So, again, it’s been ages since I wrote. I’m so behind I don’t even know where to start. Perhaps I should start with my holiday on the school break, to Zanzibar, Tanzania, the Spice Island.
Rwanda borders Tanzania on the southeast corner and the flight from Kigali to Dar el Salaam was about three hours. Most of what I saw from the air was desert-like with amazing, swirling, sand formations that were probably at one time, rivers and streams.
My two colleagues went by bus, twenty-eight hours and hassle at the border. No thanks, my old bod can’t do that anymore. (Their trip back was 36 hours because some jerk refused to pay the $50 visa fee at the border and after a long delay, he was apparently arrested).
Lonely Planet warned me of the touts in Dar that try to convince you that you need to let them get you a taxi, take you to the ferry or a hotel, or sell you a ticket, (over-priced for sure but they think you don’t know that there is a legitimate ticket counter at the ferry!).
So, on arrival, I met a well-travelled young lady and when we discovered we were both going to Zanzibar, we shared a taxi to the ferry where we luckily met up with Colette and Kelti.
In the ferry terminal, away from the touts, a nice surprise awaited us! A snack buffet was provided for everyone before boarding the ferry and the samosas were to die for! Must be the local spices!
The ferry was brand-new and went really fast! It took about three hours to get to Stonetown and while waiting, we watched dreadful movies in freezing air-conditioning.
When we arrived we were able to walk to St. Monica’s Guesthouse which is in the old slave market. In the courtyard beside the huge Christian church which is called, St. Monica’s, (I mention Christian because Zanzibar is VERY Muslim and it sort of stands out like a sore thumb), is a pit with statues of slaves with chains around their necks. It’s too realistic.
St. Monica’s Guesthouse was no great shakes but then $50 a night for a room for three ain’t bad. AND, they had hot water.
We were two days in Stonetown and enjoyed checking out the many shops. Stonetown is a maze of passageways, some passable by cars but most were too narrow for anything but motos. You had to keep your wits about you as any minute a moto or bicycle would come flying around the corner, unannounced.
In the curio and art shops it was obvious that artists knock off Masai-like paintings that only differ slightly and the baskets, trinkets and jewelry were the same. We got quite good at haggling.
But, do they ever hassle you! As you are walking along, they will step right in front of you and say, “Karibu, karibu” which means, welcome, but there is no sincerity. Their eyes are saying, “Come and spend your money!” However, we did find one shop, run by three lovely women, that had unique and reasonably priced items and we did most of our shopping there. Wait till you see the Zanzibarian Santas!
The most interesting thing I saw in Stonetown was the old Fort which was built by the Omani Arabs in 1698 to defend themselves from the Portuguese and a rival Arab group. It is an immense, medieval-type structure with castellated battlements and thick walls. Over the years it has been used as a prison and holding cell for slaves and in recent years, an amphitheatre was built for live performances.
Tucked in one corner of the Old Fort was an artist’s workshop where I fell in love with a painting. It’s of a Muslim woman in a purple garb but part of her face is showing. The artist has splashed colour everywhere so that if you look at it up close, it looks like a mish mash but when you stand back, you catch the emotion and wonder what she is thinking.
The artist wanted 120,000 shillings. Normally, if you walk away, they come up with another price but he stood fast. I left and while we were up-island, I kept remembering her face. So when we returned to Stonetown, I went back and paid full-price for her. We carefully wrapped her up and I babied her all the way home to Byumba where she catches my eye when I sit at my table.
While in Stonetown, we found the Livingstone restaurant and bar on the beach and religiously attended ‘happy hour’ each night. The tables are set right on the beach and as you sip your drink, you watch the sun drop into the sea and the tide coming up. If you were not looking at the sun going down, you could watch the stream of black bodies walking huge packs of cargo, (heaven knows what was in most of the bundles), onto a huge cargo ship. It was interesting to observe, that for some reason, they loaded vehicles onto the ship’s deck first and then these poor guys had to maneuver around them. It was fascinating.
We also discovered Mercury’s Bar and Restaurant which is named after Freddie Mercury. Freddie was born in Zanzibar but was not born Freddie Mercury. But listen to this bit of trivia! I happened to pick up a travel magazine that had pictures of something called the Mercury Project which was a monitoring station built on Zanzibar by the U.S. in the 60’s to monitor the first satellites that went into space. Wonder where Freddie got the name???
We then decided to go up-island to a place recommended to us called “Kendwa Rocks”. To get there the girls decided we would take a dala-dala. I cringe just thinking about it.
Picture a small Suzuki or Toyota truck with benches lining the perimeter of the truck bed and a rough canopy overtop. The area of the truck bed is less than that of a van and believe it or not, they had twenty-one people squashed in, eighteen smashed together sitting, and three on the floor or I should say, on peoples feet because the aisle was so narrow. The supposed three hour trip was only one and a half hours due to our lunatic driver.
We arrived in Nungwi where we had booked a night at a hostel called James’ Hostel. This was a mistake. Not to bore you with how bad it was, suffice it to say, we only stayed two nights. However, the beach was fabulous. Only drawback, we were being stung by little medusas.
At sundown we would find a restaurant overlooking the sea, sip Margaritas and watch the sun set over the wide expanse of ocean. Every night the view was different, the blues and greens of the ocean constantly changing, the many, ever-present dhows silhouetted against the black islands in the distance and the ever changing sky.
After settling up with James, we took the bus over to Kendwa Rocks. It was your typical, beach resort with cabanas and restaurants and bars but was quite charming. We spent our days swimming in the turquoise sea or sunning and reading on the fine, white sand.
We stayed in the dorm and I unluckily got bed #3 which I painfully discovered in the morning, had bed bugs. Colette spent the remainder of the holiday reminding me to stop scratching. What is it about me that attracts these blood-sucking critters???
It was a lovely holiday but I was so glad to get home to Rwanda where everything is clean. I thought it quite amazing that in one day I was able to travel from Stonetown to Dar, Dar to Kigali and Kigali to Byumba and be home in time for supper.
Since returning to Byumba I have been quite busy getting out to schools with names like, Mutandi, Nyande, Bugomba, Myumbu, and Rukizi. I arrive early in the morning and give a mini-workshop on their 20 minute break plus 20minutes of their class time where, supposedly, the kids are doing seat-work. Again, the language barrier makes it difficult to communicate but I have found ways to show, rather than tell.
I spent quite a lot of time preparing a Shopping Activity for a school in Mutandi. Betty was teaching about money but totally from the textbook. Knowing that most of these kids handle very little money, I photo-copied items that they could buy and created money for them to shop with.
Last week I took the kit to Mutandi and we introduced the money to the kids. Betty would say, “If you want to buy a banana and an avocado, how much money will you need? Show me!” The kids would then sort out the paper coins to show 150 francs. Next visit we will set up the “store” and the kids will be challenged to spend all of their “money!” It’s fun!
One thing that I’m proud of is setting up a Penpal exchange in Rukizi, thanks to my dear friend, Myrna in Blackfalds. On my bookshelf are seven letters from Canada for Rukizi kids, ranging in age from 6 to 10. Twice my return to Rukizi has been thwarted, once because of illness and the other was the inauguration of President Kagame and no school the day I had arranged to go. As it is, I am booked to return on September 13th.
This weekend is VSO’s Family dinner which is always a stunning event. Last family dinner we were treated to the Intore dancers. The dinner is mainly in honour of the new arrivals and for an opportunity for us to get to know one-another.
At this point in time, I must think about my decision as to whether I leave after one year or stay for a second year. I waffle back and forth. When I am being bitten by fleas, I just want to GO HOME! But then I think about how much I have finally accomplished and how much more effective I would be if I stayed a second year, then I’m torn. Will keep you posted!!
On a very personal note, my son James, who has beaten cancer twice and probably would not be here today if it wasn’t for Terry Fox, (a Canadian who ran across Canada to raise money for Cancer), is raising money by running in the Terry Fox Run for the 23rd time and hosting a barbeque and silent auction.
Terry had the same kind of cancer as James, lost his leg and ran on a prosthetic. Because of the research done with the money Terry raised, James did not have to lose his leg, they only removed his fibula.
If you would like to make a donation, please visit this address:
http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?registrationID=929136&LangPref=en-CA
I thank you in advance.
