was to call VSO. I had office numbers for VSO but as I said, their emergency number was in with my money.

No answer, everyone had gone home! Then I thought that maybe they would let me sleep on the bus and then take the bus back to Byumba in the morning but as I was looking at my VSO identity card I noticed the phone number for the British Embassy! Aha! So, Sylvestre, bless his heart, dialed the number for me on his cell phone, (oh, mistake number four, it would have been a good idea to bring your cell phone with you!), and the British Embassy transferred me over to Anna Maria McCarthy, the Canadian High Commissioner here in Rwanda.

To make a long story short, she and her lovely Newfie husband Bill arrived in the official Canadian vehicle with Canadian flag flying . Out of the vehicle and arms around me in a huge hug. Into the vehicle and then told we were going out for dinner with friends. They took me to a wonderful, sort of Middle Eastern restaurant and I even had beer, not warm beer but icy cold. What a treat!

After filing a police report at the police station, they took me to their home, a fabulous six bedroom mansion with a pool where Anna Maria drew me a hot bath in a huge bathtub and left me to retire in a gorgeous bedroom with a Queen-sized bed. Oh, what luxury after my thin, foamy that I sleep on in Byumba.

I was so impressed with how I was looked after, I penned a letter to Stephen, Stephen Harper, that is, and in order to get it there faster than Rwandan mail, I emailed it to my friend Wendy, to forward for me. Unfortunately, he hasn’t replied yet!!!

So, I have certainly learned a lot of new lessons!

Back in Byumba, things are still moving along slowly. I keep visiting the Diocese elementary school in Byumba but return home with a feeling of despair. Number one, communicating is SO difficult as I speak virtually no French and even less Kinyarwanda, (although I’m learning, at least the important words, like food words and how to get from here to there!), and, then second and then to forever of frustrations; so many things that need to be fixed.

I go to observe a class and the class of 70 kids is sitting without a teacher. I go in and usually sing with them until the teacher arrives and even then, the teacher doesn’t want me to stop; they want me to continue teaching. (VSO doesn’t want us there as teachers but as Teacher Trainers).

Lessons are painfully slow, totally chalk and talk.
Lessons in English are taught with incorrect English and unrecognizable pronunciation.
Children are hungry or tired.
There are no resources, not even rice sack charts.
Primary children are using pens which they open and then there is ink everywhere.
Cursive handwriting is taught in Primary????? (They also taught cursive to beginners in Chile. Don’t know the rationale there).
You don’t even want to know about the bathrooms.
And on, and on.

My Program Manager has given me some good suggestions and the best is that I get out and visit other volunteers to observe what they are doing. This weekend I am visiting a volunteer from England who has been here since August and is also a Methodology Trainer.

I have to tell you about our trip here. Because we attended the St. Patrick’s Day Ball in Kigali this past weekend, we decided to take the 2:00 bus on Saturday, to Dorothy’s village called Nekarambi.

Instead of the big bus, we had to take what they call a taxi. Now, this is something to behold! They are like a seven-seater van. Picture a Toyota van with four people in the very front, (including the driver), and then four rows of seats behind. On each seat there can be up to 6 people. That’s not including small children that are held on laps. Yes, one of those vans can transport up to 20 people at once.

Dorothy and I were squeezed in with only four across for most of the way but towards the end of the journey there were five. It’s apparently very illegal but it still goes on all the time!! I shudder to think what an accident would be like.
As I write it is pouring rain outside. I am in Dorothy’s house in Nekarambi and again feeling extreme embarrassment. Another whopper of a mistake has just happened within the last three hours.

I was supposed to visit a Primary school via moto and Daniel picked me up just after 9:30. Because it was pouring rain, I dug out the little, purse-sized poncho Pat gave me and put it on. I then decided to put on a sweater and then, rushing as usual, put the purse, (my Thai purse that Nikki and James brought back for me), on my shoulder, but because of the poncho, didn’t put it over my head.
Daniel and I started down the road in the rain and the poncho was flapping behind me. I put my arms behind me to tuck the poncho under me and didn’t realize that my bag came off of my shoulder and onto the road.

After we had gone quite a ways, I realized it was gone. We quickly went back and Daniel asked everyone along the way if they had seen anything. Eventually, we went to the police station.

Daniel and I entered a U-shaped parking lot where there was a wet and bedraggled line-up of people waiting with grievances they wanted to report, or at least, that’s what it looked like. Daniel took me to the policeman standing guard and explained my situation. I was allowed to jump line, (guess because I’m umuzungu), and carefully explained my situation to a lady policeman. Several of the constabulary discussed at length in Kinyarwanda and then I was summoned to the Police Chief, a tall, loud, full-of-himself authoritarian. (I was so proud of Daniel that he didn’t let this big man intimidate him).

As soon as he had me sitting across the desk from him, he became very charming and in not-too-bad English, questioned me. I was then loaded into a police truck with him, Daniel and a driver. We drove down the road and stopped at each gathering place whereby the Police Chief yelled questions at the bewildered people. As you would expect, no one knew a thing.

I suggested that he needed to get the word out that I would pay a reward for any information as to the whereabouts of my bag. So, he said to leave it with him, he would send his officers into the market to question people and he would get back to me.

I have lost a little money, my camera, my modem and my cell-phone. I regret most losing my precious notebook with everything I need to function in this country, phone numbers, names, procedures and a lot of ideas for future workshops.
I think I have made all the big mistakes now, everything else should be smooth sailing from now on.

Thinking positively though, I feel sure that this loud, but charming man will track down my bag. I got the sense that he was thoroughly enjoying the challenge.

The next day, Daniel again picked me up and took me out to Rugurama to see another school. Instead of a Headmaster, I met Awaniek, the most amazing female Headmistress.

I expected to be sent to classrooms to observe but instead was ushered into her office where her walls were covered with charts, photographs and kids art. One chart looked like the student body had been divided up into intramurals or something which is something I had not seen before in Rwanda. But it wasn’t intramurals, it was ‘class families.’

Because there are so many orphans in her district, she organized her school into small families, even the very youngest grades. Each class makes up a family of about 8 – 10 kids and then they choose a mom and a dad from within the group.
This small group of children is then given the responsibility of looking after one-another. If a child doesn’t show up at school, ‘the family’ must find out why and if support is needed, give it. If the child is having trouble with schoolwork, the group must help. WHAT A WONDERFUL CONCEPT!!!

After an explanation of how her school runs, she did take me around to see the classes and I was astounded to find that she even has a library with a colourful floor where kids can sit and read. Where did she get all the books?

The next day Dorothy and I visited another school that was mired in mud. I was wearing my pink $12.50 rubber shoes which thankfully wash up much quicker than runners. The particular classroom that we went to observe required shoes off at the door, (no wonder, our shoes were caked with red mud), and we all sat barefooted. I was asked to teach a song and we had great fun with “Fish ‘n Chips ‘n Vinegar. At one place in the song they have to say, “pepper, pepper, pepper, salt.” It comes out, “peppoo, peppoo, peppoo salt!! They can’t say r’s!

From Nekarambi, I came back to Kigali for a night and then up to Rulindo where I observed three fellow vols give a workshop. Rulindo is across the mountains to the West from me and I got to see the volcanoes from the other side.

It has been Mourning Week here in Rwanda with the entire population remembering the genocide so that it will never happen again. Everything in the country shuts down and nothing happens until after 4:00 in the afternoon. We have seen many outdoor gatherings with speeches and singing and watched very official ceremonies on the television where Colette and I went for lunch.

School break began on the 2nd of April so I was casting around for something to do. Many of the volunteers were going home to England or Holland or wherever but I thought I would like to stay in Rwanda and see the gorillas. I texted a colleague in Nogororero to see if she would like to go with me and she said ok.

We met in Gisenyi which is on the shore of a huge lake called Lake Kivu. We stayed the first night in the Presbyterian Guest House for 4,000 francs each which in Canadian is $8. We walked around and around Gisenye looking for another place to stay and settled on Paradis Malahide.

Paradis Malahide is absolute paradise. It’s right on the lake with little, round rondavels tucked in between the gorgeous flowering trees and bushes. The many varieties of colourful birds were a constant pleasure; yellow birds that I’m sure are the same birds we sing about in “yellow bird, up high in banana tree” and tiny red, blue and rust-coloured songbirds. Such bright colours and lovely songs. One bird sounds like a microwave! One day we saw a white-crowned eagle being dive-bombed by three, big hawk-like birds. They didn’t catch him but they were certainly mad about something.

We stayed two nights there. The service was provided by adorable young people who ran themselves silly making everyone comfortable. At dusk they lit a big fire in the middle of the main lodge and all the guests sat around the fire drinking wine, eating tilapia finger-food and trading stories. It was ever so relaxing!

We met a lovely young woman who is teaching in Tanzania. Too bad I don’t have any single sons! She is not only smart, delightful and entertaining but is drop-dead gorgeous. The three of us got along famously so we all decided to take the bus up to Musanze and go see the gorillas. So next day, that’s what we did.

We stayed a night in the Kiniki Hostel, just the three of us in one hut, and it was such fun, just like being back in the dorm in college. Hannah and Colette talked about a children’s show called Teletubbies???? Amidst much giggling, we decided that I was LaLa, Colette is Dipsy and Hannah is Twinkie. Do any of you know of these characters? Life is good when you can pretend you’re a kid again!

Next morning we walked the 300 meters to the meeting point where the Rangers put you into groups to trek in to see the Gorillas. We were put in a ‘medium’ group with a lovely, young woman from Germany named Lisa and two wonderful Americans, Ross and Nancy. Ross and Nancy very generously offered us a lift to the base of the mountain and even paid for porters to carry Colette and Hannah’s packs.

We walked, first across farmland planted mainly with potatoes. Per usual, people were very poor and the kids ragged and dirty but all with BIG smiles and “good mornings!” (They say “good morning” any time of the day).

Then we crossed a tall fence constructed of volcanic rocks that apparently reaches all the way to Uganda. This wall is to keep the buffalo from destroying the crops. We were able to get over this wall because the little devils had pushed down a section of the wall.

One of the men accompanying the group had a gun. I assumed it would be used if a gorilla threatened the life of a tourist but when I asked him, “why the gun?” he said, “to scare away the buffalo!” The gorillas have learned to tolerate people and there have been no incidents at all.

After crossing the wall, the climb became more and more difficult. Eventually it was like climbing a wall covered with vines and bushes. I am quite proud of myself that I didn’t require a helper to pull me up. Along the way were stinging nettles so climbing without using your hands to avoid the nettles, was challenging. I only got stung a little!

Finally we came around a little bend and there they were, sitting eating a sort of wild celery. The big mom would yank a huge branch out of the ground and then strip the bark away. I thought she was pregnant, her tummy was so big but the guide explained that this time of day was their feeding time and that they absolutely gorge themselves and then have a siesta.

She had the cutest baby which she cuddled and groomed and watched like a hawk. We saw a total of about six, less than I had hoped but we were able to watch them for about an hour. The King, the big Silverback, was partially hidden by trees and we only got a glimpse of his face twice when he raised his head and were able to see his silver back just as we were leaving. He weighs about 500 lbs.

While we were being briefed,the guide showed us photographs of the family we were going to see. Each gorilla has a distinctive nose print by which they are identified. Under each photograph was the drawing of that gorilla’s nose print and when we actually saw them, we could distinguish the nose prints. Fascinating!

The trip down was also a little tough. Poor Colette, because she has lost so much weight, stepped out of her shoes as they became stuck in the clay-like mud. It was so funny seeing her teetering on a narrow branch while the guides streaked to her aid, their gum-boots sucking as they ran! I’m still laughing!

After a nice lunch and beer at Kiniki, we took the bus back to Gisenyi and spent two more nights at Paradis Malahide. The cost was beginning to mount up at 40,000 a night and meals exceeding 5000 francs so we decided to take the ‘over-the-mountain’ route back to Byumba where Colette would spend a few days with me.

There was a partially paved road to a place called Base, (Bah say with the accent on say!), where we were told we could get a bus the rest of the way to Byumba. NOT! Base must rarely see umuzungus as were were literally surrounded by staring people. One fellow spoke very good English and I don’t know what we would have done without him. Somehow, he flagged down a Tea Company truck and negotiated a ride for us to the Tea Factory. I think he royally scalped us price-wise but we were between a rock and a hard place.

The manager of the Tea Company, a lovely man from Sri Lanka, arranged motos for us the final 27 kms. at 5000 francs each and after a very bumpy, scary trip in the dark, we arrived in Byumba at about 7:30, hungry and shaken up. The hips are still recovering with muscles hurting much like the stiffness after riding a horse!

April 14, 2010

This morning we got up at 4:15 to get to the bus by 5:00 so Colette could be assured of a seat on the bus to Base. It was pitch black walking up the hill to the buses and when we got there, no one was there. One of the buses was open so we sat and waited for almost an hour. As the sun was rising, people began to arrive. We were then able to establish that yes, a bus was going to Base and that Colette would have a seat. I went home to bed for a few more hours.

Today is Pat’s birthday and I am still without internet because my new modem is waiting for me in Kigali.