Day 4 The princess and the peas

Like a fairy tale princess I wake up under a mosquito net, which might have come from IKEA children's department.  I'm glad of it, the rainy season has returned and with the tropical storms come the mosquitos.

The climate has changed dramatically since the Genocide.  One  casuality of the war was the "desictaion of the the trees". Rwanda is a landlocked country, but the geography of the Great Lakes and surrounding volcancos provided a plentiful rain fall twice a year.  The fertile soil produced three or four high quality harvests of  'imboga' (vegetables).  In the last few years the unpredicatibility of the seasons has meant the planting of "Irish" potatoes, peas and beans has been delayed. Food is wasted or never grown.

"It's been the rainy season since July" (it's now November) I was told by a Rwandan Development Consultant "it's not good for the people".

It's not good for me either, although it's never cold by UK standards an umbrella is a must carry necessity.  Tourism is a growth industry and the unpredictability of the rains deter foreigners.  It's a serious economic issue for the country.  With the roaming habits of gorillas not obeying human border controls, the whims of the ecotourists they bring may take currency to a neighbouring country.

What ever the weather, I'm just happy to be in a country where there is no translation for the word 'postcard'. Just as long as I have my mosquito net.

Day 3 Water

Water from the sky and from the tap, oh yes...

Rain on the corrugated iron roof, singing and drumming from.. I'm not sure were, started the day earlier than the 5.30am rising I'd planned.

Rwandan custom is to rise early and dress well.  I  go native and wear high heels, a necklace and smart dress. Useless, of course, for negotiating the red mud or dodging raindrops.

With a power cut last night I had to finish writing my speech by torchlight. An arduous affair.

On the face of it Rwanda is a country changing rapidly, forging ahead with a programme of construction. Everywhere you look schools, offices and roads are being built ,but the water and electricity supply are far from reliable. "Our leaders are strong and they want the peope to change quickly" Julienne, a librarian, told me yesterday..  A sentiment I've heard frequently.

At the MTN mobile 'phone shops, the slogan  declares "shop here for electricity".  Water and other utilities can be bought by 'phone, as can internet time and satellite tv.  Every street corner has a vendor selling top 'pay as you go' cards. It's so easy, it makes Britain look like a country from another era. Sales of cell 'phones have exploded. They offer a cheap and easy way for people  to access the necessities of modern life at the punch of a button.

Rwanda buys most of its power from neighbouring Uganda.  Where, I'm told, regions of the country can go for a week at a time without power, while the Government sells it's electricity abroad. .

In Britain we take for granted hot and cold running water.  Light at the flick of a switch. Yet, we are at the mercy of an old fashioned utility system and stand helpless as our household bills soar.

Global connectedness, we all now  plainly understand,  affects each one of us.  A crisis in one part of the world will ripple through into our daily lives.  Rwanda is not backwater in the world economy.  It's post war reconstruction is showing us what a newly made 21st Century country might look like, albeit enforced by the military.

The Government wants to modernise and fast. But it doesn't do things the way they are done in the elsewhere in the world, it cannot afford to. Instead, it is educating its people in sustainable technologies,  Starting with a clean slate these bright young graduates are already starting to provide the intellect to succeed in the war of resources.  By 2020 the Rwandans aim to be specialists in sustainable energy.  Where will we be then? Writing by torchlight, turning on an empty tap or buying their knowledge?

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow....

Snowmen in Africa. It's the modern day equivalent of monks exporting their faith to far flung regions of the world, but still following the same Rule. Monks ended up wearing cotton habits in the winter months, and woolen ones in the summer, because the Rule dictated the particular months certain clothes should be worn. Here in November, the Southern Hemisphere children are in the middle of their summer holidays.

Three years ago the Rwandan government declared English the official language. Formerly a colony of Belgian, Rwanda is largely French speaking. Pupils had to switch language in the middle of their studies and French speaking teachers with insufficient English were out of a job.

The result was a widespread shortage of teachers. Volunteers from the U.S. filled the gap and Uganda provided a more stable source of staff.

These teachers discovered a shortage of books, English books, that is. Shipments of American and British books were donated to the young of Rwanda to help them learn to read in our tongue. And that is how I found myself reading to an eager bunch of children about snowmen.

When the coldest it gets is a tropical thunder storm and the children are more likely to keep a goat, than have a dog as a pet, how can this new language be anything other than academic? If were are going to export our language, let's ditch the books about dogs, cats, hamsters and snowman, stop acting as though we were monks from a time gone by and give some thought to recipients of our charity. Anyone out there ready to take up the challenge and write a Rwandan English storybook?

Ultimate Frisbee

Shank's pony is still the best way to travel anywhere in the world. So I slipped my minder and his car and took to sauntering along the roadsides like the majority of Kigalian's. Kigali is not a cosmopolitan city, a white face in the crowd is still a novelty, despite the numerous NGOs operating here.

I met a Mennonite teacher this morning, she hailed from "Chicago, Ilinois, U. S. of A.", who in her spare time plays with the Rwandan Ultimate Frisbee team. Last weekend she visited Uganda, why? To play an international match of course - Rwanda against Uganda Ultimate Frisbee.

Not being an extreme sport fan I decided against taking her advice and avoided the moto taxis.  Sitting on the back of a motorbike driven by a young Rwandan playing his own extreme sport along the red dirt streets is hardly my idea of fun. The dust roads on the hills of Kigali are slippery with dried mud and potholes, as sharp as a pair of scissors and as lethal. They're as likely to cut into the crowds milling along the edges, as a route to the mountains. Where tarmac is laid, it's courtesy of the Chinese. 


I've already managed to slip, slide my way under the car I was stepping into and covered myself in red, red mud. I'll stick to Shank's pony for now thank you. I'm not really an 'Ültimate' kind of girl.

Day 2 Bibles for Breakfast

This morning there was no water. No water to flush the toilet, no water to wash with. It's a hot day and I have to attend a meeting of Church diginatories, with lank hair and a lipstick painted grin.

At 7am drugged with sleep after my long journey I was already late for breakfast with the Pastors, whose books and bibles were all ready on the table for their bi annual meeting to discuss spiritual doctrine. I scuttled away with a plate of omlette, bread and hot milk. I'm rarely up for discussing spiritual doctrine, especially when tired, smelly and hot.

Eating outside, people rushing to bring me a chair, a table, this strange white woman amongst so many men, perfectly happy to sit on the floor, I've probably offended someone.  In order not to offend further I dress, covering  shoulders to knees. It's the custom for women to dress modestly, its not easy for someone whose preferred hot weather attire is shorts and a vest top.  Pant pant.

Day 1 Kigali

Fried Banana, cassava, beans, spinach, rice and sweet potatoes for lunch ...and supper. Its the traditional Rwandan meal. Delicious, after a miserable delay in Nairobi airport with only airline fodder for sustinance.

Our lunch time restaurant is pleasant, modern, self service. Well dressed young Rwandan men and women sit at tables talking into mobile 'phones. Like any 21st century city, Kigali is addicted to technology. Huge adverts adorn the busy, hillside roads, they shout loudly; mobile banking; MTN internet; cell phones.

Inside the cool of the Genocide Memorial the image of modernity is quickly banished. Display cabinets of femors. Row upon row of photographs clipped to strings; wedding snaps;student cards; picnics on rugs. These are the dead.

Children (the same age now, as my own student daughters) Survivors. They talk about the day their parents were machetted to death, perhaps it was the year my girls remember starting school.

A room full of skulls, which could have been my parents, my husband, my children ..me

Nearly two decades since the Genocide Kigali is booming with construction. It's green and fertile land is changing. It's people set on healing the wounds of it's past, it's government setting the pace of change. "no one has time to fight with neighbours" said Julienne, my guide for the afternoon.

Is the new Rwandan blueprint working? I hope to find out a little more in the next weeks.