my first african christmas

or should I say my first christmas in africa? because at first glimpse there was not much african about my christmas; didn’t go to church, didn’t go to a wedding, didn’t spend it with africans, at least not directly. but that doesn’t really matter because it is one of the christmases I will forever remember – and that’s not because it is only the second christmas I spent away from my family not doing the usual routine we always do.

where to begin? I guess my car is as good as any place to start this story ;-)) a while ago marc, ines and I had decided that as we were practically the only ones from our circle of friends left over the christmas holidays we would pack our dogs – a notable 5 at the moment; including some friends’ dogs we’re looking after – into my car and our luggage into theirs and would set off to spend a few days on amohoro island (peace island) in the kivu lake, near kibuye. it takes a couple of hours to get there and is supposed to be beautiful; in the lake – so all about swimming, camping and enjoying some time off from kigali. we were going to leave on christmas day and stay until saturday. on christmas eve morning I drove my car out of the driveway, using my 4x4 as usual; when trying to put it back into the normal mode the 4x4 gear shift got stuck again; I’ve only just gotten my car back after 3 weeks in the garage because of exactly that problem. i wanted to cry. instead I called the garage and explained my problem; the guy told me that they were closing up for the holidays but that he would send someone to tow me. so they came, saw and towed the car – not to be repaired until the new year. fuck!

but the last thing you lose in africa is faith and so I walked to work smiling, hoping, somehow convinced that the gods would come up with a solution. I also texted my friends to warn them – an hour later i get a message from them that their car wasn’t starting… it started looking bleak for our great escape. but hope is the last one to die – and so I tried to keep up my smile and made it through my day. in the mean time marc and ines had had their battery replaced and found out that they had a leak in the break fluid pipe. to cut a long story short; they found some place which was going to weld them the leak the next morning and we decided to leave the ‘holiday dogs’ behind and squeeze ourselves and our 3 dogs into their car – after all is was only a two hour trip and therefore doable.

so the next morning I got up early, went to do some shopping for the trip and then came home to wait for them to pick me up. time ticked by and it got later and later and I had no news; so I called – ines should’ve been round to pick me up already as she had gone to the garage hours ago. another couple of hours later I called again and then finally she had just gotten home. so by about 3pm we were finally on our way – squeezed into their samurai – me in the back between piles of bags and 3 dogs and it actually wasn’t so uncomfortable. we were in good spirits and felt that we had beaten the odds and were now good to go.

on the way out of town we stopped at the petrol station to get some fuel to take us to kibuye; they would only give us about 7 litres worth… (there is a general petrol strike type thing going on – the government wants petrol stations to lower the price quite significantly and the petrol stations are refusing; so they only give out really small amounts of petrol at the time). whatever – there would be more petrol stations on the way. so we left kigali and drove through the hills towards gitarama from where we would take a turn to arrive to kibuye. simple.

about half an hour into the drive I notice that my dog’s throat is doing retching movements; I had foreseen this one – she gets car sick. so being me I had shoved one of the precious plastic bags which had arrived in my possession illegally in my pocket (plastic bags are banned in rwanda – good ey?) – and now was the time to pull it out. I held it open and dear chispa stuck her head right in it and spewed perfectly into the plastic bag. it was a work of art considering we were in a packed car and driving on serpentine roads as this was happening. ines was in stitches from watching the spectacle in the rear view mirror – and I was in stitches too because I was now holding a yellow bag full of dog sick. (I have never seen a dog being sick in a bag; but then we’re talking about a woman who lays out the plastic bag under a dogs anus in order to not have to pick up the pooh ;-)) I handed it to marc in the front seat who was dangling it out the window for the next twenty minutes or so.

we came upon a petrol station actually serving petrol and stopped. marc being on the side of the tank and the one with the money handed ines the bag full of sick to hold whilst he was negotiating with the guy to get double the normal amount of petrol. the man took an interest in the contents of the bag which made us all cry with laughter – we told him it was vomit – and he asked: ‘who’s is it?’ – when we told him it was the dog’s he just chuckled and pulled an ‘i don’t understand these people’ face –which made us laugh even more. we asked him if he had a bin somewhere so we could chuck it; he pointed towards an obelisk type thing surrounded by some grass. ines walked over with the bag but couldn’t find the bin and so came back, still holding the sick bag. he told her to just put it there – in the grass. so she walked over again and gingerly deposited the bag as though they were a bunch of flowers on grave.

with an additional 12 litres of fuel in the tank we carried on; arrived in gitarama and took the road towards kibuye. it forked again a little while later and we took the right road – I mean the road turning off towards the right. she said something like ‘this is the road, isn’t it?’ – and I said, yeah, this must be the one. as soon as I’d said it I thought – mmh, maybe we should ask. but I never said this out loud. we drove on and on through the beautiful hills of rwanda and suddenly I realised that chispa was going to be sick again. with no more plastic bags available I picked up the bowl i had brought for water and as she was retching was holding it at the ready. now – skip the next few lines if you’re squirmish.

she was in a sitting position – not ideal to be sick – and suddenly I saw this bright yellow mass rising up in her mouth – it wasn’t as simple as it had been with the bag; and so I balanced the bowl and tried to get her to be sick in it. she pushed her head backwards but somehow the sick still landed in the bowl; the rest of it was swallowed by her again… you have no idea how funny this particular situation was! and then there was nothing left in her stomach to be sick again; so the rest of the journey was stress free in that respect.

kibuye is about an hour and a half from the said turning; so when an hour and a bit later the tarmac road suddenly turned into to a dirt track we stopped and asked people. as most people out in the country side – which is where we were – don’t speak any french or english asking for the way goes like this: you stop the car, open the window, shout ‘umwa’ (meaning so much as hey, oi) to the nearest person, then you say ‘miriwe’ (good afternoon), then you point along the road in the direction you’re going and say the name of the place you’re looking for. normally people would just nod, point and say the name of the place back to you. not this time. they all looked utterly confused and as though we had just asked them the way to little diddlington on sea. it dawned on us that we had taken the wrong road. shit.

by that time it was a) 5pm and b) we were getting tired. we stopped next to a field to get out, stretch our legs, let the dogs take a leak and a short run around before driving back half the way to kigali and then take the right road. the dogs got out, we did too and were just stretching our legs and laughing about how this simple trip was one big obstacle course; the gods really didn’t want us to get some peace on amohoro island ;-)) but luckily we could laugh about it and weren’t going to get all wound up and cranky about it – I guess we have learnt some patience here already; and what else can you do than to accept the situation?

it was at that point that we realised our dogs had taken off in a flight to check out the two goats tied up in a field about a hundred metres from our car. at first ines took pictures because it was so cute and funny. then the dogs seemed to start attacking the goat. we stood there screaming their names but of course they were in their world and didn’t pay us any attention. shit again. I started running through the field trying to get to them before they got to the goat’s throat. the field was interlaced with water channels and they were full of water; I dashed through the mud in my birkenstocks; nearly falling at times – shouting the dogs’ names and generally panicking. by that time the owner of the goats – a woman – had approached the scene with a machete – I was terrified! the people here do not understand the concept of domestic dogs and I was worried she was going to slash them. eventually the dogs disengaged from their goat feast and came back. as I was hauling chispa back through the fields I came upon ines who was disciplining her big white dog – it was lying in a pool of mud. i just stammered: ‘ines – she’s lying in a pool of mud…’ (thinking about myself who would have to sit next to and partly underneath the now muddy threesome of dogs). we took them on the leash and I went back to the car with them and waited with marc whilst ines walked across the field to examine the goat. just what we needed – our dogs attacking and injuring a goat on christmas day; but I guess that would mean meat for the village at least.

we could see ines and a woman from the village examining the goat, discussing. all the while marc and I were by the car with the dogs getting more and more surrounded by curious villagers. they were all pressed in around the car and were looking at the dogs and at us. a matatu passed and stopped at the sight of a car surrounded by a village but then realised there was not much happening and drove on. eventually a man came forward and asked us what the problem was. we explained and he asked whether we had already negotiated with the villagers; I told him that my friend was doing that and that they were just coming back – no problem. the goat owner detached the goat and dragged it across the field; the rope was fastened around one leg and so it was limping. at first we thought it was seriously injured, but phew, it wasn’t.

turns out the dogs had only been licking it and the goat was not injured at all. well – at least there was some good news. but as I said, people here are not used to dogs and so they claimed that even though the goat did not have any injuries it could still die in a few days as a result of the incident. we explained that they were domestic dogs and that it was virtually impossible that they had inflicted any internal injuries to the goat and that because they were vaccinated not even their saliva would infect the goat with some weird disease. they still wanted us to buy the goat. (now – just so you get the picture: a small car, surrounded by at least 40 people forming a half circle around one side of the car, one person sitting in the car with the door open, one person standing next to the door holding two dogs; and about 5 feet away the woman holding the goat – the dogs obviously agitated at the renewed sight of a goat – in all of this ines negotiating with the man who spoke some french). we showed them the interior of the car and explained that there was no way in hell that we could take a goat; quite apart from the fact that the goat was perfectly fine. it was quite clear that they basically wanted amafaranga (money) – as usual. we offered to pay them something for the trouble and asked how much would be appropriate. the guy asked us how much we would give; we said 2000 amafaranga (about 2 quid) – just to put that into perspective: a goat costs 5000. he was not happy. he asked for 5000. we said no – that was how much a goat cost and that since the goat was fine we didn’t see why we needed to pay for it. again, the bollocks about how the goat might still die. we said 2000 was more than enough (and believe me – for rural people that is a lot of money; people working in the city earn like 35,000 a month – and life in the city is a lot more expensive) – then he said, but in order for us to part on good terms, make it 3000. we’d had enough; got in the car, gave them the 2000 and drove off; back towards gitarama where we would finally take the right road for kibuye.

and during all this journey the man with the boat who was going to take us to the island kept calling me to check up on where we were and when we would be arriving – from an initial prediction of about 2pm we had now gone to more like 8.30 – I don’t even want to know what he must have been thinking about us ;-)) it is generally not advisable to drive after dark outside the cities and i was getting a bit nervous. but somehow driving home to kigali just wasn’t an option. we got to the turning and finally made it onto the right road. by that time night had fallen and luckily the road was deserted. we drove onwards and upwards through the hills, through dark villages which have no electricity and through thick fog which was coming down the road in big clouds. it was like one of those horror movies where people get caught in mysterious fogs somewhere in a forest in canada. at least it was still relatively warm and because I’d never seen a horror film set in africa I wasn’t scared. but we could barely see the road at times and all in all the journey got more and more exhausting. a silence fell in the car and everyone in it had resigned to the fact that this was a lot more strenuous than anticipated. the dogs were all sleeping by that time, occasionally opening one eye to see what was happening – groggy. also, by the time we took the right road the petrol indicator was going down fast; we didn’t go back into gitarama because we couldn’t be bothered to do one single extra mile – having already done and additional 40 or so.

and since all we kept driving through were deserted villages with no light we all started thinking the same… what if we run out in the middle of nowhere? we couldn’t handle another obstacle today. we finally got to a place which had a petrol station; but they had run out of petrol. but this is africa and some guy turned up telling us he could sell us some, but for an extra high price. we negotiated and ended up paying double of what it would have normally cost us. what the heck; at least we would now safely make it through the remaining sixteen kilometres.

as we were approaching kibuye there suddenly was a funny smell in the car; burnt rubber or something – and we wondered where it was coming from – thinking, probably outside. we finally got to the hotel where the boat was waiting and pulled up. we switched off the engine and got out of the car. I called the guy and he said to drive down to the dock – so we get back in the car – and – yes – it wouldn’t start! it had broken down on us; at least it had waited until our arrival at destination.

no problem, the guy came to meet us and helped us carry the luggage through the hotel and its bar down some stairs and onto the boat. ines was talking with her family on the phone and had the dogs – so she had to go round the outside; walking down the road for a bit and then turn left to where the boat was. when after 10 minutes she hadn’t turned up we started wondering. jean-baptiste, the boat man, walked down the road to see if she’d missed the turning; shouting her name. I tried to call her in the meantime – busy. in the end she was found by jean-baptiste and apart from falling over with the dogs whilst talking to her family she was fine and in one piece.

and so – after a 7 hour journey which should’ve taken us 2 and a half we were finally on the boat with our dogs and belongings and headed for peace island. it was surreal to drive through the pitch black night on the pitch black and rocky lake (it was raining and thundering by then) – occasionally seeing islands and trees and lights here and there, wondering whether we were going to run aground or hit a rock – but we didn’t. we got to the island and the lake was rocking with waves. we tried to dock to the landing and whilst the boat was wildly shaking up and down and to and fro we threw our bags and our dogs on the jetty and finally made it onto safe land ourselves.

the greeting was warm and uncomplicated. we sat down, were served some beers whilst we waited for our food which we had ordered by mobile phone from the boat. we were sat in a wooden house which served as a dry spot for the restaurant; and in the end they just pitched up our ‘double tent’ – more like a deluxe suite – right inside this house. and after the best chicken I’ve ever eaten in rwanda and a whisky and coke on ice we fell into our beds and finally got some peace.

some pictures of the peaceful part of our christmas break:

waiting for our christmas dinner

chillin' before breakfast

the love of my life!

swimming with the kids

sunset stroll

everyone's relaxing

sunrise

pre-breakfast swim in the lake...

the last thing you lose in africa is faith!

so - it's christmas; it's also boiling hot and sunny and I am a bit confused as christmas really is supposed to be cold and wet and cosy... but so it goes. I also find it rather hillarious that there is a guy dressed in a santa costume at the entrance of nakumatt and you think: 'my - an african father christmas - I want to buy him' and then he starts moving and actually talking to you... I also have to laugh at the guys who walk the streets of kigali sporting artifiical christmas trees decorated with tinsel; obviously trying to get some last minute business done... well - es gitt nuet wo's nid gitt!

the plan for christmas is to go to amohoro island in the kivu lake - last night we got planning over my first squash and halloumi quiche since leaving england and a bottle of wine. the list of things to bring is long and the 4 dogs will go in my car, the rest in marc and ines' car. we're going to camp on amohoro for a couple of days, laze in the sun and swim in the lake and just enjoy some peace and quiet. what's wrong with this picture?

exactly - my car - again. this morning the 4x4 got stuck again - so I had to call the garage and had the bugger towed; they are closing in about 30 minutes for christmas and new year's and won't open until the 5th of january... and the 4x4 is not exactly fixed at the twist of a couple of screws... so at first I had a fit and decided to take it to another garage; but it's simply an illusion that the car would be running again by tomorrow. so I decided to leave it in the garage where at least I won't have to pay for the reparation as they only just fixed the 4x4 gear box - or so they said ;-))

so here I am waiting for a miracle, smiling nonetheless because I have no other option - and practising my patience once again - after all, t.i.a., this is africa - and things always work out in the end - so 'vous patientez un peu' - whereby 'un peu' can be anything from 3 minutes to 3 months; the clue is 'patientez' - have a little patience. and don't give up the faith!

how did one of the most impatient people I know end up on this continent where everything is about patience? well I guess that is the miracle of life - always takes you where you need to be ;-))

and in that spirit - merry christmas!

to the end of the world or to paradise?

as a dog owner I have a four-legged responsibility and luckily I am not alone in this. so a while ago we discovered the artificial lake in nyarutarama which is perfect for walking our dogs and I regularly go the there with my friend ines and between 3 and 5 dogs. and whilst we walk along the lake and watch our dogs enjoy the running and sniffing and chasing each other we catch up on things; as we only see each other almost every day ;-)) I guess this is a ‘woman thing’ – even after we’ve spent all day together we have to call each other to discuss the way home or something. but this is besides the point.

our walks normally happen after nightfall; there are less people around and it fits better with our schedules (and since night falls shortly after six every day…) and normally these walks are unspectacular; we walk the dogs run and swim and have fun and after an hour we go back home. but today was different.

I got there a bit earlier than ines and let the dogs out of the car and sat there waiting. the dogs were running around nearby and suddenly they spotted a child with which they obviously wanted to play. so they start running up the little boy who dropped his jerrycan and started screaming and running; he was terrified! he lost one shoe and then the other and ended up in my arms, sobbing, screaming and trembling. I tried to calm him down whilst at the same time stopping the dogs from following their instinct. as people are not used to dogs they don’t understand that screaming and running will only make them more excited – and although I know that my dogs would never harm a person they are big and scary to someone who’s not used to them. so once the little boy had been rescued and his shoes collected and I had apologised in both English and French without being sure that I had been understood the people dispersed and it all went calm again.

just then ines turned up – skidding down the dirt track in the car which has a brake-problem; I was worried she was going to end up in the ditch – but she didn’t; it all was fine. we start our walk and enjoy the fact that we can actually see our dogs for a change and as we chatter along we stop to admire one of the ant-streets that crosses our path in a perfectly straight line. it is currently ant season – they are everywhere.

on we walk, dusk is upon us and the lake always full of sounds and peace when suddenly I scream because something is pinching my bum just where my bag is swinging. it feels like a bee bite or a thorn – I scream and touch the spot – as I always do with lots of fabric from my clothes trying to pull away and kill whatever it is that’s biting my backside. ines lifts the waistband and peeks inside to see what is causing me distress; I scream again – she tells me to drop my trousers. I try to undo the knot that holds them up and of course make it worse; she keeps pulling them down whilst I – screaming – try to undo the knot. eventually my pants drop and it turns out that I have a huge ant bitten into to my bum… so there’s ines telling me to hold still; I do – but I keep screaming – and her trying to pull the thing out of my skin… eventually she manages it (it’s not easy; my dog had one of those before – the really bite themselves into your skin).
but I survived; and was in tears by the end of it thinking of what the scene must have looked like to a passer-by (of which luckily there weren’t any) – two white girls both screaming, one with her trousers round her knees and the other one with a keyring and a shawl trying to get rid of an ant. we carry on with our walk and come upon a guy who’s grazing his cows; we had never seen cows there before. beautiful cows, black and white and really shiny and beautiful. of course the dogs went straight up to them, barking and all excited; the cows just marched towards them and the owner of the cows was simply leaning on his stick watching the scene. it was over quickly as the cows didn’t seem to provide too much excitement after all and so we moved on to the bathing spot where our dogs usually get in the lake.

we always stop there for a bit and watch them chasing each other and throwing themselves into the water. and after they’ve had their baths and run arounds we turn around and go back the same way.on the way back there’s a guy walking toward us and at the sight of the dogs he turns on his heel and walks away fast; then he lies on the floor with his hands up in the air and eventually scrambles across the ditch and up the hill where he feels safe. from up there with his two buddies they start teasing the dogs; I say to them that the dogs will come after them if they keep teasing them like that. they don’t understand and after ines tells them the dogs are dangerous he just goes ‘how are you?’ (standard phrase here). then they ask us where we’re going. ines tells him that we’re going to the end of the world. the guy responds that he’s off to paradise – well, if we had been smoking that stuff they had we’d be off to paradise too ;-))

the book of questions - or for what in your life do you feel most grateful?

now here's a question which at first impulse seems to be easy to answer; what popped into my mind instantly: my friends.

but then you start thinking... the fact that I have a healthy strong body that allows me to go anywhere and do anything? my education which gives me access to so many opportunties? the privilege of having been born in europe and into a wealthy family which has allowed me to grow up a healthy strong woman and has made it possible for me to choose my education and what I do with it? and suddenly it's not that straight forward anymore! and isn't this really a question about happiness? and what is happiness anyway; how do you achieve it?

now I would say that happiness is a state of being which you can only achieve by yourself; you have to find your source of happiness within - or else you will never experience it truly. but then who am I to determine this? I have experienced true happiness; this feeling of total calm and centred-ness, of knowing without knowing, without being able to explain, this feeling of wanting to explode into the world, burst into millions of little fragements to be able to be everywhere at the same time to experience the whole beauty of this world at once. but happiness also allows you to see the flowers along the way; to find something positive and beautiful anywhere you go and first and foremost it is a feeling completely detached from anything around you - you can be happy anywhere. but then that's my interpretation; I can be happy anywhere because I am priviledged and have a safety net and strong roots which allow me to grow upwards and out into the world - that's only possible because I am at the same time grounded.

and then - can you really be happy just by yourself? whilst I know that I for myself have to tap into my own source of happiness, I like to share it. and that's where the environment comes in - and seriously - is there anything more beautiful than to share happiness with those you care most about? to share moments of utter happiness with the ones you love is a magical experience beyond words.

so if I had to give an answer to what I am most grateful for in life I would have to say 'myself and those who made me me' - thank you!

Gym tonic - or aerobics a l’africaine

As you have probably gathered by now, the life of an expat in Kigali evolves mainly around eating and drinking and socialising with friends for want of anything else much to do. Eventually you turn into a slug and all that local brew starts showing... what to do? Jogging is difficult enough for me for reasons of discipline; add the hills and the smog from all the filter-less diesel engines and it becomes very difficult... ;-)) there is a gym at one of the hotels but that equally requires discipline and with my lifestyle it’s hard to build it into a routine – too many spontaneous outings and things always get in the way. But something must be done – there are no horses in Rwanda, so riding is out; cycling is out for the same reasons as jogging and it would just be a bit suicidal to cycle in this traffic where most drivers can barely manage their vehicles; yoga is too slow – well and for a long time there was nothing else.

But now it’s gym tonic instead of gin and tonic; they have started aerobics classes again at the novotel; Monday to Friday with the bouncer from the posh club. So I have decided to get back into aerobics again. Today I got there for 6 which is when the class supposedly starts. I’m there early and hang out in the training room waiting for the class to begin. Other participants turn up – one of them with her ipod plugged in, already wearing the weight-lifting gloves. She decidedly moves somebody else’s towel off her favoured step and prepares her bandana which she puts on Rambo style. Then she starts working out her arms using an elastic band. Others are still talking on the phone or chatting to each other. I feel slightly alien because I’m the one not wearing fancy gym outfits, I don’t have exercise gloves or a special workout hairdo. But I’m here to work my muscles, not my image after all.

The trainer turns up about 20 minutes late and whacks on the Congolese music which will take us through the class. And we start warming up our bodies; then we get on to the exercises which involve different movements on the step – first about 32 repetitions of one movement and then the same thing but moving around the step each time. That is the first challenge to master – how to keep going and not fall out of line. Then, adding to the leg movements you move your arms – there is a lot of swinging arms in circles and rather spontaneous movements, then eventually when you start concentrating on the arms too much you lose the feet – then get back in step with the rest – then your legs get tired and you start stumbling over your own feet, arms still swinging oddly. In all of this Rambo-woman in front of me repeatedly lets out screams of happiness that – were we not in Rwanda – would suggest she’s popped some e. Maybe I have not been doing this long enough for my brain to emit endorphins that would make me scream out with joy spontaneously. Another one stops the exercises because her phone is ringing and she has to answer it – people here are generally obsessed with their phones. Then she joins back in – the phone rings at least 3 times during the session. I am not sure how people can have a phone conversation when out of breath and with loud Congolese music blaring in the background.
By the time we get to the abs and finally the stretching part of the class the shirt of the woman behind me has slipped and her bra is more or less exposed; she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Another one left prematurely – the rest of us fight our way through a torturous abdominal workout. This time the music is ‘oldies’ – some lionel Richie and the likes – ghosh I felt old at this expression. The funny thing was the chillout music actually came from a tape – yes, a music cassette! I hadn’t seen one of those in use for years now... and tomorrow I will be in pain ;-)) ENERGY!

patience: vice or virtue?

patience - patience - patience - the neverending lesson of my life! I wonder how much of it do you need to avoid cardiac arrest at age 40; and how much is too much to not move on; to get stuck at the wrong end of a cul de sac? I do not have the answer but I am constantly trying to work out where my balance is...
and typically - just when you think you've worked it out, found a good spot to be - something throws you off balance again... I guess that's why they call it balance in the first place - it's such a fragile thing and you can therefore never really relax into it.

I admire people who can take the everyday setbacks of life as an expat with a smile every time - but I feel uncomfortable around people who constantly complain about absolutely everything and who expect everything to work just the way it does 'back home' (I find it is often not even a case of 'it' working or not; it's a case of having some place to long for which will always be SO much better than where you are).
are you really expected to take it easy when your car has been hit by a falling tree whilst the house is still a building site and there isn't even any water to make a cup of tea (the latter being entirely due to my own headless-chickenness)? are you supposed to shrug your shoulders at the news that you have to pay 200 bucks for taxes on your personal effects even though are really exempt from these by virtue of your job; but since no one tells you anything it got sent to the wrong address and will be another mission to get the money back?

I don't know - sometimes I manage to smile and shrug my shoulders at these kinds of things; other days I explode with fury because there are only so many of these moments I can take and I catch myself wishing it was all as simple as it is back home (which I know it isn't really - just think about opening a bank account or buying a train ticket in the UK; at least here there are no trains ;-))

but then I remind myself that it was my dream to work in Africa; that I chose to come here and that I can choose to leave again if I wish. that does not make me any more patient as a person - but it helps me to keep breathing and to not give up on my dream because of a falling tree or some tax bills.

do you play badminton?

life is random - and sometimes I don't understand the connections that link my life to others, events between them and what the lesson is this time - but I am still convinced that most things happen for a reason and that you can learn something from any situation. the last 48 hours of my life, however, are not making sense and currently I just hysterically giggle at random intervals because my brain is not capable of dealing with all the events and emotions that have overrolled me.

on wednesday night I get home after having had dinner with friends - I realise that my laptop is not where I left it in the morning. I wonder if my housemate borrowed it - she hadn't. 2 minutes later she turns up - a significant sum of amafaranga - dollars actually - are missing; so is the professional camera. how is this possible? we have guards that we hire through a security company that are there 24/7 and the maid has left kigali to visit her sick aunt. we alert the night guards and they fill us in that the day guard had disappeared during the afternoon - no trace of him.

the scary thing was that the house had been locked when my housemate came home and nothing was moved nor was it instantly visible that someone had been inside and had gone through our stuff. a sickly feeling came over me - someone had actually opened my wardrobe and gone through my personal belongings; quite apart from the fact that they stole my computer which contained a large chunk of my life in words, pictures and music... when I found out that the guard and the maid had apparently been seen hanging out and smoking together I felt even more sick - the unexpected seemed to have happened to me. in the security advisories (the story about my organisation's security advisor merits a whole other blog and I don't even want to think about it or I'll feel like drop-kicking again) they always advise you to make sure that the guards and the maid are not related - and to avoid having the person who cleans your house also guarding the place - for obvious reasons. if the two are unconnected the likelihood of burglary in bright daylight is somewhat minimised - yeah, whatever.

anyway - when I found out that there might be a connection between the two I was overwhelmed by shock and for the first few hours I was incapable of feeling anything other than total consternation. it was totally unbelievable that this should have happened to us - I have always made a point of being respectful with my employees, of saying thank you for their work, of adjusting the maid's salary (she was already earning more than double of the guards as I recently found out), giving her stuff we didn't need anymore; only last week I spoke to management here telling them that I didn't agree that the guards who work 8 hours and those who work 12 hours should earn the same salary, urging him to take it up with the agency. I know that the world is unfair, the salaries in rwanda shit and the discrepancies between rich and poor huge - but in my own little world I have tried to be fair and respectful - and in exchange I get stabbed in the back - well thanks. I know this is nothing personal, that it was an opportunity and that it could have happened to anyone; in fact I am not the first person this has happened to - but still.

anyway - the worst thing about it is that very few people can ruin it for all of them; I am no longer prepared to offer anyone work in my house - I will start cleaning my own house and nobody except for my housemate will get a key to the place. and I really don't get the reasoning behind it; you won't find work anymore, you will eventually spend the money you have made (and it will last so much less than what you think) and then what? at least with a regular job, even if it pays peanuts, you have a regular income and you can eventually move on - I have been there; in fact I'm still in that position - I am currently selling my soul but because I know that eventually this will hopefully lead to greener pastures. and we are not talking about people who have never been to school - they all read and write, so they have a basis on which they could've built - but clearly not the sharpest tools in the shed. I swing between anger and disappointment and I am just glad that the security company is dealing with all of it so I don't have to confront these people - I never want to see them again!

ok - so much for that - so fairly livid we were on our way to the police as we were called to inform us that they'd caught the lady and were interrogating her; she's currently in custody. they had an idea of where the stuff might be - I'm not getting my hopes up. we knock back a couple of double spirits which in combination with the adrenaline that is coursing through our veines is putting us into a more mellowed out state after which we are capable of going home and talking to the landlord and the rep from the security services here. the rest of the evening we just hang out at home - we're just making dinner and chatting in the kitchen, still shaken up and slightly hysterical as we hear a weird noise. 'oh, it's probably the dogs' I say - the noise increases and it's the noise of a tree crashing down - we run out of the kitchen and onto the terrace (quite stupid really, considering we were worried the tree would fall on the house) only to see the absolutely gigantic avocado-tree from the neigbour's garden having decided to fall into our garden. it tore down the fence at the back and mainly caused all of us to jump. so there we are - just coming down off a day full of all the emotions of the rainbow - and then that.

do you play badminton?

being a muzungu

those of you who have been to east africa before will know about being muzungu (it's a kiswahili word and means foreigner; it seems to have a slightly negative connotation to it and people generally point at you and shout 'muzungu muzungu' usually followed by 'give me money') - it's not always easy to stomach it. I try to ignore it but every so often I think to myself - if I walked down the street in europe and pointed at an african and shouted 'foreigner' I would probably get fined for it - and to be honest I do not know what is so special about us white people here - after all we move in the same way and are not that different from the africans over all. I also totally dislike the image white people have here; there is always the assumption that you have more money than a person can spend in their life and people here have no shame whatsoever in asking you straight up 'give me money' - which I find annoying and I don't like this image (apart from the fact that I am not part of those expats that earn stupid salaries and can live like kings and queens here).

but being a muzungu is also fun sometimes and usually provides for amusing situations. for instance, on saturday I was on a mission to make my house more homely and for that I need a couple more sofas - so I went to the furniture market in town. as soon as I pulled up at the market I had about seven blokes surrounding me all chattering away wildly in kinyarwanda - just because I can say good afternoon does not mean that I understand the waterfall of words that follows from their end. so I shrug my shoulders, smile and say 'english' 'francais'? they say 'how are you sister?' 'fine thank you' - I say I want to buy a bed - no response - so I try to gesticulate a bed (a bit like playing sharades) - so someone nods and takes me by the hand and leads me to a pile of wood - I shake my head and say 'bed' again - we go to the next stack of wood - I shake my head again. so one of the blokes gesticulates that he knows what I mean and leads the way towards some little shops; I think - mmmh, he doesn't understand. we enter the little shop and try to see if the shopkeeper knows any english or french - in the second shop we find a lady who understands what I mean, she translates and they all explode in a whirl of understanding - one guy takes me by the hand and so we walk across the whole market hand in hand to a whole load of people saying things I don't understand and laughing, he answers and laughs back - I'm guessing they were saying something about us walking hand in hand (here walking hand in hand is a sign of friendship, regardless of whether it's men and men or men and women or women and women).

anyway - they show me beds - we're getting closer to what I want I think but the beds in question are double beds with elaborate headpieces (I'm looking for a flat, simple frame with a single mattress that will serve as a sofa) - I say that I want a smaller one, they show me the next one - still not what I mean, so I say smaller again - and they show me a baby-bed with the typical high fence-type finishing round the edges - still, I shake my head. so the carpenter kneels down in front of me and starts drawing designs in the dust - this makes me think of chambers' participatory methods where you use sticks, stones and leaves to map your community in the sand outside the chief's hut - so my studies have taught me something after all ;-)) I start sketching too - and somehow we understand each other and it turns out I will have to give him the measurements and a sketch of what I want and he will make it for me - it will cost me 100$ a piece - but that I will negotiate; I have learnt to cock my head and put on my puppy-eye look and usually I get what I think is a good price. we will see ;-))

and only a few hours later I was walking my dog along the lake in kigali - always a highlight for the dozens of people lingering in that area (this time they all watched me very interestedly as I was scraping dogsick out of the trunk). she takes a swim and two blokes who are working near the lake say hello and note that my dog is swimming - yes, I say. a young boy turns up and starts walking with me - at that point I am getting a bit tired of being the main attraction around. when he starts scaring my dog I turn round and tell him to stop it; at the same time I wonder whether he is just going to carry on walking with me - I'm getting sick of it and want to be by myself. after I tell him off for scaring my dog he stops walking alongside me and suddenly - I must have walked about 20 metres away from him already - I hear a stone dropping behind me, and then another one - it turns out the boy is throwing stones after me... I felt like throwing one back! It makes me furious to feel agression towards me - and I know it's not something personal - but in situations like this I do sometimes wonder what keeps me here, why I am doing this to myself? I don't know. these are the situations where I miss the anonymity of an afternoon in brighton; the fact that you can spend hours amongst people without being noticed.

of love, freedom and spanners in the works

I certainly didn't imagine life in africa the way it has turned out - I am still trying to get to grips with the fact that I am living in a big house, have a dog, can afford a car, have people working for me and all that as a volunteer... but that's the way it is and most days I love my life.

I love my dog - she is the most incredible creature ever - so kind and tender, full of beans and mischievous and now my companion until death do us part.

I love my car - it has given me freedom and mobility; allows me to plan even less and up until a week ago was very reliable and enduring. but as happens with 20 year old cars, there comes a point at which things start going wrong. the last 3 weeks my little lady - 'bertinchen' - has been a bit sick and spent most of her waking hours in the garage - it all started with her not having much power when going uphill and as I am a greenhorn in engines I took her to the garage and told them to look into it. as I was going to pick her up I was told she needed a new clutch - another 4 days without a means of transport... oh well - I guess it just needed to be done.
when I finally got her back I just couldn't get her to start without pushing - luckily there are lots of hills in kigali.

I had the drivers of the office look at her and after I'd tried for ages to start her up one of them got in the car, turned the key and she sprung to life like there had never been a problem - this seems to happen a lot to me these days; things don't work and as soon as the expert comes along they behave as though nothing had happened... is the world against me? ;-))
low and behold the next morning my poor guards had to push the car again - I park face up the hill, so can't do the rolling down the hill directly... after the second time my guard kindly drew my attention to the fact that I should park her the other way round. I went to work again and in the evening couldn't get her to budge and had to leave her over night.
the following morning I asked another driver to help me - and he opened the bonnet, and started looking around and suggested lending me his battery - we connected it - still nothing. ok - so it's not the battery. then he sucked some petrol out of the tube and spat it onto the motor (a mouthful of petrol at 8am - I can't think of anything I'd rather do at that time of the morning!) I tried and she sprung to life for 3 seconds - ok - so it's to do with the amount of petrol that gets into the engine when starting - he turned the little container that holds some petrol for starting upside down and diagnosed that it was due to the petrol not reaching the tube that it didn't get to the motor. wicked - my car was fixed with a simple turning of a container - I was happy.
in the afternoon I got off work and decided to go for a little cruise before my hairdressers appointment - put the key in the starter, turned it and all that came out was a lame stuttering which died off altogether after a short while... f***!
I went to find more drivers who again opened the bonnet and looked and pondered and discussed, tried to start the car and ended up doing it by pushing her. off to the garage again - too late to do anything before the weekend... b****r.
back to garage on monday - monday evening pick up the car - it seems to work now - yay. tuesday morning - nothing again... more pushing by the guards but everytime I broke the motor died - so instead of going to work I went to the garage - again.
I complained that they had screwed it up - I'd never had these kinds of problems before they changed the clutch. I got her back last night - and managed to start her this morning although after a few stutters.... fingers crossed I'll be able to take off tonight!

the dark side of the moon

how many times have you been camping in the african bush with a double matress, a bialetti coffee maker and had drinks with ice under the stars watching an almost total eclipse of the moon dancing round a bonfire? well - this is my weekend in akagera summed up in three lines - in one word: BREATHTAKING! definitely one for the memory box.

there is nothing like driving along through african countryside with some good music and company - I got carried away by just looking out the window and letting myself be absorbed by the music and the countryside; in a world of my own, too happy for words - feeling like everything is in perfect alignment; being in exactly the right place at the right time - I would not have changed anything.

I also realised how much I miss camping and being outdoors, sitting around a fire and sleeping under the skies; must remember to do this more often. and camping with a car is fun; you get to take your house to the bush ;-)
we packed the van with a double matress, moskito nets, charcoal and kerosene, the kerosene lamps, food and drink for an army, coffee pots and a sound system - if you do it, you might as well do it right, right?

off we went to akagera national park which is only a good hours drive from kigali but the landscape is very different; still hilly but you can already see how it turns into the plains of the serengeti; the vegetation is less dense, the dominant colour the yellow of the dried grass spotted with green dots of shrubs and bushes against the sometimes red, sometimes ocre colour of the earth.

upon arrival we went and had lunch at the lodge before setting off in search of giraffes and maybe the elephant. at some point we lost the others and were just driving through the bush, stumbling upon a herd of antilopes without a clue of where we were going or indeed where the other car had gone. but thanks to a phone call indicating us that the others were just past the herd of okapis and had spotted a giraffe and a compass we miraculously managed to find them - and the giraffe.

as night was falling we drove up to the camp site which is on a hill overlooking one of the lakes in the park. we set up our 'tent' - we tied a moskito net to a tree and placed the double matress underneath it - done! the others struggled a little more with their swish little igloos; but in the end everyone had a 'roof' under which to sleep.
we got a good fire going and indulged in some domain de bregon with pringles before proceeding to the main course of the event - brochettes, bread and pasta salad. we even still had some ice left from the improvised coolbox and thus had some cocktails with ice whilst sitting round the fire listening to music from the portable stereo - can it get any better?
oh yes! looking at the moon we suddenly realised that there was a shadow moving over it - and it wasn't a cloud... so we concluded that what we were in fact witnessing was an eclipse of the moon. well - it was one of the most amazing moments I have lived so far. magical - absolutely magical!

the moon shining onto the lake

brochette

after a night under the stars we woke up to a beautiful sunrise and as we came prepared started making coffee - well, there's nothing like a good coffee after waking up! we unpacked the breakfast buffet which consisted of bread, manchego cheese, nutella and peanut butter, fruit and cookies - you name it! and after a nice chilled breakfast we packed up our belongings to go and find some wildlife. we weren't hugely successful but still managed to see a couple of bald eagles, hippos, different types of antilopes and animals that look like an african version of deer, kingfishers and ibises.

sunrise


the 'tent'




breakfast buffet

we stopped at the campsite by the lake and spontaneously started having lunch. unfortunately some of the bread had gotten drenched in kerosene, but luckily there was more ;-) so we indulged in more tortilla de patatas (home made of course), left over pasta salad, cheese and fresh pineapple - seriously delicious and spot on! then a little siesta in the shade.
we concluded our tour d'akagera with a drink in the lodge.

hippos

bald eagle

we were just about to settle down with a refreshment as ana called us - a baboon had smelt the food on the back of the pick up and helped himself to one of our garbage bags (the one with the kerosene-bread) - fascinating to watch him go through our garbage, carefully inspecting all the stuff and eating what he deemed eadible. it's quite weird to see a furry thing moving just like a human being. once he'd finished with that bag he climbed onto the back of the van and opened the carton of juice and started drinking. the guards from the lodge chased him away and took our garbage and we quickly proceeded to lock all the food related items in the car - after all we wanted to drink our coffee in peace before hitting the road back home to kigali.

checking out the garbage

the indian pants go to the congo

well - how to describe what I experienced this weekend? it was what spanish people call 'la hostia' and I am still in a daze and lost for words. it was one of those experiences where you see something and it's so incredible and unbelievable that you sort of can't take it in; it doesn't feel real and it's impossible to digest what's happening - well, that kind of sums up my feelings about this weekend. but let me try and tell the story from the beginning...

about a week or so ago tifas was talking about his trip to goma and how he wanted to climb the nyiragongo volcano (the one that erupted in 2002 and for which I sent out blankets on behalf of the swiss red cross - you can still see donor-plates along the road to the national park ;-)) - it took all of no time to convince me to go along too - I LOVE volcanoes and after a couple of difficult weeks at work a bit of volcanic energy was exactly what I needed.

so on friday I left work at 12.30 and got into my car to head up to goma. my colleague lindsay hitched a ride with me as he wanted to see gisenyi and goma - lucky me! suddenly - we'd just been talking about the car and stuff that can go wrong, etc. - when the acceleration stops working. I pull over and we open the bonnet (I was really scared something had gone severly wrong and we were going to be stuck on the road for the rest of the day). lindsay identified the problem straight away: the contact with the battery had been shaken off (my car is a very clattery vehicle, so no surprise that the screws get shaken loose). we miraculously manged to find half a pliers and some wire with which we fixed the contact back onto the battery - and the car jumped back to life as though nothing had happened. brilliant!
so - off we continued on the road to congo. we made good time and got to the border at 5.30. crossing over and getting into congo was much easier than last time and we did not have to pay any 'coffee' this time. upon arrival in goma we went to a hotel on the lake and had a tembo (congolese beer) about which I had been dreaming ever since deciding that I was going to go and climb the nyiragongo. it tasted amazing and whilst we were having beer and just enjoying sundown at lake kivu the tour operator joined us and lindsay spontaneously joined up to climb the volcano with us.

so with a lot of anticipation for the next day we went to the supermarket to buy our food and then went to the hotel to drop our bags and finally to go and have dinner at the doga bar before heading back to the hotel for a good nights sleep before the climb.
we got woken up in the morning first by thunder and then by the welding and soldering noises from the workshop just below the window - oh well - at least we didn't need the alarm clock ;-)) after a cold shower I packed my bags and we went downstairs for breakfast - lovely cup of nescafe nido and an omelett on a piece of bread with blue band - three things I don't understand about central africa: nescafe, nido and blue band - if you don't know these things, don't endeavour to get to know them, they're not worth it!

eventually the tour operator came to pick us up from the hotel and we drove to the entrance of the national park where we would meet up with the porters and guides. we stood around for ages, porters identifying which bags they would carry, tying stuff together to make it easier to carry and all the muzungus shaking hands and introducing each other - after what seemed forever we finally set off towards the volcano - the peak seemed so far away and it was easy to think - 'ghosh - are we ever going to get there today?'. but the path pretty much immediately leads into thick forest which obstructs any view beyond the immediate path ahead. the ground was soft and moist and the air full of that musky smell a damp forest emits; really reminded me of our family trips to the woods picking mushrooms - and I realised once more how much I miss going into nature. when you stood still and there were no human sounds you could hear the insects humming and the birds singing and you could hear peacefulness - I'm not sure how to describe this, but it's the sound of silence accompanied by the sounds of the birds, the insects, the rustling of the trees - but underneath it all is that audible silence that to me represents absolute peacefulness. strange to feel this peacefulness in a forest in which I was never sure whether we didn't have the odd pair of invisible eyes on our backs; after all it's the congo and the area is not necessarily safe - luckily it all went well.

then after about an hour or so of walking we got to the first resting point, just beyond the trees. we had reached the area where there used to be a forest but the lava from the 2002 eruption had killed all the vegetation on its way down the hill. as a result the area looks quite bizarre: there are dead tree trunks sticking out of a surface of lava - the trees that hadn't turned to dust in the flood of liquid stone that rolled down that hill (I couldn't help but think that it must have looked incredible to see the lava come down the hill - although devastating for the people certainly an incredible natural phenomenon). out of the cracks in the lava you have all sorts of tentative plants growing: mini fern leaves, little flowers, yellow, purple, pink, orange, blue and all the rocks covered in lichen - apparently the first thing to grow after everything has died in a place (I seem to remember that piece of information from somewhere - but I could be wrong ;-)) anyways, the whole landscape looks incredible; a black undertone and then the most incredible little spots of colour contrast all over - and it's amazing what you can see when you look closely - a whole micro-cosmos of life amongst the rocks. walking up the hills we also saw smoke coming out of the shrubs in places; since it was smelling of burnt wood we thought they were the fires in which people are making charcoal. we found out at one of the stops that in fact they are holes in the mountain and there's hot air coming out - sort of breathing holes of the volcano - absolutely amazing! we also saw one of the big cracks that had opened in 2002 and from where the lava had poured out and down the hill. in short - an incredible landscape. from a hiking point of view - a nightmare. stumbling up the steep path over fields of loose lava rocks is not exactly easy... but the experience as a whole was very special and also very meditative for me. there is something amazing about how you can push yourself through a physical challenge just by mentally adjusting!

tifas (with wound)

holes in the ground with steam coming out
(not very visible in the picture but amazing in reality!)

after I don't know how long on the lava fields we entered a forest again - this time it was much more primary rainforest type forest where the lava hadn't destroyed the vegetation. apparently there is not enough pressure in the crater of the volcano for it to explode upwards, so it pressed itself out through the bottom and therefore the top bit of it is still untouched by the recent eruption. again, incredible vegetation, humidity and birds and insects. high-altitude rainforest is beautiful! to walk up that part however was extremely challenging and I had to stop very frequently; we were also getting to an altitude that should not be underestimated... and the steepness of the path in combination with the fact that it was steps of different heights and the altitude made it a big challenge for me - but step by step I managed to get ahead. finally, after what seemed like hours we reached the metal huts which are apparently the shelter of the guides for the night (the ones that accompanied us stayed up on the crater with us) and we could see the end about 200 metres ahead; but these 200 metres seemed like 200 kilometres away: a steep strech of rock interspersed with volcano-tobacco (a plant that definitely looks like tobacco - don't know whether you can actually smoke it though) and yellow flowers and little bushes of grass here and there. it is so steep you almost have to walk on all fours and it seems absolutely endless when you're climbing it. I did stop after nearly every step because it was so hard to get up there - and it went on forever. ahead we could see the people that had already made it and the tents that were being pitched up - and it seemed so far away! eventually I got closer and closer to the top and to my left I could make out the steep drop that was already the crater. I stopped and waited for tifas to join me - I wanted to reach the summit with him - at the same time. and it is totally overpowering to arrive at the top and there is the crater - no warning, no physical distance to prepare you for what you see - it's right there, right in front of you - a big massive perfectly circular crater - I don't know how large the diameter might be - it seemed like at least 2km and then just a steep drop down, in some places overhanging. the guards were very edgy and kept reminding us not to go too close to the edge in some places as rocks might break off and people could fall into the crater (this time last year a chinese woman fell down and from the stories you hear it was not a pretty sight!). so anyway - steep drops all around, i don't know, maybe 300 metres and there's like a smaller crater inside the big one. you can see the lava on the ledge - and from the ledge another drop down to yet another smaller crater in which you have the boiling lava.

this is how steep the last bit was!

the crater

...

now - I am not sure how to describe the sight of boiling rock, of a perfectly circular opening in the earth from which the earth itself if breathing - smoke billowing out in big clouds, the sound resembling a rough sea and waves crashing onto the rocks, only the waves are lava and the spray thousands of degrees hot - glowing drops of liquid earth flying upwards to fall back down - some landing on the ledge outside the crater. the whole thing glowing red, the top cooling off and showing cracks in changing directions, then suddenly one of the cracks widens and the lava comes bubbling out, accompanied by the smoke and steam that are set free - at times very intense then dying down only to flare up shortly afterwards - and this overwhelming sensation that this crater has been doing this for thousands and thousands and thousands of years - all the time, never stopping, a sea of lava rising and falling through time - oblivious to the politics surrounding the mountain, oblivious to the conflict on its hills and oblivious to the tourists that come or don't come - an age old natural phenomenon following its course. I felt so small and unimportant facing this crater of pure energy and power and it was great to be made aware again of how small we are in this world, of how unimportant we are really to the course of the world - that we might think we make an impact but in the grand scheme of things we are only a tiny little element and there are elements way more powerful than us out there - a good feeling! I think we tend to take ourselves way too importantly most of the time.

red label is a good heating system ;-))

'sleeping' on the edge of the crater

needless to say I could barely take my eyes off the crater and its bubbling lava and so after our dinner (hotdogs with mayonnaise and asparagus - total decadence!) tifas and I took our bottle of whisky and went and stood by the crater again philsophising about life and love for ages - remembering stories and telling them - feeling invigorated by life and its course and happy to share such a special place and moment with a dear friend. eventually it got unbearably cold and we decided to squeeze into the tent with lindsay (the tent, I think, would have been intended for one person - we were three; one of us nearly 2m high and the tent was already short for me!!) needless to say we didn't sleep much if at all and crept out of the tent again at 5am feeling groggy and cold. but nothing could spoil the effect of the volcano - I just couldn't get enough of it - seeing it in the fog of the pre-dawn light, then suddenly the light of the day creeping over the edge of the crater, illuminating the bottom and bringing out the contrast of all the different levels in it - the smoke of the crater against the early morning sun and in our backs still the cloud which was covering the hill we were having to walk down shortly. after a cup of nescafe which came full of ash and cooled off too quickly and one last look at the now obscured crater I turned my back on it and started the descent back into the valley.

we hadn't reached the metal huts at the bottom of the summit and I already had to start stripping off my endless layers of warm clothes - incredible what a temperature change there was from just a hundred metres or so. after about 1 hour I was soaking wet already and my feet and legs were tired - due to the cold on the top and the emotion of seeing the crater and everything I didn't feel the exhaustion or the tiredness from the climb; but after a night without any sleep and on a steep slope going down I became brutally aware of my aching muscles. to cut a long story short: the descent was painful and slow and extremely exhausting - two walking sticks broke and as a result I fell, my feet were simply too tired to not stumble over the rocks and it was a mental super-challenge to carry on - especially as the reward awaiting me was a long drive back to kigali. but it was worth every single second of it and if I wasn't in so much pain today I would say I'd do it again - but I'm not so sure right now ;-))

the descent into the cloud

and I did it all in my indian pants from ecuador - I still vividly remember climbing the cotopaxi in my first ever pair of indian pants almost 10 years ago - maybe volcanoes have to be climbed in indian pants ;-))