The Muzungu from Cyangugu

I don’t think Nakumatt, in Kigali, get many customers from Cyangugu, let alone a 'Muzungu from Cyangugu', so when Enid, the Peace Guest House Assistant Manager, went in last week to enquire about a broken food blender we had bought there, and I had returned shortly after to see about it getting repaired, they remembered the Muzungu with the blender from Cyangugu.

So that’s how I think I am going to be known from now on – the Muzungu from Cyangugu.

In Kigali, last Friday, I went back to Nakumatt to continue my mission to get the blender that seemed to have disappeared (either it was still under the Customer Services counter or really was at the Philips workshop being repaired – I sort of think it was the former but maybe I am getting cynical in my old age!) and had made Enid laugh when I said I was going to ‘Kick some ass in Nakumatt!”  Anyway, I did and it seemed to work as they gave me a new blender – mission accomplished!

Christmas comes to Nakumatt - elephant is a reminder I'm in Africa

My next mission is my visa/work permit although not sure how much ass I will be able to kick there. Back to Immigration, in Kigali, on Monday to face the ongoing saga – we have done the police clearance, proof of my exam qualifications and now they want my ordination certificates!  I had to laugh when they texted me last week to say they couldn’t process my visa application without seeing my ordination certificates so now I have to go and explain that I am not a vicar, rector, pastor but just someone who has come to Rwanda to do voluntary work.  I wonder what they will ask for next.

Have been spending the weekend in Gahini, in the eastern part of Rwanda.  You can just about make it out in the map below – Cyangugu is in the bottom left of the country and it’s a five hour drive to Kigali, through the Nyungwe Forest via Gikongoro and then a further one and a half hour to Gahini at the eastern end of Lake Muhazi, to the northeast (or top right if you don't know your east from your west!) of Kigali.

From Cyangugu to Gahini

I have to confess the last time I travelled on a public bus in Rwanda was when I first visited the country in 2006. I have done the journey, by road, many times but only in ‘private’ buses or cars and have also flown a few times – 30 minutes by air versus 5 hours by road is really a no brainer, especially when you’ve done the journey many times but when it comes to £90.00 by air versus £5.00 by road, I do need to stop and think about it now.

So, last Thursday I found myself on an Impala Express, a 50-seater bus packed full.  I was hoping for a fairly relaxing journey, seated by the window with time to listen to some music, look out of the window to enjoy the scenery or just to doze.

I suppose I should have known better. A young man soon joined me, although bus at that point still had many empty seats, who proceeded to chat and explain that he had recently left school where he had been sponsored through primary and secondary education but no longer had a sponsor to support him through university.  I knew what was coming but had to explain that I was approached by a lot of people who wanted sponsorship, financial support and that it was impossible to support all these requests.  We discovered we were seated below an emergency hatch in the roof that, for some reason, started leaking water and he was getting very wet so decided to move seats.

A young woman then sat next to me with two small boys, as the water seemed to have stopped leaking.  The bus made a few stops, shortly after leaving Kamembe, to take on a few more passengers and for the driver to discover there weren’t enough seats. A lot of shouting started and they seemed determined to remove the woman next to me, and her two small boys, but she remained firmly seated and refused to move and it seemed a lot of the other passengers were giving her their support. Somehow the confusion was sorted and we continued the journey with the radio blaring loud African music that drowned out any music I was trying to listen to.

The road from Kamembe to the Nyungwe Forest is very winding and the drivers go fast. People had told me that when the buses enter the forest that passengers started to throw up and I soon discovered this was true.  Five minutes in and the plastic bags (even though plastic bags are banned in Rwanda, I’m pleased to see passengers breaking the law!) came out and the woman next to me started to vomit and she didn’t stop until three hours later when we were an hour outside Kigali. I spent much of the journey opening the window as she tossed yet another full bag of the contents of her stomach out of the window. I felt sorry for anyone walking along the road!

I did feel sorry for her and so relieved that I don’t suffer from travel sickness and was so impressed by her two sons who sat quietly through what turned into a six hour journey with no questions of “are we there yet?” or “I’m bored” or “I want to go to the toilet”. No food or drink or having to be entertained by games or gadgets.

After an overnight stop in Kigali, it was time for a well-earned cappuccino and chocolate croissant in Café Bourbon now my first port of call when I am in the city. Sitting, watching people on their smart phones and laptops it made me realise, again, the difference between Kigali and Kamembe. 

Kigali's 'new' coffee shop culture

Only a couple of days earlier I had been sitting in a small house, with mud-lined walls, visiting a young woman whose very sick baby had TB, probably HIV and also some spinal problems.  Both mother and baby looked ill and although she was breast-feeding I doubt the baby was getting very much milk and looked so listless. The mother, an orphan, had become pregnant after sleeping with a boy at school who was sent away once she discovered she was having a baby which is what happens here.  Living with an adopted family, the mother has to stay at home to look after the baby, and she looked so sad with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness about her situation.

Mother and baby

We had taken her some food and clothes and also given her some money. Thankfully, there are funds available, donated by a mission team from Scotland who had come out in August, to support her with food and hospital treatment and I heard on Friday that she had gone back to the hospital with her baby and they decided to keep them in so, hopefully, they can find out what is wrong and provide necessary treatment.

After my blender success, it was time for the next bus trip to Gahini.  Having done this 90-minute drive before, I knew that the roads were fairly flat and for the most part straight. It is all a bit chaotic at the bus stations here with no destination signs on the buses but you seem to end up on the right one and people are very keen to help out the lone muzungu. They seemed to manage to fit 40 people onto a 29 seater that proved to be challenge for me, being at the back, when I had to get the bus to stop at Gahini and get out.

Waiting for the bus to Gahini

Stepping off the bus there was an immediate sense of peace. Lake Muhazi is much smaller than Lake Kivu and surrounded by small hills and is where President Paul Kagame comes from and where, today, he has a farm on the other side of the lake.

Gahini is on top a hill and is where early African missionaries built a centre with hospital, church and school. It was also the place that experienced the start of the East African Revival in the 20’s/30’s – Rwanda is the only country to have experienced both Revival and Genocide.  The early missionaries always chose to have their centres on the hills where it was cooler and probably where they could enjoy the views – having visited quite a few of these early mission centres in Rwanda, Uganda and Burundi, it is easy to see why they chose such beautiful locations.

View from the house over Lake Muhazi

I have been staying with a lovely South African couple, Wim and Bertha, who have been here for 12 years. Wim, a doctor, retrained as an eye specialist and works in Gahini Hospital and Bertha works with disabled and blind people at the school and a rehabilitation centre. They live in a lovely house with beautiful views down the hill to the lake and a garden full of flowers. Unlike where I live in Kamembe, their house doesn’t have high walls with broken glass along the top, big metal gates or security guards but do have a small pet dog that lets out a little bark when she sees someone coming to the house. The Rwandans are surprised, when you take her for a walk off the lead, to see a dog and some are even scared as not sure what to make of her.

Wim & Bertha's lovely house

Bertha, a few days before I arrived, had been appointed Coach and Manager of the Rwandan Goal Ball team – a game for blind players involving throwing a ball to score a goal.  She returned to Gahini on Friday evening, from Kigali where she had been training the team, for a short overnight rest before returning to Kigali on Saturday before flying with the team to Nairobi, on Sunday, to take part in a pan-African tournament. Funding for the team had only come in a few days earlier so she had virtually no notice to get herself to Kigali, train the team and then get them to Nairobi.

Much of the weekend has been spent sitting and enjoying the views, reading and sharing experiences with Wim and his 12 years here in Gahini.  Had a nice picnic lunch down by the lake but decided not to follow Wim for a swim when we saw a rather large snake going through the water.

Decided not to dip my toe into the water!

I’m now back in Kigali, twiddling my thumbs as latest visit to Immigration Office proved, yet again, fruitless.  Now waiting for the Bishop to come back to Kigali, from Uganda, tomorrow so, hopefully, we can go together and see someone higher up – either that or I need some divine intervention.

Each time I go to immigration, I think I’m over the final hurdle to be faced with yet another one or two put up in front of me.  They seem to want certificates for everything that I don’t have even though I am more than qualified to do the work here and not blowing my own transport but they really need people, like me, with business experience to help them. 

They are hanging onto my passport and the only way I will get this back is either with my visa/work permit or I write to them applying for it back, with a copy of my return ticket to the UK so I can get out of the country. I'm not laughing now!

Which one will it be?