Clubbin' the night away.......

Feb 15th

Once again, today just sums up why I’m having such a ball out here. And anybody reading this who is vaguely thinking of doing VSO – just think: how does your day compare with what follows? So what are you waiting for?

Woken once again by the earth moving for me. Ten past six and there’s an aftershock from yesterday’s earthquake. Who needs an alarm clock when geophysics does it for you? (And am I frightened? It’s going to take something of magnitude 7 to make me frightened…) (Don’t tempt fate – Ed)

Off to Inspect on my own for the first time. It’s our nearest primary school, Gahogo, which is the part of Gitarama where we live. Trouble is, I’ve not seen a primary around here; nor has Tom. I ask a local, and he charmingly gives me detailed directions. Completely the wrong way. That’s twice it’s happened. I decide to get real and keep asking people so I can perm the average of what they’re saying. Eventually I find the place. I’m late, but then who cares in Africa?

Espérance, the Head mistress is charming and speaks clear French. We get on well. I’m shown into every class and talk to the children. She’s got a complicated school with a maternelle on site, but a private primary school run by parents (and nothing to do with her school) on an adjoining plot of land with no fence between them. Just across the valley is the big Gitarama prison, with inmates in their pink pyjama-type overalls working the fields.

She’s got two teachers off sick and there’s no supply cover. So two 4ème classes have been combined, and when I go in the room there’s well over 100 children. The air’s thick like soup! A 1ère class has had to be left to themselves while she talks to me; the Head is the only person who can cover them. A visiting muzungu means within seconds that every square inch of window and door space in the classroom is filled with little faces.

I sit in and inspect two lessons, including one where, for the very first time since I got here, I find a teacher is using groupwork. HOORAY! Children are sitting in groups; they’re learning actively; they’re making independent decisions; the groups are working in competition with each other. I could hug the teacher!

I do the administrative inspection with the Head teacher and debrief the two I’ve inspected. Her results are around average for the district; her buildings range from good to mediocre, but she’s got the right ideas and she’s efficient so I’m going to give the place a good write-up. It’s the classic case, like Étienne at Ntungamo, of someone determined to make progress in the face of whatever obstacles.

Now I’m running late. I’ve been four hours at the school. I get the first bus to Kigali and in the VSO office I can check mail and start the important business of catching up on gossip.

We’ve been booked into a nearby hotel (VSO’s paying) for the night. As darkness falls we haggle for a taxi and go to a restaurant where we’re having a party to welcome the new batch of arrivals. Feels very funny not to be the newbies any more! There’s around ten new people; none of them are going anywhere close to me, but some are working in education management. Two are primary headteachers on short-term VSO/NAHT placements. We do all the introductions and I get some of their mobile numbers. (I never used to be so assiduous at collecting young girls’ phone numbers. What’s happening to me)?

We eat an enormous meal and start some serious drinking. (We’re almost completely teetotal at Gitarama so it’s like making up for lost time).

Meanwhile Soraya has phoned me from Butare and is going to be very late. She’s had a horrendous week. Firstly, she’s been ill with malaria – sweating, cramps, headaches, the lot; then she’s been without electricity for the whole week as a result of power cuts and earthquake, so her mobile’s run down and she’s been out of contact. Then her school makes her work Friday morning when she really needs all day to get to Kigali and make use of some Programme Office time here. (Funny how it’s me who gets the call – I think they see me as their father figure…)

So when she eventually gets to Kigali and a matata to the old Amani guesthouse, Marisa and I go to escort her to the restaurant. She’s so pleased to see us, and us her, too. But people are good; a young man, total stranger, has not only lent her his phone on the bus to ring us, but has escorted her to the Amani and waited with her until we came to collect her. He doesn’t expect anything back. That’s what you can get in a country where Christianity is so strong.

After the meal things start to spin out of hand. It’s too early to go to bed, and with the entire VSO complement in Rwanda (about 45 people) in one place it’s time to socialise big time. So a bunch of us go to a club, but it’s pretty dire. The music isn’t any good to dance to and the drinks are dear. We’re in the in-between time when all good Rwandans are getting to bed, but the party people are just getting ready to go out.

We dither around with various Rwandans, some are boyfriends and others just hangers on with our older-established VSO girls, until about 1 in the morning. Then four of us decide that we want to dance or there’s no point in staying up.

So this is how I find myself in Cadillac until half past three in the morning. There’s just Kersti and Nick, her Rwandan boyfriend/fiancé, and me with Épiphanie. Cadillac is THE nightclub in Kigali; it’s THE place to be seen. And here am I, a slightly shabby old man, with beyond question one of the most beautiful women in the whole of Rwanda as my partner. It’s one of those moments when you want to pinch yourself and ask if this really is happening! Épi dances like mercury; me like a tethered bear. The music never stops; one track segues into another and you could dance continuous from midnight to nine in the morning if you had the stamina. Some of Nick’s friends are there and when they dance together, doing all the moves, it’s hilarious to watch. We spot another VSO, who is going to remain anonymous, with a Rwandan partner. Eyebrows twitch…… Daren’t say any more in a public blog!

We estimate that at least three quarters of the women here are hired by the hour; Épi goes to the cloakroom and within seconds there’s a hopeful girl shimmying round me. No chance, mate! I’m dancing with the best there is and that’s that. At around 4 o’clock we decide we’ve had enough. Épi’s been up since half past four in the morning in order to get buses here, so she’s almost asleep standing up.

High point of the day – guess.
Low point – overpowering B O and flatulence in the matata to Kigali. And no, it wasn’t me. Honest.