Saturday 17 March 2018

March Stuff


Apparently, when we took the bus up to Gisenyi to start our Idjwi trip, we were very lucky. Jo's friend was driving up about an hour behind us and got stuck for ages after a lorry overturned. I'm not sure if she actually made it in the end or had to turn back.

In other driving news, my dad sent me a picture of my car, Kitty, under a foot of snow. Apparently the UK has been devoured by the Beast from the East as it's been dubbed, and set for further snow this weekend. If you'd like to read more, check out my dad's blog.

Quite a contrast. It's the rainy season here and we've been experiencing some incredible thunder storms. It's usually sunny until about three or four in the afternoon, then the sky turns black and the rain comes down in torrents. Sixteen people were killed when lightning struck a church recently.


Kagame has just closed 700 churches across the country. Some reports say it's for failing to abide by safety regulations, others say it's for pressuring poor congregations to hand over large donations. I saw this in the newspaper in my accountant's waiting room the other day.


I have to admit, it made me smile. There was another cartoon inside with a pastor telling  his congregation: "Don't worry. The government have closed down the churches, but they haven't shut down mobile money, so you can still send us your donations."

This was swiftly followed by a ban on mosques using loudspeakers. Certain areas of town, like Nyamirambo, have quite a few mosques, and when the first call to prayer starts around 5 a.m. you really understand why it's a popular move.

I just desperately wish the government would take similar steps with bars and nightclubs. There's one across the valley from us that starts around midnight or 1 a.m. and goes on until three, four, sometimes five in the morning on a Friday and Saturday. We've spoken to the police but they haven't done anything. I'm taking it to the head of umudugadu later this week to try to get her support. It really seems like there's a disparity between noise pollution from religious organisations, which is dealt with swiftly, and noise pollution from bars. It took us four months to get anything done about a bar that opened in a residential house next door, and even they held an event last week without a license.

Anyway. Other goings on at the moment...

Went to Jo's birthday and ate lots of pizza.


Went to Harris's apartment above CasaKeza for handmade pasta rolled by our friend Chris from Kenya. She was staying at my place, then moved to CasaKeza, has now gone to Nairobi, but will be back soon. She works as an engineer, selling equipment across the EA region. Really interesting to talk to.


Using bread sticks as chopsticks.
Maia's been developing a new weekly lunch menu, with a different set list every day, beginning with Moroccan Monday. I spent every lunch there last week getting a free feeding.

Caramelised Pineapple

Spicy Pumpkin Soup
Stuffed potato pancakes, inspired by our trip to Bunyonyi.

Cheesecake. Not on the free menu, but too good to resist.

It's been a very well-fed couple of weeks. Got roped into going to a children's party with Maia, Jo and Cindy. Not being a parent, I didn't realise that the point of children's parties was for the adults to guzzle good wine and eat birthday cake. Very much like adult birthday parties, only with more screaming in the background. It was a lovely night, and being a Chinese birthday girl we lit a lantern and watched it float off across Kigali. It was at a nice venue down the road from us, with a large garden, bouncy castle, and giant fish tank.

 
Miniature model of plans for an apartment complex next to the lake
with the creepy abandoned fairground.


Then Maia and I dropped Taia home with the nanny and headed out to The Hut. It's a bit pricey, but absolutely worth it. We had a bacon and jackfruit starter - a surprisingly good combination.


Sadly, we said goodbye to Harris, our doctor friend who is here doing a PhD. He's left for a couple of months to see family. I went to the cinema with him to see Black Panther the other week. It was my first ever time at the cinema in Kigali. It's a proper big screen experience with popcorn and everything, and our showing was in 3D. We got caught by the rain on the way home. Our motos pulled onto opposite sides of the street for shelter, and a few minutes later I realised there was a bar on the corner between us, so we ran to that and sat drinking until it eased enough to walk home.We gave him a good send-off at CasaKeza though, plenty of alcohol.

Calm, official photo.
Reality shot.
Maia will also be leaving in four weeks, so I guess I'm going to have to grow a social life and make some new friends.

Talking of (furry) friends, Gizmo is growing fast. He got his own vaccination book the other day, so he's now officially a member of the family.



He's developed a total bromance with Howl. The two are near inseparable.


Unfortunately, we have had some bad news. Howl's sister, Sen, the one who was poisoned when she was little, has developed chronic asthma. Something I didn't realise cats could get. Unfortunately, it looks like this is going to be a lifelong condition, requiring constant medication. We had a very difficult couple of days where I thought I was going to lose her at one point. Ended up creating a makeshift spacer from my own Ventolin inhaler and a paper bag (they never taught me that on Blue Peter). Managed to get her through it and she's now on a regular dose of corticosteroids. I've also had training from the vet on how to administer emergency dexamethason injections, and have three on standby if we ever need them. She's doing really well at the moment, though. Just makes things slightly more complicated if I ever want to go away because I'll need to find someone who can not only feed the cats but give the medicine, too. It's tricky as I have three cats that look practically identical. I have accidentally medicated the wrong cat myself once.



Not the only medical emergency lately. Went to a friend's birthday party the other night. It was really lovely. She's Dutch and the theme of the party was hygge. Instead of dressing up, we dressed down - lots of knitted jumpers and candles.  


I left around half-ten with Maia and her friend Ismail. He was going to give us a lift home as he had a car and lives next door to us. Only, as we left the house, he noticed a woman outside with a couple of the house guards. She was crying.

As we went to see if she was all right, we noticed she had blood pouring from her ear and all down her top. Ismail asked the guards what happened, and it turned out she'd been the victim of a moto mugging, where people drive by on motorbikes and snatch bags. As they yanked her bag away, she fell and hit her head hard on the cobbled road.

We bundled her into the car and did a mad dash to A&E at King Faisal Hospital, which is the biggest hospital in Kigali. We were a bit surprised to discover we were the only ones there. They rushed her into a room and we sat outside whilst nurses went in and out for the next half-hour. 

The reason we were the only ones there soon became apparent. Rwanda has a national medical insurance policy called mutuelle de sante. It's quite affordable, and everyone is supposed to carry it. Only, King Faisal doesn't accept it. So, she's there, bleeding from her head and vomiting, and they won't run a head scan until we pay them.

Word to those in the UK: the NHS is the most precious thing we have. Imaging that's your mother, or your child, or your partner rushed into hospital and they don't get treated until you flash your cash. Imagine they do get treated, and it's serious, and you wind up thousands of pounds in debt. Anyone who thinks the NHS should be scrapped is a fucking moron. You have no idea what you're losing.

Anyway, we pooled together to pay for the scan, the doctors and some painkillers, then waited around until her friend arrived. Thankfully, even private treatment in Rwanda is very cheap by western standards, as I proved when I had three months of intensive private treatment on my burnt hand and only paid around £500. The alternative for this lady was getting transferred to a hospital across town which did accept mutuelle de sante, and having to wait hours to be seen.

It was interesting that she called her colleague from work, rather than a relative. Perhaps she didn't want to worry her parents, perhaps they lived out of town, or perhaps, being twenty-seven in Rwanda, she didn't have any family. 

Anyway, we got the contact of the doctor, who told us that she was fine. The blood was from a cut, nothing more serious. She was discharged the next day and called up to thank us. Really glad she was okay, because she seriously didn't look it when we arrived at the hospital.

Unfortunately, the next day I got a text from Maia. She was back at King Faisal as her daughter had come down with malaria. We think she probably contracted it in Idjwi, as she got bitten quite a lot. She's on the mend now. It clears up quickly once you take Coartem, but still not pleasant. The rest of us aren't showing symptoms, so with any luck we won't.

In non-medically-related news, things are going well with the piano. Popped in to tune this Kawai again last week. I'm getting much faster with practise. It used to take me around four hours, now it's about two and a half. Though a lot of these notes were still in tune from last time.


I won't go into too much detail, because I blog about the pianos elsewhere, but we've had a lot of publicity recently. A big article came out about it in international press, and Rwanda's largest Kinyarwanda online news outlet came to do an interview. I thought it was just going to be a written interview, but they turned up with cameras, which was a little unfortunate as it was an extremely hot day, just before a major downpour, and I was a bit sweaty and flustered. But it's been good. We've already had someone ask us to go check out their broken piano next week and see if we can fix it. We now have all the strings we need for our own paino, and hope to star stringing in the next couple of weeks.



Désiré also designed, and had his team build, this lovely bamboo fence so that I have some privacy on my apartment porch. I'm house-sharing at the moment with a girl doing an internship with GIZ and another working for the centre for disease control. They're really lovely, but it's nice to be able to sit outside and work without being disturbed. 



Souvenir from Akagera.

Writing has also been going really well. I'm halfway through ghostwriting the memoir of a local businessperson and it's progressing nicely. It's something I'm actually really enjoying doing. There's just enough structure to make it fairly straightforward, and the person has lived such an interesting life that it's really fun putting it to paper. 

Another book which I helped edit just had its book launch at Kigali Convention Centre.



It was my first time going inside, although I did take a tour when it was being built. It's a bit of an odd atmosphere. It's rumoured to be the most expensive building in Africa, and it looks good, especially at night when it's all lit up, but for a major conference venue, it's remarkably hard to get into on foot and rather intimidating. I got dropped off at what looked like the main entrance, to be told it was actually not, then had to walk all the way around the perimeter to another entrance, down a road which was completely blocked off, with five extremely heavily armed, serious-looking policemen who made me cross the road. Not only can't you drive past it, you can't even walk past it. Had to stop and ask directions three times before eventually finding my way into the main foyer - and got charged FRW 11,500 (about £10/$13) for a G&T, which is insane money.

The event itself was excellent. It was really fantastic to see so many people brave a ferocious thunderstorm to come and support the book, and absolutely dispelled the myth that 'Rwandans don't read'.



 

My Name is Life is all about Karen's struggle for diagnosis and treatment as a cancer patient in Rwanda. It was really interesting to see the characters from the book appear in person, especially her grandmother who plays a big role. 

I've also scored another editing gig with an e-learning NGO, to edit their newsletter and learning materials. Apparently I'm 'super' and 'worth the money,' which is always nice to hear. It's a really good thing I derive such satisfaction from pulling people's grammar apart. Please don't take this blog as an example, it's impossible to edit your own work!

So, I'm feeling quite content at the moment. Between writing, editing and pianos, I have enough to keep me busy. Harris will be back in a couple of months, and CasaKeza will always be there when I need a beer, if a little quiet without Maia. Victor's promised to teach me how to make cocktails, so if I do that once a week, I'm sure I'll meet people in no time.


Thursday 1 March 2018

Idjwi


Yay me! I'm 37.

Was planning just to have a very quiet night in, but my friend lured me down to her restaurant for a 'quick drink'. Like a trusting lamb, I followed her - all the way across the garden. Then a group of friends jumped out of the cocktail cart shouting 'surprise' and proceeded to feed me cake and caipirinha.

Lovely night. Ended up drunkenly reading tarot cards and dancing to Iron Maiden.

I'm always astonished that I've managed to live this long.

A couple of days later, Maia, myself, and her six-year-old daughter decided to go on a little road trip. We were originally planning a weekend away with a couple of other friends, but they fell by the wayside for one reason or another. Looking back, that's not such a bad thing. Our little road trip turned into a monster expedition.

Originally, we were just planning on hopping a boat over to Idjwi, which is an island between Rwanda and the DRC, technically belonging to DRC. There's all sorts of ancient myths about the place. A colleague once swore she'd met a one-armed pirate from Lake Kivu, and it's traditionally known as the island that Rwandan families would row their unwed pregnant daughters out to. They'd tip them overboard, they'd swim to shore, and the Congolese men living on the island would wander down to the beach to pick up a ready-made family.

Anyway, with stories like that, we really wanted to go and take a look at the place.

As Rwandan residents, we can cross into Eastern DRC on a CEPGL, which is a piece of paper you get for around $10, rather than the $150 for a tourist visa. I think you need a full visa to travel further into DRC, but the border region is fine.


We were a little nervous as there have been a couple of incidents recently. It started with Rwandan soldiers reportedly shooting six Congolese soldiers along the border, then a mass protest over food cuts at Kiziba refugee camp, which saw Rwanda respond by shooting eleven Congolese refugees. All reports indicated that the border was still safe for civilians though, so we decided to go ahead.

The journey began with a three-hour bus ride up to Gisenyi, on the northern border with DRC. We left around mid-day to get there in time for dinner with our friend Jo.

Road Snack

Jo runs Rwandan Adventures, a cycling business along the Congo Nile Trail. She took us to a hotel with an incredible swimming pool overlooking Lake Kivu, then on to a beach bar for Indian. Lake Kivu is a funny place. As well as being one of the world's three exploding lakes, it's so large it appears to have a tide. Waves lap against the sand and it's easy to pretend you're at the seaside.

Jo's Bikes
View from Rwandan Adventures
Nirvana Hotel


Building Sea Defences

We stayed in a hotel in Gisenyi and got up at 5 a.m. the next morning to cross the border into Congo at 6. Our ferry to Idjwi was leaving at 7:30 and we wanted to leave enough time to clear Immigration. It's a good thing we did as there was a long queue on the Rwandan side. Thankfully it was moving, but as we stood in the middle of the queue, a massive commotion kicked off. A line of about twenty men came charging into the hall and physically pushed the people in the first line out of place. It was queue-jumping on a massive scale and there were no security guards to bat an eyelid. It's a good thing we hadn't been standing in that line with a small child.

We made it across the border and took a taxi to our ferry, Kivu Princess. Maia had thankfully booked our tickets in advance, because they were all sold out when we got there. Happily, there was a café on the dock and the waiter came to serve us coffee and sandwiches before we set sail.

.


The no guns sign is to indicate there aren't any
guns on board, in case of attack. The idea is to stop people
who do have guns from using them.

Ferry bound for Bukavu.




Overtaking the Bukavu Ferry







We came in to land in Bugarula Bay in North Idjwi, and booked into Hope Land Hotel, which is right on the waterfront.













There were a couple of local traders selling sambaza and oranges. When the ferry comes in, they row out to greet it and sell food to the passengers.




It was still really early by the time we arrived, so we had a little nap and then set out to find the local market. We had been told it was about ten minutes by moto, but we decided to walk. As one guy explained 'Here on Idjwi, we have very few politicians,' so it's a safe place to wander around.







We even met the local police chief, and a school boy who was willing to show us the shortcut across the hill. Even with the shortcut, it was a long trek, we were probably walking for close to three hours, but we really got to see the island.




We eventually made it to the market, which was very busy. We had a little wander around, then found what we thought might be a bar, but the owner swiftly shepherded us away to a secluded section overlooking the lake. I think it might actually have been a brothel. We took Fanta refreshment, then went back to buy sugarcane, pineapple and a bag of sambaza, which are tiny fish that you fry, a bit like Devilled Whitebait. The gas levels in the lake mean that tilapia don't grow big there and are mostly imported from Uganda.




Sugarcane.



I'm somewhere in this crowd, trying to buy sugarcane.


Stopping for a Fanta.


Our Dinner


We took a moto back to the hotel and hung out playing with their adorable puppies.




Pineapple and Sugarcane

As the sun set, we headed down to the restaurant, where the cook had prepared our sambaza with sweet potato chips.

The next day, we decided to take a two-hour moto ride from the north of the island to the south.

 


(panoramic, click to enlarge)

Where we came from.

Where we're going.

A sunken ship which marks the border between North Idjwi and South Idjwi.


Stopping to stretch our legs.




(panoramic, click to enlarge)

We booked into Congomani, which our friend Manu recommended. Hotels on Idjwi are fairly basic. Electricity is often only on at certain times, when the generator is working, running water is a luxury and hot water comes in a bucket, which you get outside your door in the morning for washing. this is when I realised that buying a battery pack for my phone is only useful if you remember to charge that battery pack before leaving home.

TV for decoration.


They fed us incredibly well at Congomani: pineapple, avocado, omelette, oranges, rice, potatoes - we were stuffed by the time we left.

We had just planned to go and have a look at Idjwi, but neither of us had ever seen Bukavu, and we decided we were curious enough to go. As we were headed to mainland DRC anyway, Maia suggested we might as well stop off at Lwiro Chimpanzee Sanctuary on the way, as it's run by a friend of hers.

Crossing to the mainland was another moment for consideration as we're talking about the Kivu region, and North and South Kivu are pretty much a rebel-held war zone. But the advice was that the chimp sanctuary is along a safe corridor and tourists can go in confidence. So, we did.

We hired a private pirogue with the very last of out money (there's absolutely nowhere to withdraw cash on the island) and headed over to Katana. We spent about twenty minutes floating round in circles on the lake when the boat developed a fuel problem, but our captain sucked out the line and fixed it. When we arrived, Maia's friend had sent a taxi to take us up to Institut Conglais de Conservation de Nature.










We had a wander around the institute, guided by a very lovely dog, whilst we waited for Lorena to introduce us to the chimps. This is about the time the battery on my phone died, so we don't have many pictures. It's an incredibly old school Belgian colonial building.

Looking at tadpoles in the fountain.



We saw all kinds of incredible monkeys, rescued from all over Congo and further afield. You have to wear masks to prevent catching or spreading diseases between species. I had a moment of mild panic as we passed an enclosure for adult chimps, which can grow to over a meter in height. One was quite aggressive, throwing sticks at the wire - they were giant lumps of muscle. Fully-grown chimps are absolutely terrifying. Much prefer the babies.

From Lwiro, we headed by taxi an hour south to Bukavu and booked into Kivu Best. The roads in Congo are serious. Cars fall into potholes on one side and have to crawl out the other. Even a short journey feels long, and it's quite possible to get seasick on dry land. The contrast between Rwanda, where everything's tarmaced and clean, and eastern DRC, where nothing is, immediately strikes you.

There's a curfew in Bukavu, but we ventured out before dark to look for a place to eat. After sitting in the depressing side room of a supermarket with plastic chairs and no waiters, we noticed a sign on the busy street saying L'acacia Restaurant. It was pointing down a steep set of narrow steps, and we decided to follow it. Turned out to be the best restaurant ever. It opened out onto a stunning view of the lake, with an extremely attentive waiter. We stuffed ourselves on pork and chicken, washed down with beer. Exactly what was needed after a marathon adventure.

Entering Bukavu







Something else that's really striking about the DRC is the two-story houses. Most houses in Rwanda are bungalows, but in the DRC you get a lot of residential houses with more than one story, and lots of unique details like carved window casings, even on Idjwi. Everything is much less uniform, and artistic in a ramshackle sort of way.

the next morning we woke up leisurely in big, soft beds, had a hot shower and a yummy breakfast, then crossed the border to Cyangugu and boarded a seven-hour bus back to Kigali. I'd done that journey once before, back in 2008, and hoped never to do it again. The road turns serpent and it's hard for even hardened travellers to keep their food down. But the road straightens out at Butare, after Nyungwe Forest. We made it back around 8 p.m., fell into a taxi and then bed.
View from our hotel room.