Out on the road again

Feb 27th

Absolutely brilliant day again today. If you’re reading this in England, how does this compare with your Wednesday?

We start at 4.10 with another earthquake. Quite different from any of the past three or four. Very short, about ten seconds only; very sharp jolt in the middle which bounces us all out of bed; you can feel the “S” waves arriving and passing. But no damage done. We’re getting blasé about mere earthquakes now.

I’m back on the road today, and feeling all the better for it. Cathy rings just as I’m waiting for her to say she doesn’t feel well, and could I do the Gatenzi primary school inspection on my own? No problemo, mate. I’m getting into my stride, aren’t I!

So I walk all the way to the District Office, trying to strike what seems to me a reasonable fare with the moto drivers. They all seem to be asking ridiculous sums for a trip just out to the outskirts of town. “Quoi! » I say, « Vous pensez que je suis touriste?” delivered with a contemptuous hand gesture. At the District Office I check with Venantie to see what she reckons would be a reasonable amount to pay. She says more or less what the last lot of drivers was asking…..

So I mount up and we’re off. Turns out that, yes, the sign for Gatenzi primary is just on the outskirts of town. But the school itself is several miles up hill, down dale, over rickety bridges and up slopes so rough and steep that the moto stalls and we have to push it up, then get on it again. I wish I had my camera in my hand to take some pictures.

The Headmistress, Imelda, greets me and we go on a tour of the school. All the buildings are modern, brick built with proper roofs and concrete floors. But why on earth has nobody installed water cisterns from the gutters? Outside each classroom is a pile of yellow jerrycans where pupils are ferrying water from the nearest spring to their school. It’s crazy. Yesterday alone we had enough rain to keep them going for a week! There’s other lunacies, too. This is a big primary of 1200 pupils, yet there are only 5 toilet cubicles. What on earth happens at breaktimes – do the students dash into the bushes? And, of course, there’s no electricity.

Here they do take their gardening seriously. There are little ornamental patches with flowers and shrubs all round the buildings, carefully marked out with edge-on stones at their borders. Even better, there’s two big areas of land where the students are being taught proper farming. On one of these a maize crop has recently been harvested, and the stalks and leaves are down for mulch. On the cleared ground they have planted macadamia nut trees – apparently these are ideally suited to the soils and climate of Rwanda and I remember reading before I came out that Rwanda could become one of the world’s leading suppliers. The trees are tiny and they could all die from drought or theft or vandalism, but it’s a hopeful sign. Somebody is doing some intelligent thinking both in terms of crop choice and in terms of educating the children into potential cash crops.

Even better, this is a primary school with its own little coffee orchard! Rows of trees stand on a steep slope, smothered with green berries that are just beginning to turn brown, then red and ready for harvesting. The Headmistress says they sell the berries to a local farmer who also grows his own. A pity – if they had facilities for washing the berries it would increase their market value about tenfold. Lack of water again.

Imelda is very organised and efficient, and the “inspection administratif” is the smoothest so far. Without Cathie I only have time to observe one lesson. It’s 6 ème English, half an hour on how to join sentences using conjunctions (so…..that). The teacher is clear and logical but, lordy, how I wish somebody would teach a lesson to really ignite these kids’ curiosity. Within her own parameters she’s done a good lesson and I mark her up accordingly. I go up to the front and introduce myself and talk to the class, going over the work they’ve done in that lesson and improving their English accents and trying to delicately correct some mispronunciations the teacher has given them.

Then I’m whisked off to face the entire teaching staff – 18 plus the Head – and asked to give them my pearls of wisdom on primary pedagogy. In French. I do my best, and we have a lively question and answer session. This is no Gitongati school; they’re still too wrapped up in what they haven’t got and what they need rather than what they have got and what they are already doing and asking how they can improve.

I tell them Jeanne’s recipe for success from Gitongati; some things strike home and others I sense are a tad uncomfortable to hear. One of Jeanne’s key ingredients is that she’s created an enviable degree of staff solidarity. Gatenzi, I fear, has some way to go. But then Gitongati got 78% of its students through the P6 exam; Gatenzi got 18%. The average for the whole District was 24%.

Ho hum. It’s not a bad school; it’s got potential to improve and I don’t get the feeling of crushing hopelessness that seemed to pervade the air at Rongi in the far north.

Back at the District office I get Innocent to photocopy a past P6 exam paper Imelda’s lent me. It’s the first time I’ve seen the dreaded exam, or at least the language components. The English standard is quite ridiculously high. I think I’ll send a copy to Andy and Ann back home and see how their yr 6s cope.

By afternoon Cathie’s feeling better and comes round. I’m almost done writing up my report. She’s done a proposal for funding for more primary training (we really must screw this money out of Claude), but is also beginning to turn her mind to going back to Canada and getting a teaching job in Ontario. We polish up her C V and try to prioritise what she needs to do – she’s been in Rwanda a long time and it isn’t necessarily going to be easy for her to walk into a new job even though Ontario is desperate for French teachers. Moreover, during the last year she’s been compiling a primary school curriculum and timetable, and has been doing frequent and effective training courses for teachers. This is all management stuff and I think she’s going to find mere classroom slogging far too constrained for her. She needs to get back into the Canadian system and then start seriously looking for management posts. It’s a classic case where VSO puts you into situations where you’ve got to show flexibility and pick up skills far beyond those you’ve brought with you from home. She’s skilled way beyond anything she could have achieved had she stayed comfortably in Toronto’s suburbia!

Cathie leaves and I rush out to buy provisions because we’re entertaining Polly tonight; it’s the last day we can have her round before she leaves for England. I get half my shopping done and the heavens open, so I rush back to the flat. Text Tom; he can get the rest on his way home.

Back at the flat there’s a couple of electricians. They want to get in to replace our electricity meter with a pay as you go job. Apparently, this should have been done last September when Tom moved in, but things move slowly in Rwanda. We think the SORAS office manager downstairs has only just twigged that he might be paying for our electricity as well as his. Tom hasn’t had a bill since he moved in!

The workmen leave and Tom arrives and we’re just getting into our stride, chopping up veg, when Geert comes. He’s very tired, but asks if I want to come with him and two others to the Akagera Game Park on Saturday. Do I want to come? And see the “big five”! Try stopping me. It’ll be expensive, of course, and means I’ll definitely need to get money wired out from home, but chances to see Akagera with a group don’t come that often.

It means my plans for the next few days are:
Fri – to Kigali for Capacity Building meeting, then stay in hotel overnight
Sat – pre-dawn departure for Akagera. Back mid evening, in time to go to Kersti’s party. Stay night with Nick (K’s fiancé)
Sun – mooch round Kigali a.m., then off to the refugee camp p.m.

And to think I could be at home, feet up on the sofa, fretting about which old film I want see watch on telly….. I wouldn’t swap this hectic African life for the world!

Polly arrives, Geert leaves, we manage to produce a meal that is quite special; then we boys flake out.

Best thing about today – absolutely everything. It’s been a great day.
Worst thing – nothing. Well, maybe that second in the middle of the earthquake when I’m sure I was airborne, not in contact with the mattress