Saturday 24 June 2017

Grumpy Pants


Breakfast and a book. Slow recovery mode - not so much from a hangover, more from the past couple of weeks.  

 

Sophie is fully recovered. Only, I opened the door today and I'm now missing Howl. I suppose I have to accept that my kittens are of an age where they will wander off, stay out all night and turn up when they're hungry - I hope. 

In other news, I've just had my annual fine dished out by RRA. Every year I've said I'll understand the tax system, and every year I fail because it's incomprehensible to me. Only wanted to register as a sole trader, was told by RRA (the tax office) that this was impossible, so had to register a company, with a whole load of different taxes that nobody offered any guidance on (or, when they did, each person offered completely different guidance). Three years later, I discover that it was perfectly possible to be a sole trader all along. Going to close my company and switch over. Meanwhile, been involved in a battle of the tax issues with a large development agency who also didn't understand the tax system. It's a big thing here to claim that you have to withhold 15% payment from companies and consultants even when they're fully registered for tax - but you don't. I had to argue that one because 15% taken off a payment is a lot when it's unnecessary.

Three days arguing a contract for half a day's work.

Completely illustrating why I left development, but the pay's still tempting enough to return.

I have been saved by an absolutely incredibly accountancy firm: DP Singh. I should have hired someone three years ago, but I didn't think I could afford it. Would have cost a fraction of the fines. DP took pity on me. More than affordable. Free consultation, fielded all communication with RRA, explained everything in plain English, made it all go away. Got a lot of love for this company.

Piano project is busting my metaphorical balls. I've explained more on the piano blog. Now got five potential orders lined up, but trying to manufacture something like this is proving extremely tough. There just isn't the manufacturing infrastructure in Rwanda, so even casting a string frame to a high degree of accuracy is a really big (possibly impossible) task. We're nowhere near giving up yet, though. Apparently I've become known as the mythical 'piano lady.' Strangers greet me as 'so you're the piano lady?' Word is spreading, people are excited. There is a market for this.

It's been a while since I had a proper grumble, but the past couple of weeks it's just been one thing after another. Compounded by some sort of yuckiness. Thought I had malaria: pounding headache, nausea, dizziness - but no fever. Possibly dehydration. Worst was over in a couple of days, but felt drained all week. Much better now, but might go and get a blood test if I'm not feeling 100% by next week.

Still. On the upside:

Tax finally sorted. DP Singh, heroes of the day and saviour to many a confused CEO.

Had a lot of fun at CasaKeza last night. The Spanish festival of San Juan (Saint Joan/Midsummer). Cocktails and salsa after my writing group.



Maia (left) is leaving for a couple of months. Her stand-in manager just fell through, so I'm going to be acting hostess in her absence. Leaving me in charge of a bar? Not sure about that one. Honestly, though, I don't have to do much, the staff have it down. Just need to dish out pay cheques and make sure nothing goes crazy.

Also, my favourite priest is flying in tonight. Haven't seen him since I was in the UK, a year and a half ago. He's only passing through quickly en route to Goma, but I'll catch up with him when he gets back. He always makes me laugh, and I'm looking forward to catching up on gossip from the UK.

Also got family visiting later in the year. My cousin Tamsin is travelling around Africa with her partner and should be landing in Kigali around August. Every year we have a huge family gathering of the Burbidge clan (mum's side), but it's so big that there's a large portion of the family I don't really know. We saw each other once a year, but that's about it. Looking forward to getting to know each other properly over a few drinks.

Oh, and huge fun thing of the year - just booked tickets to India to see the Taj Mahal with dad and Marilyn, thanks to Rwandair's new direct flights.

So, a rough patch, but hopefully better things to follow. Feeling the stress lift, deep breaths, watch out for buses.


Tuesday 13 June 2017

Sophie Loaf



Rather a traumatic couple of days. Opened the door yesterday morning and only two kittens rolled in. It's unusual, but sometimes one is a few minutes late for breakfast. But the hours went by and there was no sign of Sophie. 

I expected the worst, she's the most homey of the three. Printed a 'missing' flyer and canvased the neighbours up and down the street. The guards promised to keep an eye out, and I put up a poster at a local restaurant. I thought she had probably been hit by a car, but she wasn't in the drains or bushes. 

Opened the door this morning to find all three kittens.

Sophie came home, but she's looking the worse for her adventures. One eye is badly swollen, she seems to be in a bit of pain, her head shakes sometimes and her back claws are broken. Completely mystified what happened to her, but very glad to have her back.

She's eating, drinking and purring, though not as cuddly as usual. I'm going to bathe her eye and keep her in tonight. Maybe call the vet if there's any complications.

They are such rambunctious creatures of doom, it's only when something like this happens that you realise how small and fragile they are. 

This is precisely why I didn't want cats - it's horrible waiting for something to happen.

Anyway, I'll keep a close eye on her.

These pictures were taken a few days ago. Sophie, Howl and Sen playing with my new laundry basket.



In other news, found an - unfortunately dead - strange caterpillar with a tail.

 



Howl discovered he likes Marmite. Apparently, some big cats do too.


My friend's daughter, Leah, decided she wanted to live upside down in a tree.


I decided to watch a little of the UK election. When I looked up it was 5 a.m. and the sun was rising!



Finally made it to bed at 7 a.m., feeling extremely satisfied. It was a fantastic Labour gain. As one reporter put it, many of the Labour MPs who had been so critical of Corbyn now owed their seats to him. Good to finally have a strong opposition.

Summed up nicely by John Oliver (if you have trouble viewing, try browsing from the US).



Cats not so interested in elections...


Today has been a busy day. Went to check out our new piano frame with Désiré. Unfortunately, it's not quite up to scratch. Alex didn't have everything he needed to make the best replica. He's going to try again. In the meantime, Désiré suggested we check out Chillington, which is an industrial foundry down a maze of dirt roads not far from Alex's place. We drove through the dust in near 30c heat and it made me smile to see parts of Kigali I didn't know. We were really impressed by Chillington, so we're going to drop off the frame for a quote. 


Quite a bit going on at the moment, trying to keep on top of it all. Could definitely do without any more cats getting lost or beaten up. Very hard to concentrate with a missing kitten, even now they are technically cats. I shall leave you with a picture from last Friday's rock night. As a friend posted: 'Punk isn't dead. It just goes to bed at a more reasonable hour.'

Saturday 3 June 2017

The Great Zucchini Theft




Well, the blurgh's over for now. Got up early (for me) yesterday and went and got myself an absolutely lovely accountant. I hand over all of my papers and passwords, and I don't have to think about accounting again until he works out what's been going on and sends me the bill. He seems like a lovely chap, didn't charge me a penny for the hour-long consultation and says rates are based on income, and as that's very small, so shall be the bill. Fingers crossed. Very happy with the service so far and, if this turns out well, I'll be paying whatever fine I owe, closing the company, switching to a sole trader (which is what I wanted to be in the first place) and hiring this guy for the piano company.

Speaking of which, a third person asked to buy a piano the other day. 

There is definitely something to hiring someone to do your worrying for you.

From next week I'm completely focused on resuming writing and getting the piano made.

Treated myself to a lovely breakfast at Inzora on the way home from the accountant's. They really do a yummy rooftop spread with a stunning view of the city.



Had a good night teaching fiction in the dark at CasaKeza. There was a long power cut, so we all gathered outside with candles. Very atmospheric and scribely. Then stayed on for a drink with Maia and ended up in fits of giggles over toilet humour. Exactly what I needed.

Completely back to my bouncy self, until disaster struck.

It involved these bastards:




Facebook post this morning:


I have been overwhelmed by sympathy from friends and family. I did not know such love existed. One friend has even started the campaign #PrayforMarion - but please, I don't want anyone to give up their precious time on my behalf. I'd rather you just send money.

It was such a senseless attack. The damage was indescribable.

De-foiled in Full View

I'm not talking to my cats anymore, but I'm not sure that's much of a punishment, as they ignored me when I did.

Anyway. I'm just taking it one day at a time. The emptiness inside will eventually heal (I'm thinking of ordering take-out tonight) and the next rock night has been announced for Friday. Few of my writers want to go, so it'll be a lot of fun. Trying to plan what to wear. I've ordered corsets, but I don't think they'll get here in time, so skulls and lace it is. 

On with the show...

Thursday 1 June 2017

Blurgh Continuation


What's in the box kitties?

Rescued this not-so little chap from the cats the other day. I was so sure it was dead, but five minutes in the sun and it turned a beautiful shade of green and scuttled off to find lunch - instead of being lunch.

 

I love my cats. They can look very beautiful, but I hate the fact they kill lizards and bite the tails off geckos. I've got loads of geckos in my house, regrowing their tails. It's horrible to find a tail in your shoe, still wiggling.

Creature of Doom and Destruction

They do help keep the cockroaches at bay, though. I'm having an unpleasant time at the moment for a number of reasons, one of which is dealing with a roach infestation. I've had to fumigate my bookshelf, bathroom and kitchen. I swear the buggers are becoming Doom resistant. Think I'm almost on top of it now. Just need to spray my printer. Seriously. It prints roach poop.

Also, what the feck is this?

It appears to be a grasshopper with the head of a shrimp. It's about as long as my little finger.



Still, better than my friend Maia, whose daughter had a scorpion on her head the other day. I saw a dead one in a village once, but haven't seen a live one here yet. 

Other reasons I'm not so happy at the moment... well, still shaking that cold. It's been a stinker. I only felt really rough for about three or four days, but my ears are full of cotton wool and my nose has that stubborn snot that is more annoying than anything. I just feel a bit glum and lethargic. Been treating myself to take out because I can't be bothered to shop. Just inhaled a bag of sweet fried chicken from the Chinese and now feel twice as lethargic. 

My friend Sameer bought me lunch the other day. We met at rock night. He works on the tea plantations up in Gisenyi. Comes from Assam originally and grew up with tea. He brought me freshly packaged tea, just picked. I didn't realise, but Yorkshire Tea is mostly Rwandan tea.

Tea, Fresh from the Hills

What else has been getting me down? Well, here's one I haven't complained about in a while - RRA, the tax department. After three years, I thought I'd cracked it. Paid my corporation tax without a hitch all last year... then submitted my annual return and got slapped with a massive tax bill for eight times the profit I declared, plus a huge fine. I have fuck all idea what that's about. 

Business tax in Rwanda has reduced me to tears several times over the past few years. Every time I think I have a handle, crap happens. It's so incredibly easy to start a business here, but figuring out the tax system is like trying to do a Rubik's cube blindfolded in an alligator swamp. Trying to get a response from anyone at the tax department is blood from a stone. 

I can't keep doing this, I'll run out of money. So, I've booked an appointment with an accounting firm tomorrow. I should have done this from the very beginning, but idiot me thought, Hey, I have a master's degree and a rudimentary grasp on arithmetic. I've filed my own tax returns for years - how hard can this be?  And this is where over confidence gets you - broke.

I should have called it quits when I went to deregister for VAT and they accidentally deregistered my entire company. I should just have said, Yeah, actually, that's fine. Leave it.

I plan to find out exactly what this latest shenanigans is all about, because it seems a little ridiculous. If it can't be fixed, my plan is to pay it off, close this business, register as a sole trader for consultancy work, then, if the piano business takes off, go into business with Désiré and hire a proper accountant. 

I'm sure that'll be another conversation starter with Immigration, but I'll still be doing the job I got my visa to do, and I'll be doing a second job which nobody else in Rwanda is doing, and hopefully employing more people. The terms of my visa do say I can switch trade - it's an 'entrepreneure visa,' and you can't get much more entrepreneurial than building pianos.

Speaking of which - the one bit of good news this week: Alex is hopefully casting the first string frame any day now! I am super excited. This is a major part of the whole project. It weighed in at 70 kg (11 st), well within the forge's capacity. Weirdly, that might not have been the most heavy part of the piano. The backboard weighs about the same, if not more.

Backboard
I popped down to the workshop the other day and Alex's team were busy forming the mould for the molten metal. 



He's going to give me a shout once they're ready to go and I'll head over to film it. We did have a guy from the local paper get in contact, but never heard from him again. Guess he'll turn up when we have a full piano to show.

Sadly, another unpleasant thing happened that day. I'd just pulled up on a moto at Alex's workshop. There's a low wall next to it and I heard a clatter and the moto driver stood up in his seat. I didn't know what had happened until I started heading down the path, past the wall. I chanced to see a man lying on the other side of it. I was two seconds away from walking on. People sometimes fall asleep by the side of the road. But I remembered the sound and turned back.

I've just finished reading A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James. When I don't understand something in a book, I go and look it up. Tonight, I just looked up Kitty Genovese. The bit at the end, under Psychological Research - that's what it was like. There were maybe five or six of us standing around just looking at him. It was only for a moment, but I remember looking up to the guys on the balcony, who were looking down. I looked to the woman in the doorway, who was looking out. No one moved. 

I wanted to walk away, thinking someone else would know what to do. I've been in situations like this before, and you never feel more aware of your skin colour or your gender. I've had instances where my whiteness and inability to speak Kinya terrified an injured child more than I helped him, and led to a lot of laughter from bystanders. I've also had an experience where my whiteness, confidence and camera stopped a man beating another man in the street - at least until I left. And many years ago I went to help a guy in the street who seemed incapacitated, who suddenly found his legs and started towards me at speed. Thankfully, I was alert enough to keep my distance and he was too drunk to hit a straight line.

All this shit goes through your head and tells you to stay where you are, but I didn't. 

The poor man was lying on the floor, on top of his shoulder-height walking cane, a white bag clutched in one fist. He was mumbling but nothing I could make out, so I asked in Kinya if he needed help. I didn't understand the reply, but seeing my pitiful attempt at communication, a couple more passers by came and helped him to his feet. A couple of people stuffed 1,000 (£1) bills into his shirt. One young guy was patient and helped explain to me that the man was trying to get home but that he came from very far away. I asked how far, expecting them to say Musanze, or a village out of town. Turns out he was only trying to get to Nyabugogo. 

Kind of puts things into perspective. It's less than fifteen minutes by moto, but I guess if you're walking it's going to take you a couple of hours. When you're inching forward on a cane like he was, maybe most of the day.

Then I saw his arm and I had to turn away to hide my expression. He'd skinned himself all the way up his elbow. I didn't even know it was possible to injure yourself so badly just by falling down. A great big, bloody mess.

Then you've got that whole big question. 

Do you leave him in the care of Kinya speakers and go to your meeting, or do you do what you want to do at the risk of fulfilling every stereotype? 

The guy interpreting said the man could get a moto with the money they'd given him. 

"He can't get a moto," I said. "Look at him."

He could hardly stand up, clutching to his cane and wobbling about. I'm not sure if it was DTs or MS, but falling over your own feet is one thing, falling off the back of a motorbike is quite another. Yes, maybe in that strange Rwandan way in which people can do the hardest things because they don't have another option, he might have made it. But I persuaded them to hail a taxi by saying I'd pay for it - and the hospital treatment. A grand total of ten quid well spent, but excruciatingly mzungu. A couple of people whistled when I slip the cash, as though they'd been taking bets on whether I'd do it.

I also found a wad of clean tissue in my bag and offered it - immediately wishing I hadn't. A guy started rubbing the man's elbow with all the delicacy of a brillo pad, then pinched the large flap of hanging skin and yanked it off. I felt faint, but the man didn't even flinch. It was as though he didn't feel it, but he must have done - blood everywhere. 

I went off to my meeting once he was safely in the taxi. He gave his number to the guy I was with, who he was going to call to say he got to the clinic okay. I really felt that article about Kitty Genovese, though. I was once attacked late at night and when I tried to stop someone in the street for help - a jogger - he couldn't get away fast enough, just ran off. 

Despite that, I do feel the 'don't want to get involved' pangs, too. And I think it's right what the article says. If there are other people standing around watching, it's harder to step forward than if you were on your own. Unless you're with friends, maybe. I've intervened quicker in situations with friends or on my own than I have surrounded by strangers. I tend to hang back and observe, especially if it's a man (which is ironic, because I was attacked by a woman). But at a certain point, you have to go and ask. Yeah, it might be a lovers' tiff, a minor tumble or whatever, but there is only one way to find out for sure.

The thought that goes through my mind is What if that was me? Not very altruistic, I suppose, but does it need to be if it gets you moving? If that was me, and I was hurt, and I didn't have the money for a cab to get home, wouldn't it change my world - or at least the course of my day - for someone to put me back on my feet, ask my name and get me home? 

Obviously the world doesn't owe you anything for that. Maybe they'll never pass it forward, maybe there will come a time when you need help and no one turns up. But just for that day, it makes someone's life a little better. But I did come so very close to walking past without stopping. And I did feel so aware of being watched that I almost didn't offer the cab. If I hadn't, I think I would be thinking about that man an awful lot more than I do now. If you don't do what you can, it follows you around.

Anyway. I'm satisfied with how I reacted, and because of that, I have way more space in my rested conscience to contemplate my fecking tax situation.

I'm determined not to get caught up on it this time. It panicked me so much before, I even burst into tears at tax HQ. I'm as determined to sort out my crappy tax situation as I am to build pianos at the moment, so I reckon there's a fair chance I'll get over it quickly. (Seriously though, how can your tax come to ten times more than your declared profit for the year?).

Time for a lie down. What a pretty rhino-skin sky.

Oh, and the live streaming of the new South Park episodes on internet trolling and virtual reality - soothing balm to my torment. Wonderful to see it going strong, thankfully something to laugh at.