Washed Out

 

It's been a weird couple of weeks. Full of bitty-ness.

We've seen a few serious deluges. Above is a picture Jo took during one of them. It's a good thing we all have tiled floors and not carpet.

Life after roachgeddon has been pleasant. I feel dreadful about it, but it is wonderful not to have to wash roach poop off my toothbrush in the mourning, or check under the toilet seat before peeing. They were apparently all hiding in my shower drain.

Funnily enough, I recently stumbled upon a poem by Robert W. Service called Death of a Cockroach, which sort of sums it up:

I opened wide the bath-room door,

And all at once switched on the light,

When moving swift across the floor

I saw a streak of ebon bright:

Then quick, with slipper in my hand,

Before it could escape, --I slammed.

I missed it once, I missed it twice,

But got it ere it gained its lair.

I fear my words were far from nice,

Though d----s with me are rather rare:

Then lo! I thought that dying roach

Regarded me with some reproach. 

Said I: "Don't think I grudge you breath;

I hate to spill your greenish gore,

But why did you invite your death

By straying on my bath-room floor?"

"It is because," said he (or she),

"Adventure is my destiny. 

"By evolution I was planned,

And marvellously made as you;

And I am led to understand

The selfsame God conceived us two:

Sire, though the coup de grâce you give,

Even a roach has right to live." 

Said I: "Of course you have a right,--

But not to blot my bath-room floor.

Yet though with slipper I may smite,

Your doom I morally deplore...

From cellar gloom to stellar space

Let bards and beetles have their place.

My appliances have brought extreme joy. My fridge came with an ice cube tray. It's big enough to fit all my food in, no more jigging things about. I bought a tub of ice-cream to celebrate.

The novelty of a washing machine is unlikely to wear off - ever.

Look at all that muck it gets out!

It has a little spin compartment, too. The clothes dry in half the time when I use it. This was my first load...

Aaah, fluffy towels.

Though one issue has come to light this week.

The season of water shortage is upon us. Despite all the rain, there are times when very little of it gets to our taps. Mud blocking the pipes or something. It does make washing clothes rather tricky.

I fill the machine up by hand because I can't stretch the water pipe to where the electricity is, but it's no hardship. I've also dispensed with the outlet bucket. I just let the pipe empty onto the floor, because it runs straight out the laundry room door into the drain - easy peasy.

I spent most of yesterday scrubbing out my water reserve bucket and spare jerrycans. Paul arrives in just under two weeks, and Maja not long after. I need to make sure there's enough in the cans for drinking and bathing. It's been a really long time since I had to plan for water shortages. I've been spoilt in Kacyiru. It's hard to remember a time, back in Kanombe, when I didn't have running water at all.

Bug picture...

I think this is a wasp. They build little dangley nests on the porch (and one in my house) and hang upside down for hours. They're very docile in comparison to British wasps, they keep their distance. Even the geckos leave them alone. This one died on my porch. A rare chance to get an up-close look.

Speaking of which, the geckos on my porch are getting rather large at the moment. That one's about the length of my hand. I have three, which I refer to as my babies. They keep me company in the evenings, gobbling up insects.

Like I say, it's been a weird couple of weeks. 

Nakumatt called up to apologise for the mop, which was nice of them.

I messed up my tax returns - again. I'm never going to get the hang of this online system. But this time I haven't been fined, I just had to go in to ask someone to change it.  

Realised I've missed my chance to vote in elections in the UK. Our scummy government introduced a measure whereby you have to register annually to vote. I've always been on the electoral register before, and I thought I still was, but turns out the letter I thought confirmed my registration to vote overseas was in fact yet another form. It's too late to get that sorted now. I think this was the Tory plan all along - if nobody's registered, nobody can vote them out of power. Bunch of wankers.

I took my mind off all this with a film-a-thon. Someone gave me the first three series of Suits, a programme my dad loves. I decided to see what the fuss was about. S1E1 soon became S3E16. I lost five days of my life watching them back to back. It's one of those programmes that doesn't require much thinking about. Hypnotically relaxing.

Made a new friend at Sole Luna. She loved me for as long as I kept feeding her my salmon gnocchi.

I was there meeting a creative writing client. An interesting ex-pat working for Rwanda Development Board, looking to expand his fiction skills. It was a nice night. He bought me dinner and a lot of beer. First outing there in a really long time.

The next day, LB left. He'd come back from Bukavu late the night before. That's a really long journey along very windy roads. I met him and his friend Alan at RZ Mana, the Korean bakery in Nyarutarama. I was seriously hung over and needed the sugar.

We bumped into my friend Sally, who had just spent the night at the top of Nyiragongo volcano, sleeping beside a lake of molten lava.

Coffee revived me, and we went to see Alan's mother-in-law, who lives in Kagugu. I could hardly believe it when we pulled up right behind where I used to live! 

When I very first arrived back in Rwanda, after Kenya, I moved into a house with Sally (who we'd just been talking to at the coffee shop). To unexpectedly end up back there was a bit weird. Kigali really is a village.

Alan's mother-in-law was lovely - and she likes cats.

We didn't stay long before heading to Valerie's house, where LB was keeping his stuff. We had a couple of hours to spare, just chatting, then we all went to the airport to see him off.

He's just bought some land in Kigali, and he's talking about moving back here. It would be nice to see more of him, but I suspect he'd be like me and the UK - happy for six months, then screaming to go home.

The completed toilet project in DRC which LB undertook.

Anyway, there's some other stuff going on, but I'll post about that another time. For now - food:

There is a saying here that if you eat a double banana like this, you'll have twins.

It's true. It happened to my friend Lies.

This week, I have mostly been cooking sweet potato curry. Roasted the veg in my pot oven, then mixed it up with ghee, cream, chili, garlic, fresh ginger, cumin and lots of other good stuff.

The green stuff is Amaranth. I've never seen it for sale as a vegetable in the UK. To my absolute astonishment, I've just discovered (thank you Wiki) that it is the plant Love-lies-bleeding. This amazes me because it grows prolifically in gardens in the UK, but no one ever told me you could eat it. It's just like spinach.

I steamed that at the same time I steamed my rice, with fresh lemon grass and rosemary.

Quite proud of that dish. Tastes good fresh as well as refried with egg the next day.

Sadly, today my kitchenware turned on me. I was busy scoffing passion fruit when I accidentally used my finger as a chopping board. Oops.