First Week Back

Gloucester Folk Museum

Right, time to begin the catch-up I suppose :)

Dad and I had been planning my return trip for about three months before Mum’s Birthday. I used the Socor travel agency in Kigali, up near KBC bank. On the whole they were pretty helpful, although, when I finally went to buy my ticket, I did feel somewhat invisible as everyone in the room carried on their conversations as if I wasn’t there. They focused on office gossip rather than on the customer and then they lost my phone and e-mail address so sent my e-ticket to Martine because we’d been booking our flights together and they remembered her contact details.

I had no idea what happened to my tickets as Martine had limited internet access, so she didn't forward them instantly. I ended up having to go all the way back to their office to sit there with my laptop whilst they re-mailed it to me from the other side of the room. Bit of a pain in the arse, and completely defeated the object of e-tickets saving time over printed tickets, but, essentially, the details were right. Although the price had gone up considerably in the two weeks between my first quote and actually buying the tickets, I was starting to get excited.

The weeks flew by and I got a taxi from town to come and collect me at around 4pm on Saturday 18th July. He stopped to refuel at Gikondo garage and I feared I might die before reaching the airport: chatting away on his mobile and idling his engine whilst the tank was being filled! The gods of health and safety were on holiday themselves that day ;)

But, we got there, and I started smoosing in duty free. I met a woman from Capacitar International who works with trauma victims and knows Father Murenzi and the Komera Centre, and another lady who is a haematologist and trains people how to use specialist blood testing equipment at the hospital – she even trained Pierre. I sat next to her on the plane and we spent most of the journey chatting about life, the world, and everything.

[NB 2013: She also taught me that the fastest possible bleed-out occurs in alcoholics. An aortic aneurysm or something similar. Fascinating stuff.]

I got to Kigali airport just as the sun was starting to go down, and treated myself to a large glass of Amarula Cream whilst watching it from the comfort of the big leather sofas. I couldn’t really imagine what I was going back to because it’d been so long, but I enjoyed watching the people and the traffic going past: a lasting image of the place I was leaving behind.

The flight was pretty uneventful: Kigali to Brussels via Entebbe, then a quick 20-minute hop over to Heathrow.

I was horribly underwhelmed by Brussels Airlines, though. The food was congealing and, in this day and age, having tiny monitors down the central isle on a long-haul eight-hour flight is just not on. Kenya had personal entertainment systems and the food was much better. Kenya Airways, in my not-so-humble opinion, earned their slogan: “The pride of Africa” (for their safety record if nothing else) but I would have expected much more from a major European provider. Their staff could at least have cracked a smile instead of the glum back-of-a-bus expressions they touted.

When we touched-down in Brussels, I saw rain for the first time in two months. It was a wonderful sight, but one that sadly lost its novelty value over the coming weeks.

On the hop-over flight to Heathrow some guy had sat in my window seat. Usually, I wouldn’t make a fuss over such things, but it was my first time home in almost two years - damn right I was pushing him to the isle. I sat with my nose pressed up against the glass as we did a spectacular descent over central London: Canary Wharf, that giant pine cone thingy, the Mayor’s Office, Tower Bridge, and all the way down across Kew Gardens – it was spectacular.

Dad and Marilyn were waiting for me on the other side of customs with a banner and balloons. They bundled me into the car and took me for a full English breakfast at Reading Services (glam, eh?). It tasted divine, but the first thing that blew my mind was the speed of traffic on the motorway! Well, firstly how big and shiny all the cars were – and how numerous – and then how fast everyone was driving! Took a good couple of weeks for that to wear off. Little bullets of multi-coloured alloy fired along a straight tarmac barrel. Scary.

Dad lives in Gloucester within easy walking distance of the centre of town. I spent the first couple of days just wandering around in a total daze. It was p’ing it down with rain, which quickly lost its appeal; the cold, wet, grey kind of rain. At least in Rwanda it has the decency to throw in some thunder, a bit of lightning, and a mud slide – and it’s still warm enough to drink a beer outside. Rwandan rain is just more sophisticated than that half-hearted, continuous drizzle stuff we get in the UK ;)

I quickly bought shoes and some clothes and tried to unwind by attending a singing bowl meditation at the local hippie shop, which was a mistake. I thought it would relax me and help me to unwind, but it didn’t. I used to go to FWBO Buddhist Centres when I lived in Croydon and Colchester, attended the Metta Bhavana and Mindfulness meditations and got a lot out of them, both experientially and socially. This one was a bit odd, more like listening to a one-woman concert. I like the bowls when they run the wood around them and they hum, but the gonging of them grates on me. 

I’m just getting into the vibe when ‘clunk, ping ping, clunk’ – it’s like trying to drift off to the chimes of Big Ben in miniature. Didn’t do it for me, and I wasn’t quite ready for the obligatory general chit-chat about whose nephew’s done what, who shops where, or what the papers say about climate change. I’m glad I went, but I was also glad to leave. I took a wander down the road and sussed out Gloucester Folk Museum, which was good for a couple of hours.

I also treated myself to going to the hairdresser, which is something I do about once every six or seven years. Only, I almost tore my hair out trying to find one. Some new EU directive says that hairdressers aren’t allowed to dye your hair without doing a 72-hour patch test, which includes any products you bring with you. This same ruling also seems to have led to a national henna crisis, as shops like Body Shop stopped selling it as they feared they couldn’t test the product accurately, or something to that effect. So, not only could I not find the henna I wanted, I couldn't find anybody willing to do it even if I could! Although, oddly, Lush still sell it, but I wasn't sure what you did with the bars.

Thank heavens for hippie shops and Barton Street. One box of ‘mahogany’ henna powder and a Jamaican hairdresser equalled the best conditioned hair I think I’ve had in years. It was lurvely.

I always get fed well at Dad’s. He and Marilyn are great believers in decent veggie fry-ups and we went to our favourite Indian where we had a meal just before I first flew to Rwanda. It was a lovely, relaxed way to begin the holidays. Then, on the 24th, we did Mum’s Birthday and I stayed on with her.

Oh, and, after all this time, I finally got to see the third Pirates of the Caribbean. Thanks Julie, I fair enjoyed that :)

Mum's 60th Birthday

L-R: Friend from the village, Merrick (Mum's partner),
Community Police Officer, Mum, me, Aunty Patsy, Aunty Helen, Aunty Muriel.

As briefly mentioned before, I'm currently in the UK for a month - for the first time in 20 months - to surprise my mum for her 60th birthday, which was Friday 24th July. It was all a bit hush-hush, hence nothing blogged about before. I snuck out of Rwanda on 18th July by Belgium Airlines via Brussels. Not at all impressive, the food was yuck and there was no personal entertainment system on an eight-hour flight! - Kenya Airways are much better.

Touched-down in the early hours of Sunday morning and saw rain for the first time in two months, at Brussels. A sight that has since lost its novelty value ;)

Dad and Marilyn were there to welcome me with balloons and a banner :op

I'll write more about my first reverse-culture-shocked week later. This is just about birthdays.

Mum had been planning a barn dance for months, so we drove down and booked into the Holiday Inn at Rugby, got changed and went over. It went like clockwork. I'd promised to be at home (in Rwanda) on Friday morning so that she could talk to me before the party. Obviously she couldn't get hold of me because I was in the UK and the SIM didn't work. Thankfully, last time we talked, the MTN network went down, so she's used to not being able to reach me due to the poor service. This was the one time I've been grateful for it.

So, Dad and Marilyn went in first and told her they had a surprise for her - they had me on the phone. They got her sitting down with her back to the door to talk to me and whilst we were talking on the phone, I walked up behind her. Classic :)

Had a lovely time dancing, though remained shawled-up as I was freezing to death in the hall. Loads of old friends there, and family. There's a video for those who are interested, courtesy of Dad who is dancing with Mum. I'm dancing with my uncle, Les (Patsy's husband, parents of the Young British Dancer of the Year 2008, my cousin Billy).

The community bobby popped in halfway through to see who was using the hall. As half my mum's friends are probation officers and magistrates, he fitted in perfectly. 

There's also my dad's version of events on his blog too :)

Also, Nobby of Nobby's Brewery, our local micro-brewery based at The Ward Arms, brewed up several kegs of his finest, so beer, wine, and oompsidaisey flowed freely that night.

The next day was recovery. Dad and Marilyn dropped me off at Mam's in the morning as they headed off back to Gloucester. On the Sunday we had a family BBQ, continuing the celebrations.

Merrick, Aunty Patsy and cousin Emily on the patio

Harry, my nephew Damian, and my cousin once removed, Felicity

Damian and Felicity on the bouncy-castle

Family friends Hannah, Harry and
Kate with my brother William

Family friend Barbra, former Mayor of Camden, with my cousin Rosie

Mum's childhood friends Sue & Jan

Aunty Lucy (Rosie & Emily's Mum)

Me stuffing my face after a
hot shower and a glass of red wine!

So, after all of that partying there was just enough time to enjoy a day out at Foxton Locks on Aunty Helen's boat Celia (this is an old photo) with Harry and Damian...

...before my step brother William's 22nd birthday on 2nd August :) 

We took him out for a meal and a drink. Birthdays all round. I've managed to pile on 2lbs in the fortnight I've been home and the trend is set to continue as I head off on a tour of my favouritist people tomorrow: Graeme in Bath, Vikki in Bristol, Jo in Camberwell; Cassie, Sean and little baby Ryan (who I’ll be meeting for the first time!) in Lewisham, back to Camberwell, my cousin Alx and her hubby Pob in Hertford, then across and up to Carlisle with Dad to see Aunty Jean and my cousins, then back to Northamptonshire and off to the airport in the wee hours of 15th. Thus far, I’ve only been reclining in Gloucester with Dad & Marilyn, and here with Mum & Merrick, so the next few days will be quite hectic but hopefully a LOT of fun.

I shall update further if I survive :)

Kitty Bye Bye :(

Time to blow my cover.

I'm not actually in Rwanda anymore! I'm in the UK but had to keep it extremely hush-hush as I was returning to surprise my mam for her 60th birthday.

More on this soon, however I just wanted to make a quick tribute post to my beautiful babies: Ishuheri and Sula. As I was coming back for a month, I took the decision to re-home them with Sarah and Christiane, two volunteers living close to the VSO office. They both love cats and have a nice big garden where they can play. Being close to the office I can visit them when I get back and make sure they're settled in and happy.

I took them over by taxi on Sunday 12th July. There were tears in the taxi, but I felt fine by the time I left. Sarah and I sat in the spare room watching them and giving plenty of cuddles. Oddly, Sula was the best adjusted - she's a little honey. Shuey was a tad moody about it, but soon warmed up to the situation.

My wee babies. I've had them since they were kittens. One-and-a-half years. Memories of baby Mao, who threw himself under a car aged 10 months :o/

They're just over the road from my first house now, so they can pop in for a massage. (That's what they turned it into - a massage parlour!)

I finally managed to borrow Martine's camera, so took loads of photos of them before leaving. Thought I'd bore everyone to death with them now :)

You can also read about when I first brought them home and when we lost Mao and see older pics.

Sula Close Up

Ishuheri: lookin' smoooth

Sula: Egyptian Bast Pose

Playtime!

Sula: relaxing in the back yard

Chow Down!

Can we come with you mum?

We iz beautiful

And we're fine in our new home.

Final note, if anyone is ever looking for a vet in Kigali, call Justin Ngarukiye. He is absolutely wonderful. He came to give them their rabies boosters and they absolutely adored him for it. Seriously, I was expecting a real struggle but he has a magical ability with animals. Can't recommend him enough and he does house calls for FRW 2,000.

Artefacts

I didn't take many pics from inside the house - it was in a bit of a state - but did take a couple of the stuff on my walls...

Paula bought me this the first Christmas we were here.

Ruairi brought me these back from Kampala.

Cathryn's boyfriend J painted this
and it's on loan in my front room.

[NB 2013: Without going into detail, J turned out to be a rather unsavory character, and it's probable that he didn't paint that picture. The painting was later destroyed and this may be the only picture of it.]

I bought this from the artist at Kasubi tombs in Kampala.
It's painted on Ugandan bark cloth; a virgin dance ceremony.

My nod of the head to Ryangombe and Nyabhingi, both cults in Rwanda. The statues are traditionally Rwandan, the central one is Congolese. On the right-hand-side you can just see a giant African land snail shell which is sacred to Nyabhingi. A guide in Ruhengeri explained that Karisimbi is Nyabhingi's home, where the spirits of people who die with honour go.

Home Ground

Finally managed to borrow Martine's camera and have taken a few pics of the not-so-new-anymore house that I moved into in March (for a reminder of what the old one looked like, click here)...

Front of House

Front Gate from Road

Road to left of gate leading to main road
(you can just see Mr. Rujugiro's mansion at the end)

To right of gate - goats, houses and...

A cow.

Straight ahead from gate leading down the
path D and I went for a walk down.

Front Garden

Front Yard

Above: views of Kigali from my porch.

 

Above: Back yard and Sula helping me pack the dish washer. Stratoni is my washing machine for clothes and dishes: put everything in a bucket with washing powder and a cloth et voila, next day it's clean.