Thursday Jan 17 th

Up very early today, ready for 8.00 departure. Marisa left at 7.00; I was the only one of our group up early enough to see her off. It feels as if we’re living a real-life balloon debate where our numbers keep whittling down and down.

I’d spent poor night – alternately boiling hot or freezing. It can’t be a temperature because the antibiotics working in full swing now. So I assume it must be a side effect of the lariam drug.

Claude joined us for breakfast but not before I had been buttonholed by Raina and she tried to get me to agree to teach some English at her school. Claude told us he was getting married in Mid-Feb and has invited us all to his wedding. Wonder how many others will come but I definitely must!

Eventually all of us except Epi left at the same time. Tiga and Soraya were sharing transport down to Gikongoro; their stuff crammed into back of 4x4. You’d think it straightforward that two vols + 2 staff and a load of kit would be a carload. But no, two extra teachers turned up for the ride. They must have been absolutely crammed in. As a result Cathryn, who had also been hoping to hitch a lift down to her new post, had to go into town and catch a bus.

Eventually our driver Alphonse turns up in the red official pick-up, and we load our stuff in. I must say, Claude seems so much more on-the-ball than a lot of them. First we went into town centre – Alphonse had to go to the bank. That meant 30 mins in sweltering sun; we couldn’t find any shade to park. Then Claude wanted to go into another part of town near city bus station to print off some stuff, so another 15 mins parked in full sun watching the world go by. Good job I had my water. Alphonse stood out of the car guarding my stuff in the back. Me very conscious of having all my money – about 400000 RwF in cash in my day sack, plus Euros etc. I’d have made the best kidnap target they could have imagined!

Eventually we were on our way to Gitarama/Muhanga. Past the infamous “1930” prison, with inmates in faded pink uniforms digging in the grounds. First through some very downtrodden parts of the city (made me realise that the area around Amani is pretty classy). Next a huge market area on the fringe of city. Across the wide Nyabonga river which marks our entry into southern province, then past the main road junction, turning away from the road up to the north, the volcanoes and gorillas. Then through series of flat valleys and winding ridges all the way to Gitarama. About a 40 min drive – we never went at more than about 40, and with bends and gradients and other traffic you can’t do it any other way.

Lots of settlements, especially on the hilltops, where most of the crossroads seemed to be. Papyrus growing in marshy valleys; sugar cane, soya, bananas everywhere. Fewer goats than I’d expected – mainly crops growing.

But the scenery is wonderful. Green, terraces everywhere, with patches of trees, even small woods in places. Nowhere is there room for really “wild” stuff, though, there’s too much need for farm land. Occasional we passed a dairy farm with cattle under cover to protect them from the heat.

The road was beautifully graded and smooth. No potholes anywhere – what a difference from Kenya! Almost everyone driving carefully. There were police posts every few miles; we were never stopped but at most places someone had been pulled over to check documents etc.

We arrived at Gitarama quite suddenly. There was no real sense of being in a town, just that the groups of houses became much denser. We stopped off at Tom’s work to collect our key and met Christi his fellow worker (who’s sharing accom with Karen). Then to my new abode to unload.

We are living on the main road where it constitutes a relief road parallel to town centre’s main street. We have a modern first floor flat above the MTN telecomms office, with another flat next door. I am SO LUCKY when you consider what other people are putting up with either in terms of facilities or distance from amenities. We have a big lounge, looking very empty until fully furnished. The kitchen is quite small but adequate and contains a full size fridge-freezer which was Tom’s extravagance he bought for himself. Our bathroom has a proper, working toilet, shower and bath and washbasin. (I absolutely MUST remember not to use the water from the tap to clean my teeth). There are two bedrooms, both with fully fitted wardrobes). Tom’s is bigger but noisier as it faces the road. Mine is smaller but at the rear, and I think I’ve got the better deal. There’s just one problem – my furniture hasn’t arrived. I have no table, chairs, and, especially, no bed. But even then I’ve fallen on my feet – Tom has a spare mattress which I can use. It just means I won’t be able to use mossie net for a while, and will have to spray room before sleeping. (Good job I bought can of spray in the Chinese bazaar). (In any case Gitarama is so high up that we’re near the limit for mossies and it’s rare to see more than one or two in the rooms during the course of an evening). At the rear is a small garden laid to lawn and an ornamental border (the guards do the gardening and grass cutting). Can’t see anywhere to plant my flower seeds and the veg seeds from Tiga; will have to invest in some pots anon.

Tom gives me keys and leaves me to it while he goes back to work. I just dump all my things in the room, because Claude takes me to the district office to show me round and introduces me to about 20 people, none of whose names will I remember. The District office is a rather dreary official building covering all civil administration – finance, legal as well as education. His office is tiny; there’s not really room for two of us so it’s still to be finalised where I’ll work. Then I leave; Claude promises to come at 1.00 to show me round the town.

Of course, he doesn’t show – he’s tied up at work. So I leisurely unpack all my stuff and find homes for everything in these fitted cupboards. Above them, there’s a wide, flat niche where I can store my case, rucksack and all the big plastic bowls etc out of the way. This makes the room seem bigger as well as tidier. I’m going to like it here!

Cathy Nicholl texts inviting me to her place, so I explore the road to hers and she comes to meet me. She is down a dirt road in a lovely western house surrounded by Rwandan huts. She has a view across top of the prison across to the hills. Come to think of it, everywhere in Gitarama has a view of distant hills (just like Bridport but the hills are higher). We talk over tea and I warn her about Raina, and about Claude’s mutterings that he might ask Cathy to work weekends. Then Elson, her new husband, arrives. He’s a teacher in nearby school and very pleasant. His brother is staying with them, silent on the sofa watching a DVD. It’s reassuring to find that some young Rwandan boys are just as uncommunicative and unsocial as English teenagers!

They walk me home and Tom’s just arrived back from work, so introductions all round. We’ve all been invited to Karen’s for lunch on Sunday, so it will a chance for all the volunteers in Git to meet up, whether VSO or FHI

While Tom cooks our evening meal (there’s a flurry of negotiations about money, cooking, laundry etc) I get the iron out and clean the soleplate. Then to my joy I discover that at a lower heat it works well and doesn’t snatch at our clothes. I manage to iron all my shirts save those in the wash, so feel pretty smug. (Offer to do Tom’s but he doesn’t bother with ironing). Tom cooks us a really good meal – meat, various veg), feeds me and the night guard too. We sit and talk for a couple of hours.

We try to get my wind up radio to work. I still can’t find BBC world service, but find Rwandan stations, all of which seem to be broadcasting religious stuff. A pity, because the row of shops opposite broadcasts loud music all day long. Mostly local stuff but a lot of reggae too. It’s not bad music, but a bit relentless. You can’t shut it out by closing our windows because each room has airbricks for ventilation, and the sound just comes in through them.

Eventually get out my new sleeping bag and – luxury – silk liner, and off to sleep

High point of the day – the flat. It’s lovely; I’m so spoilt
Low point – leaving friends in Kigali; feeling apprehensive about coping with work and sharing a flat with a stranger.

Meeting my boss for the first time

Wednesday Jan 16th

Today is the Employers conference. It’s the beginning of the end of induction. All of us beginning to feel collywobbles at thought of leaving the safety of our group at Amani.

The Employers are slow arriving, quite a few can’t come and sent representatives. This is difficult for those of us who need to negotiate timetables, workloads etc because there’s nobody in authority.

Finally I meet Claude Sebashi. He’s small, neat, fit, and very young. Sharp, too – he asks a lot of leading questions. He speaks good English; fortunate, this, because I find his French accent and speed of speaking French difficult to follow.

The conference itself starts drearily (reminded me how nice it had felt to retire from teaching), but comes alight during discussion over contracts. Raina, a woman of European origin sitting next to me, is head of a private primary school and has a legal background. She’s very combative and as a result nothing is finalised about our contracts (the idea was to agree and sign them then and there with our employers).
.
The conference ends with a long speech from Alex, then we feast with goat brochettes (at last! And VERY good they are, too).

Afterwards there’s nothing left to do but to pack up all our things ready for moving out. We all feel very flat and nervous about what is to come, but we all try to put a brave face on and nobody wants to admit they’re scared. What will our new accommodation be like? Can we do the job? Some of us have already been dropped-on with more teaching or more subjects than seems reasonable. I’ve still got no idea how I am expected to get to the farthest fringes of Muhanga to fulfil my inspection role (Claude has made it clear he wants me to focus on raising classroom standards through inspection and monitoring).

Nobody seems in the mood to go out for a final drink. We all retreat to our rooms. A phone call from Teresa is most welcome, then we all settle down for an early night.

High point of the day – meeting Claude at last
Low point – all of us dreading splitting up, being on our own, possibly isolated etc

A sobering visit....

Tuesday Jan 15th

Today was our final Kinyarwanda lesson. It was a review of all we’ve done (makes an impressive list but we’ve done it so quickly it hasn’t had much chance to sink in ). More role play with language – Marisa and I did a convincing impression of hiring a moto ride.

More heavy rain a.m.; so cold we all needed fleeces on. The weather here is peculiar; it can suddenly go very cold – down to English temperatures – but then just as quickly the sun will come out and sky clear and we’re in equatorial Africa within five minutes!

My stomach is just about back to normal, thank God. But I get the impression my errant bowels have been a topic of conversation at the Programme Office because everyone seems to be asking me how I feel. Embarrassing or what?

Late morning we have a Global education talk (what was that all about?), then a quick evaluation of the whole In-Country Training course with Gerard (a visiting assessor from Nairobi).

After lunch the atmosphere gets sombre. We visit the Genocide Museum in Kigali. We’re shown mass graves, one deliberately left open with coffins visible. There are bouquets of lowers left everywhere, and as a group we add ours. It’s a beautiful museum building with landscaped gardens, everything symbolic such as a circular pond representing a pre-genocide unified Rwanda, then a star shaped pool to signify disunity.

I thought that having been to both Auschwitz and Yad Vashem I would be hardened to this sort of thing, but no chance. After about two hours we all felt a desperate need to come back to the living. This genocide museum really gets you in the throat. Why? Is it the COLOUR photos as compared to the black and white of world war 2? Or is it he recent-ness – we can all remember it all happening while our Governments stood by?

It is beautiful clear air and late afternoon light; Kigali’s looking wonderful. The road back from the Museum crosses a swampy valley with slums – sewage strong enough to smell through car windows. Then immediately, up the next hill, we’re in the embassy quarter with the new U S fortress in a prime site and luxury hotels along the roadside. What a difference a few hundred yards can make in this country!

Some of us stopped in town to send e-mails; I spent a frustrating 4 minutes before I could even get logged on properly. I think all the machines are riddled with viruses, and there is clearly no broadband connection except in a very few favoured locations in the city centre (and I haven’t located these yet). We walked back to Amani through rush hour traffic. The roads are dark roads, there are deep gulleys to fall into and traffic whizzing past very close, and yet drivers and pedestrians all seem calm. We, too are beginning to get used to being out on the street and feel more relaxed.

After the museum everyone was very subdued. It was especially hard for Tiga – she has both Jewish and Armenian ancestry, and the room in the museum which described other past genocides besides the Rwandan one was very gruelling for her.

I must describe my shower at Amani. It is an electric gadget attached to the shower head. It looks amazingly suspect in terms of safety and wiring but it does work. However, when I switch it on the room light flickers crazily. I have visions of me electrocuted, naked, in stream of water from shower…. Not a pretty prospect.

Best point of the day – feeling well again. Arranging to get laundry done ready for Gitarama (new sheets etc). Bargain for 50p
Worst point – everything related to the genocide. The waste, the stupidity, the ineffectiveness. And yet you can walk all round Kigali and not be aware that it had ever happened. And places like the Mille Collines back in business serving same types of wheeler-dealer clientele, the new elite of the country.

The Mwami's revenge.....

Monday Jan 14th

I’ve had a bad stomach bug for two days now. Alone among our group, I’m not able to keep anything inside me. At breakfast it was decided for me that I should go to the polyclinique. Felt such a failure – I’d lasted less than a week before falling ill. And knowing that it must be my fault – eating or drinking contamination. And yet, I’ve drunk all water from bottles; brushed my teeth with bottled water. I haven’t eaten any unpeeled fruit with the skin on. Can’t work out why I’ve been clobbered. I was driven to the Polyclinique by Bosco and Josie-Marie. It was pouring rain – the first day I’ve been unable to wear sandals. Cold, too, so here we were on the equator with the car heater full on, and me in heavy cagoule and fleece. I signed on with Polyclinique – the first of our group to need a registration card. I was seen almost immediately; had to explain my symptoms in French (good at first but shaky in response to his follow up questions). I have a slight temperature. Then a blood test (yes, a clean needle…), then out to a smelly loo in backyard next to path lab to produce a stool sample. Oh the indignity…. Despite having diahorrea I was straining away for ages to get enough to make the sample look usable. I handed it in and sat in foyer reading my book, watching CNN on TV (Kenya looks like it’s on verge of falling apart) and watching the other patients. These range from totally immaculate to elderly and down at heel. Then after an hour I was summoned to see the boss (who we had met a few days previously when being shown round). He took my pulse, told me I was very fit for my age. Didn’t tell me off, but then I already knew it was my fault. Told me to avoid dairy produce, eat lots of rice & bananas, drink black tea with sugar. Gave me a scrip for antibiotics and anti cramping pills. Another wait while these dispensed at the Poly. Then returned back to our Amani guest-house base with Bosco and Josie-Marie in time for morning tea. Meanwhile I’d missed a Kinyar lesson on telling time, which turns out to be a nightmare. First of all the words are based on Swahili, then the first hour of the day is 7.00 a.m. which is SERIOUSLY confusing!

More Kinyar until lunchtime; we’re getting fed up with all the language stuff.

After a cautious lunch, I had my placement discussion with Charlotte. I’m still not sure whether I’m asking the right questions but seem to have the right ideas in how to approach – go slowly, read up all I can find in the office, ask people, go on visits. I think I’ll need to do a lot of visits before the long rains arrive. Can’t get any great feel for job till I meet my boss on Wednesday – and then the very next day I’m off to Gitarama and into the job proper.

At end of afternoon we were finally get taken to the Programme Office to collect passports, then we could go to the bank and GET SOME MONEY! And how! – we each took out RwF396,000 which comes to a fair wodge of notes. With all this money (and it was issued in full view of other customers) we all felt vulnerable, and walked home all in a tight bunch convinced we were going to get mugged any minute. But no, we were just being paranoid muzungus. A frantic hiding of money among our clothes, then settle debts from the past few days.

After supper we were supposed to do Kinya-rwanda homework but made a joint decision to forget it and watch a video instead. Epiphanie had such a huge luggage allowance she’s brought a projector, so we watch silly film (Maybe Baby) and chill. Kersty’s Rwandan boyfriend Nick came round, too. I broke out jelly teddies so we had comfort food. By end of film we’d all forgotten we were in Africa; we’re all relaxed. To bed but unsettled night because, like the others, I haven’t caught up on missed work or prepared for role play in morning session…

Best point – needing and getting treatment. Pin sharp views across Kigali and surrounding hills after the rain.
Worst point – feeling of failure in falling ill

My Brain Hurts!

January 11th

We’ve fallen into a routine now, and feel very much at home in our protected little enclave. There’s a constant procession of volunteers coming and going who pop in to say hello (and get a free feed!)

Our Kinyarwanda language lessons are now very exhausting – two sessions of 90 minutes today; our brains are reeling. Also this afternoon we learnt how to set up our mosquito nets properly in our houses, and how to light our kerosene and charcoal stoves safely. Kerosene is smelly and charcoal is messy. We’ve all got a hurricane lamp for if (when) the electricity goes off. Tomorrow we’re into Kigali centre to the Chinese market to buy all our domestic stuff – pots and pans, buckets, mops, washing powder, matches, clothes pegs etc. We also had an intense session with an experienced volunteer who briefed us on the idiosyncrasies of the Rwandan education system. It’s a Kafkaesque maze of old fashioned formal curriculum, with exams so hard that most children fail. Secondary school is fee paying (£25 a term which is a lot in Rwanda) and it’s going to be a real challenge to find a way in to start tackling the local implications of the national muddle.

At the moment we’re all exhausted by the heat and the concentration of it all – there’s a huge volume of stuff we need to learn or get proficient at. Fortunately we all get along well and I know we’ll be meeting up at weekends in each others’ towns once we’re all settled in.

It’s turned dry and very hot from about 10-30 until about 5.30. The nights are quite chilly. Best time is the early morning. I get up at 6 to try to get an hour’s study done or sort my stuff out. It’s cool, the birds are singing and Africa feels great.

Now for the really good news. Got through to Tom, the church aid worker I’m to share a house with. Apparently we’ve got pretty reliable running water – hot water, even – and the electricity’s pretty constant. I don’t have to buy curtains either, and we’re cooking on a gas stove. He’s even got a fridge/freezer. Have I struck lucky or what!

High points of the day – everything, really; it’s all new and exciting and very, very real!
Low points – nothing in particular, just the sheer volume of stuff we have to cover.

First days; first impressions

Last night I didn’t sleep particularly well. I kept tangling with my mosquito net (it feels like being inside one of the old-fashioned muslin meat safes), and although I was tired I felt too wound-up to sleep properly. Then at 4.30 the nearby mosque broadcast its call to prayer, followed shortly after by all the others across the city. Exotic and romantic, certainly, when heard for the first time, but preferably not so early in the day. My body clock was still telling me it was 2.30! Just got back off when at 5.30 the birds started a kind of shouting match right outside my window, and by six I could hear people walking past my room and gave up trying to sleep.

I got up and had a leisurely unpacking of my kit – I seem to have brought half as much again as anyone else but that won’t matter once I arrive in Gitarama. And everything will get used eventually. First problem – the tap on my washbasin was dry. Next problem – I couldn’t get the shower to work. But I had cold water and a bucket, so problems were over. If we don’t have water on tap in Gitarama I’ll have to pay someone to bring me jerry cans of water for everything, and showering with a bucket will be par for the course. It certainly jolts you into action!

Plus points – the electricity is reliable, so no problems recharging phone, laptop etc. I have two rooms, a small bedroom and a huge dressing room-cum-bathroom.
The rooms are cool and clean. Just a few small spiders and the odd very big ant. Oh, and a fat little lizard who lives in an airbrick in the wall and (I hope) eats any insects who might be tempted to visit me.

I haven’t seen any mosquitoes in my room (yet), but they’re certainly in Kigali city and the most prevalent form of malaria is the worst sort which goes onto the brain. Gitarama, where I’ll be going on Jan 17th, is nearly 2000 metres high and almost beyond the reach of mossies, but for the meantime I’m taking no chances – lariam tablets, mossie net at night, and wire netting over every window!

Our daily routine on this training course is going to be exhausting. Today we started off with finance. Within half an hour we six volunteers had three million Rwandan Francs between us – half a million apiece. We were given a cheque for our first three months wages in advance, and instructions on how to open a local bank account. (Remember we’ll be doing this in French, with all the usual form filling to complete…) Then we were given 100,000 RwF to provide our household goods – bedding, curtains, buckets, pots and pans, a stove, cutlery. VSO provides us with bed and water filter. On Saturday we’ll all go to the Chinese supermarket in the town centre and the market place and haggle for our things. By the way, the conversion rate is £1 = 1000RwF, so we’re not all about to decamp to the Caribbean and party the year away…. And the picture on the 5000RwF note is…………..a gorilla.

After finance we filled in applications for our work permits. We are employees of the Rwandan ministry of education (teachers) or the local education authorities (for advisers like me. My employer is the Mayor. But Gitarama doesn’t have a mayor at the moment; he was sacked just after Christmas for carousing and enjoying the company of women other than his wife! English politicians take note! Not sure where this leaves me legally if my employer doesn’t exist, but, then, nobody seems to be worrying so why should I?).

Next, we piled into pick up trucks and were driven through Kigale to the VSO head office to meet everyone there and see what facilities they have to offer. It was a jumble of names, procedures and the like, but it meant that I’ve met the VSO official who is in charge of me during my time here, (Charlotte), as well as a whole bunch of other serving VSOs who had come in to collect money or kit for particular projects. They seem a sociable crowd and provided we’re all prepared to travel within the country, we won’t be getting lonely.

By lunchtime it was hot and humid, and we had a traditional Rwandan lunch of “melange”. Melange means mixture, and it’s an apt description for a massive carb feast – rice, chips, polenta, pasta, all with peas and stewed goat and fried fish. There’s always a salad side dish. There’s plenty of fruit – pineapple, sweet bananas, passion fruit. And lots of water. We’re trying to stay hydrated but somehow we never quite seem to drink enough. I think it’s because the water comes in little half-litre bottles (nobody here would dream of drinking water that didn’t come from a sealed bottle, and it’s a social gaffe if you don’t break the seal in front of a guest to prove to him that the water you’re giving him is clean). We feel guilty about all the pile of water plastic bottles we’re accumulating day after day.

Next came our first official lesson in Kinya-rwanda, the language. I prided myself on having done a lot of work on this before leaving home, but soon discovered that my pronunciation was rubbish because most of the words aren’t pronounced as they seem. We’re trying to wrap our mouths round something like “mngwaramutse” or “ni bgyiza”. It’s funny to watch others trying, but it feels like trying to talk with a mouth full of mashed banana. Still, by lunchtime we could say hello and goodbye in several different ways, and knew which we could use with our friends and which we mustn’t use in front of the boss etc Let’s just say it’s a lot more complicated than English and after a heavy lunch in stifling heat we weren’t at our sharpest. We ended up being given homework to do before the next morning’s session.

Meanwhile outside there was the rattle of gunfire from an army shooting range not far away, and the occasional heavy thud much closer. In the guest house where we’re staying there are mango and avocado trees. The avocados are ripe and fall off the tree at intervals. Kind of deters you from sitting under them: it would be tragic to get concussed by an avocado on our first day in Africa!

Finally, two VSOs who have already been in the country a year spent a hilarious hour telling us some of the local customs and how to avoid making gaffes. For example: Handshakes – with left hand on your right elbow to show respect to an elder or superior. Phone calls are expensive here, so nobody ever switches off their mobile. If a phone rings during a conversation, the person will just break off whatever they’re doing so they can answer the call – even if it is someone addressing a room full of people. There’s a national obsession with toothpicks; after eating you pick and flick the bits of goat or mango stuck in your teeth all over the table (or your neighbours). A lot of communication is non-verbal – raised eyebrows means “I agree”, for example when you’re negotiating a taxi. To get someone’s attention you hiss loudly. But never hiss to a woman; if she responds you assume she’s “loose”. If she’s virtuous she’ll be offended. It’s common for people to visit you at any hour of the day, and expect to be invited in and given food or drink.

By this time we’d had enough. We mutinied against further work and walked down into the city to find an internet café to be able to contact home. This turned out into a mini epic in itself. It was already dark and rush hour was at its height. There seemed to be a total free for all and almost complete gridlock with cars, mopeds and minibuses all weaving around each other; pedestrians everywhere including the middle of the road, and huge lorries loading at all the most awkward places. On unlit roads it’s lethal. We found a café and sent our messages, but the lines are very slow and I’m not able to send photos on the blog until I find somewhere with a faster link.

You’ll understand that after yet another meal of melange and fruit we just flaked out straight to bed!

AAAAfrica at last!

Now I think I must come clean. How better to start the African section of my blog with a confession?: On my way to Rwanda I had an assignation with an enigmatic young woman at Brussels. At the last minute before leaving Dorset I arranged to meet up with another VSO volunteer who was flying up from Toulouse to catch the same plane. It seemed fun to fix a blind date with Tiga-Rose over coffee in the transit lounge. Recognising each other proved little trouble (how many giant bearded Englishmen wearing tropical clothes will you ever find in a cold and clammy Brussels January)? Alas, we never did manage our coffee – my flight was late arriving – but we managed to negotiated seats together on the African flight. Tiga is going to teach English at Gikongoro, about half a day’s minibus ride from me, so we’ll be able to support each other when the going gets tough and Africa piles up on us…… That’s how VSO works.

It felt a mighty long way to Kigali. At first the flight was wonderful; the kind of journey you dream of. Clear skies over the Alps, and a vista as far as the eye could see of thousands of snow covered peaks, crisp and pristine, like a frozen sea. Then, in a while, the coast of Croatia with amazing elongated islands; a mapmaker’s dream floating underneath us and contrasted against the bright blue of the Adriatic. Greece was covered in cloud, but over the Med the view cleared in time for us to see most of the Nile delta loom up and gradually roll past below us. An olive green uniform mass, distinguished only by the glint of sunlight off drainage channels. More murk and dust haze over Egypt (we missed the pyramids), until suddenly it ended abruptly. And there below us was Abu Simbel and the lake stretched out beside it. We followed the Nile southwards all the way to near its source in Rwanda, with razor sharp ridges of rust-coloured rock projecting through a blanket of dun sand. For about two hours we flew over a landscape with nothing man-made recognisable from the air. Past Khartoum, past Juba, until the land below faded into evening dark, with just spots of flame from nomad campfires visible even from 30,000 feet. Over Uganda everything was in pitch darkness, with just a splodge of light to mark Kampala. Then we were descending across the Virunga volcanoes and sleeping mountain gorillas (sorry, chaps, if our jet woke you) and watching a distant lightning storm over the Congo as we approached Kigale. The airport stands on a flattened hilltop and we shuddered to a halt just yards from the end of the runway and a busy road. Almost everybody on the plane descended in Rwanda, with just a brave few going on to their final destination in a troubled Nairobi. (The news from Kenya doesn’t improve, and our Rwanda friends, many of whom have relatives in Nairobi, are fearful for the future unless the political crisis is settled soon).

At the airport we were met by a reception committee of VSOs already in the country and staff from the country headquarters. We were terminally jaded and tired out, and I can’t tell you how nice it was to be welcomed so enthusiastically. Our luggage (nothing mislaid en route, hooray!) was loaded into a pick-up truck; then us on top of it, and we set off through the warm tropical evening with their air ruffling our hair and dozens of mopeds weaving their way round us. What a contrast to clammy Gatwick! After the wastes of Sudan, Kigali was ablaze with lights and traffic; the epitome of civilisation. Lots of people out on the streets, roadside shops open, knots of people talking, half the others shouting into their mobile phones. We were introduced to four more VSOs, most of whom had arrived from Canada the previous day, but by then we were struggling to remember our own names, let alone theirs! All we wanted was food, a shower and bed and we gratefully sank into oblivion. The night air was cool, our accommodation spacious and quiet; it began to feel as if we we’d come to the right place to get settled in and prepare for the very different Rwanda beyond Kigali’s city boundary.