when odd becomes normal

when I walked home from work last night I remembered my blog post from the first week about the little odd things that strike the new arrival in a place like kigali. I also noticed that in fact, I am becoming more and more rwandan in many ways, I am internalising certain practices that at the beginning were so incomprehensible to me. and in light of my upcoming visit to europe at christmas I am actually getting a bit worried that my behaviour will no longer be compatible in many ways with that which is common currency back 'home'.

one of the odd things which are becoming normal to me is that people tend to walk on the roads rather than the pavement. either they walk on the opposite side of the road from where the pavement is, or even more oddly, they walk next to the pavement. why is that? I have been wondering that for ever and a day. last night I left the office after dark, and since mugging is on the increase I was not feeling as comfortable as I have been in the past about walking home. I chose to walk on the opposite side of the road to where the pavement is for the simple reason that there would be less people on that side of the road. eventually I got uncomfortable with the cars driving past me with the width of a hair to spare and decided to go for the pavement anyways. of course I had to cross the middle of the street where the famous grassy partitions are which you are not allowed to step on. and did what few people do, I crossed it, taking extra care not to step on the actual grass.

the pavement near my office is actually good, flat and even, and provides enough space around the trees planted in its middle to be able to walk on it. but once you get further into my neighbourhood the ground is strewn with big stones, unevenness and obstacles you can easily trip over. and of course the lighting is minimal, even when the street lights are working. so I started walking on the road next to the pavement. a revelation. if you don't want to break your toes and twist your ankles you are better off sticking to the road which is flat and easy to walk on in the dark. and so I am starting to understand the sense in some of the odd customs of people here :-)

so now I'm simply hoping that I won't be found wandering the streets at home next to the pavement... having said that back home cars take a wide berth when there's cycles or pedestrians to be avoided. I am equally worried that I will remain in the custom of rwanda and pretty much graze the people - I don't think it would go down too well. I am also going to be extra careful not to honk the horn at absolutely everything and everyone that looks like they could get in my way - it is not a very appreciated custom back home, whereas here you cannot drive without honking in regular intervals, be it to make yourself seen, to announce you're home, to greet friends, to express your anger at other traffic participants, or to simply send a warning down the road.

and finally, I have a funny vision of myself buying a pack of chewing gum at the busy kiosk in the central train station taking my time enquiring about how the person selling the gum to me is. here, you do not start any transaction, no matter how simple, without first greeting the person, and asking them how they are. this applies to the phone, to the shop, to the pharmacy, to everything. and it will be weird to interact with people without this little ritual.

overall I'm curious to see what oddities I will detect once I'm in europe, and how I will look back onto my life and its customs here from the european perspective. odd is normal, normal is odd - and what is normal, and what is odd anyway?

never a dull moment

my housemate said to me last night that I had too much action in my life. what do you mean? I asked. 'well, you never do anything without bringing a story back; and not just a beautiful-butterfly-on-a-seldom-yellow-flower story, but stuff always happens to you'

well - last week we were supposed to go to gisenyi for a retreat, stay the weekend and then another retreat directly after. we could stay with a friend and thus decided to a) go in our own cars, and b) bring the dogs. after the last trip to akagera my car was having problems and the ninja had not finished it by the time we had to leave to gisenyi. but luckily there are several cars in our happy little family - and one's always running. so - on wednesday morning I grabbed my bags and my dog and went across the road around 9am. the sun was shining, I was in a good mood and looking forward to spending a few hours driving through the beautiful country, listening to some good tunes and just getting out of kigali.

we accommodate the dogs, put the shades on, roll the windows down and whack some tunes on - and are on the road again. it feels good. I love being on the road. we leave kigali behind and start the ascent to my favourite bit of road in the country - the one from where you can see the thousand hills all at once. it's a steep road winding its way through the woods onwards and upwards. we haven't been driving 10 minutes when the engine looses all power and eventually shuts down. being the hopeless optimist I am I say that it's probably just the battery cable that's come loose. we get out, open the hood and discover that at first sight no cable is loose, nor looks out of place. urs gets the trouble shooting manual out and then discovers that there's liquid oozing out of the engine. mmmh - it doesn't really smell of anything; but it's also not just water. we wait a bit, try the engine again, no movement and we realise pretty quickly that we have a problem which will not be solved on the spot. in other words - we'll have to tow the car back to kigali, exchange it for my car (which was almost finished at that time) and try again.

we start calling all our friends to see if anyone's around to drive past my house, pick up the towing cable and come and tow us back to the city. of course, on a wednesday everyone's working. after speaking to ninja we find out that towing personal cars is not allowed; you have to call a rescue truck. ninja does that for us. after about 2.5 hours of sitting on the roadside with two dogs trying to find spots in the shade to not burn like a potatoe in the embers the 'rescue truck' turns up - I am not sure how to interpret 'fire base' - but we had no choice; we did however have time - and that's how you win in this country. the guy wanted an extortionate amount of money for the towing - we're talking 160 USD. we refused. then called the ninja and asked - regular price should be 60USD - so we told the guy that we'd pay him maximum 80 - otherwise he could take his rescue truck and go home. and being that adamant and having the attitude of 'we don't need you' always works. it's like staring down someone - the more patient one wins. so we kind of won and got towed back to kigali.

the fire base...

at ninja's we unloaded the car and loaded mine - same same but different :-) the tyre had blown on the way back from akagera and so we had to pass by the tyre place before we could try again. another half an hour's waiting - but by that time it made no difference anymore. eventually the tyre was fixed and we were ready to take off. it was going well until about half an hour into the drive I noticed that the car just did not have its usual kind of power. and sure enough shortly after the engine kept stalling when slowing down, rolling down the hill it started backfiring and of course there were the bumping movements it makes when the idle is not ticking over properly. urgh. is this really necessary? turns out the brand new timing belt was worn to shreds, again. urgh, again.

we finally arrived in gisenyi about 6 hours late and the first thing we had to do was the walk of shame on the beach with the 35 other participants of the retreat who all knew that we'd broken down on the road. well - luckily one has been endowed with a good measure of self-irony and humor, so we just laughed about it. when a few hours later I drove the car into a ditch on the way home it was just another one of those things that we will probably laugh about forever. just as well there's always people around and for a few hundred francs we got them to lift the car out of the ditch.

the next morning the venue for the retreat was a technical school which includes a garage - jackpot. I drove the car straight onto the pit and told them to fix it. they spent the next four hours cleaning stuff and twisting screws. by the end of it it worked fine again - at least so I thought. on the way home the engine stalled once. WHAT?!? but it was fine again after. so the next four days I drove around without any problems - until it was time to go home. once again we loaded the car and set off; I noticed instantly that the car did not have the power it should have had. and in intervals it nearly lost power completely, backfired, caught on and powered up the hills, stalled, came back to life - as forrest gump would say: urai fen's like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get. we made it home, just about. and right outside the house the car decided to die - to the extent that the guards had to push it onto its parking spot... never a dull moment!

we love akagera!

driving barefoot

driving through the mud

laughing out loud several times a day

sleeping in a tent

food that tastes of fire

spilling a pot of boiling coffee water and swearing out loud

swatting tse tse flies whilst driving through offroad terrain

puncturing tyres

lazying in the hammock

staring at the landscape for hours on end

snoring

being stared at by animals

making hamburgers

starting the day with a state of the art cappuccino

having transcendental conversations

having meaningless conversations

daydreaming

remembering

forgetting

fantasizing

not showering for 3 days

then finally showering and loving it

'is yours wet?'

making stick bread for the first time in almost 20 years

ice cold beer for lunch in the savannah

out of africa

participating in a secret car contest

winning the contest

losing the contest

flying high

delving deep

enjoying a perfect moment

enjoying the silence and the darkness

feeling the love

ever had a racing car for breakfast?

so - life in the expat community is blissful most days, particularly when you can rent a house on lake kivu with a private jetty and the most amazing views onto the nyiragongo volcano. and of course for the perfect weekend one needs to do a perfect shop - there's nothing worse than running after basics in a town which has very limited amenities - and let's face it - we are a spoilt bunch what with nakumatt down the road and all. so we went shopping before setting off. amongst other things we bought a jar of honey. still not quite past my student attitude of always buying the cheapest brand that still looks attractive I chose the honey for 2,000 francs - why do we need a tub at twice the price? we won't know the difference...

the next morning I was making coffee and just re-arranging the purchases in the kitchen as I noticed the price tag on the honey jar - it said: 'racing car' - 10,500 FRW. it of course reminded me of the days when we'd weigh a box of pencils, print out the equivalent of its weight as aubergines and then had a mighty giggle when the person at the check-out didn't notice the difference. and I thought - ha - who would be so stupid as to not detect such a mistake? well, we were. I found the receipt two minutes later and believe it or not we'd purchased a jar of cheap honey at the price of a racing car.... well - so much for wanting to save money.

not only the humans were having a blissful time!

and because expat life is not just about bliss, but involves cars also I will tell you the story of my other 'racing car', a.k.a. the cherry red joyride, bertinchen. she's been suffering from ignition problems; which for me have become common currency to the point where I never park my car nose uphill, nor will I take her inside any compounds where it will be hard to push her should she decide not to ignite. I am by now an expert in bumpstarting and more.

anyway - before going to kibuye I had the ninja look her over and he told me there was a problem with a part in the ignition mechanism but that the guy who had the corresponding part wanted too much money for it, so he'd found a makeshift solution. basically, there were problems in maintaining the electrical circuit for starting the car - so whenever that problem would ocurr, I would have to stick my left hand under the dashboard and move the cables around until I'd get a contact. we dubbed it 'mcgyvering the car' - it worked just fine once I figured out which cable it was. and so I've been getting used to this new system over the last two weeks. towards the end of last week it started getting more and more tricky - i.e. finding the right position for the cable to establish contact was becoming increasingly complicated.

on saturday night I was en route to a friend's house and stopped at the shop - after that I could barely find the contact; I ended up driving down the hill with one hand stuck under the dashboard, peering out through the steering wheel - but of course your hand is never steady enough whilst driving a bumpy little car to hold it in place - and so eventually the engine just didn't have electricity anymore and died. I was stranded. bugger.

I called the ninja, who came straight away and realised immediately (with a little help from his nokia-torch) that one of the cables was broken and it was thus impossible to establish a circuit. 'we have to cut the cables' was his verdict. right. I was totally expecting him to take the car with him. instead he started rummaging under the passenger seat of my car and extracted a machete - he'd forgotten it last time he'd repaired the car - and I have obviously been driving around with a machete for the last 2 weeks - unknowingly. anyway - he starts chopping away at the cables whilst I'm holding the flashlight and watch the whole process with hightening suspicion. but then again - you have to trust - this is africa, this is ninja - things work out, sometimes in very strange ways, but they do.

to cut a long story short - 10 minutes later I had learnt how to hotwire a car. and henceforth this was going to be my new ignition until the old one was repaired. so there I was, feeling a little bit like the african version of gone in 60 seconds, of course it took 20 minutes more like. and honestly, who hasn't wanted to steal a car before? be honest! well - I've stolen mine. and if it wasn't for the engine not ticking over fast enough and the backfiring I would probably be driving around like this for a while to come.... and do I need to mention that I love it?

45 lessons of life

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. You can get through anything if you stay put in today.
17. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
18. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
19. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
20. Overprepare, then go with the flow.
21. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
22. The most important sex organ is the brain.
23. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
24. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"
25. Always choose life.
26. Forgive everyone everything.
27. What other people think of you is none of your business.
28. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
29. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
30. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
31. Believe in miracles.
32. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
33. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
34. Growing old beats the alternative - dying young.
35. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.
36. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
37. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.
38. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
39. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
40. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
41. The best is yet to come.
42. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
43. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

author: regina brett

what's with the juju?

I'm exhausted, and I don't even have the energy to get into a detailed description of the events that followed on each other's heels in the past week... it has been rather unbelievable:

• my dog gets hit by a moto whilst running out on the street; apart from a couple of scrapes she's fine. if anyone has a patent way of teaching a dog 'stop, look, listen, then walk' please let me know.
• it rains really hard and as a result my pillows are soaked... mmmh!
• my friend's credit cards stop working for no good reason which means I don't get my saturday morning banana pancakes - poooh!
• my computer stops working, completely. just as I'm about to go on a skype conference marathon. luckily my friend saves me by lending me her computer and connection and making me coffee; my other friend fixes my computer and brings a big box of cakes to sweeten up the day.
• we go to the beerfest and sing country roads on the way home in the car; the only thing that's missing from our lives is a guitar.
• I wake up with a hangover (ok - kind of my fault, really)
• because the credit cards stopped working my friend has a moto accident - he's fine, thank god!
• we take the dogs for a walk and they kill 3 chickens in the process which means negotiating with the whole neighbourhood and paying the owner of the chickens a bit too much for want of more patience. (patience again! arrgh...)
• monday morning greets me with a migraine the size of france which won't go away all day.
• tuesday morning greets me with a clear head, high spirits and the conviction that this is a new week and shit will stop happening now.
• I walk to work and nearly get hit by a falling tree - clearly it ain't over 'til it's over.
• I have fantastic friends who are there for me every step of the way and who make even the most surreal and scary situations bearable. thank you guys - you know who you are!

besides all the crap that's happened we still had loads of fun and won't stop having it - life's too short to focus on the trees that fall in your way....

solitude

drinking tea on the terrace, admiring the landscape
not taking off my pyjamas for half a day
not wearing make up
having tousled hair
not checking the time
not wearing a bra
soaking up the sun

reading for hours on end

writing down anything and everything

making coffee after having had tea
talking to my dog
swimming in the lake
eating whenever I fancied

watching the sunset
staring at an undefined point in the distance and letting thoughts glide across my mind like clouds in the sky
going to bed early
waking up early
having no plans at all
not talking to anyone
thinking about and missing dear people
making plans for the future
daydreaming
enjoying the rain

gorillas are protected animals!

the dream team - before

finally, after weeks of planning, or rather thinking about it, we set off last weekend to climb the karisimbi. it’s the highest mountain in Rwanda, and a volcano. 4,507 metres above sea level. from the initial 10 people interested in going it ended up being just my neighbour, my housemate and I. we left kigali on friday afternoon in a samurai with two backpacks, a paraglider, two tents, day packs and a bag full of food. naturally the space was cramped, but it’s cosier that way, right?

we arrived in ruhengeri just after sunset only to discover that they had not noted my reservation… which ended up being a bonus as they gave us one of their double rooms for the price of the dorm, plus one bed in the dorm. we had dinner – a rather desolate buffet – and a couple of beers to toast to linn’s 30th. by 9pm we were curled up in bed thinking that we had to get up before six to be at the tourist office by 7am. turned out we didn’t have to be there before 9 – customer service and the giving of accurate information is not the strong point of the tourism industry here.

after coffee and breakfast we went over to the tourist office to register, meet our fellow hikers and our guide for the two day trip. there were about 10 of us – some in shoes that made my feet hurt just thinking about the walk ahead of us. and I seriously doubted they were going to make it; funnily enough one of those people ran up that mountain like it was a walk along the beach. sometimes you simply can’t trust first impressions :-)

we got in the car to drive to the point of departure. it was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, we could see the volcanoes around and we were in good spirits. with U2 playing on the stereo we happily bumped along the road towards the entrance of the national park when suddenly the music stopped, then came back, stopped again. and then suddenly there was this smell of burnt plastic in the car and seconds afterwards smoke started steaming out of the ventilation on the passenger side. we immediately stopped the car, worried that it had all gone to pieces. on inspection we discovered that what had burnt was a bunch of cables clearly feeding the radio… bugger. no more music. oh well – at least the car was still running. so we carried on, without music this time.

the summit - seen from base camp

and once the car was parked and the porters hired – everyone speculating what the heck these mzungus were bringing in this ginormous backpack (the paraglider) – we started walking. the walk took us through fields and then into the national park, through forest, swampy meadows, past waterfalls and back into a different kind of forest; all the while the sun was shining and the spirits were high. after about 4 hours we arrived at the base camp; at 3,600 metres. there was a little shelter there and we had just stepped foot into it when it started raining. after a little rest and some food we set up our tents and then proceeded to make coffee on the fire. I am not normally a nescafe person, but hell, this cup tasted sooooo good! for dinner we made noodle soup to the great envy of everyone else. and since we had planned to start walking at 4am the next morning to arrive at the summit early enough for urs to attempt to fly down we crawled into bed by about 7.30 that night. sleeping in altitude is not easy, add to that the constant babble of the porters sat round the fire only a few metres from our tent and the incessant, offensive snoring of the polish guy at the other end of the camp – I didn’t sleep much at all. at 2am I surfaced feeling starved, so I ate a mars bar and turned round again, to no avail. by about 3am I decided it was better to get up and make some coffee to warm up before the ascent.

sunrise half way up the mountain

sitting by the fire at 3am waiting for the water to boil listening to the murmured conversations of the porters who were baking spuds in the embers and staring at the starriest sky I had seen in years was magical. again, the coffee tasted divine and I thoroughly enjoyed this last hour before the march, just sitting under the canopy of stars, knowing that what was ahead was going to be hard work and yet excited about it.

at 4 our small group, linn, urs, olivier and pascale, the porter for the glider and a couple of other porters, an armed guard and myself trudged off into the pitch black, our steps illuminated by our torches only. the terrain was steep and quickly turned into a challenge, climbing over tree trunks and roots, over rocks and mud, up, up, up. and yet, the fact that it was pitch black made it easier. you had to concentrate so hard on where you were stepping that you barely had time to think about how far you’d gone, and how much farther you had to go. about half way up the summit the light started creeping in over the horizon and we saw a beautiful sunrise over the bisoke, gahembe and sabyniyo (the chain of volcanoes of the virungas). the poor porter carrying the glider kept having to stop because the load was getting heavy in these altitudes. and all the while he must have wondered what the hell it was he had to carry up the mountain. most people thought it was a party tent. eventually we broke through the tree line and from there it was mossy with only some shrubbery and a cold wind started blowing over the sides of the mountain and we were walking in the clouds. eventually even the moss and shrubs stayed behind us and the terrain turned rocky, in some places we could even see snow – the first snow I’ve seen in almost 2 years… and then we reached the summit.

less than 100 metres from the summit

I met linn up there and she said that the weather wasn’t good enough for urs to fly. I felt sorry – both for him and for his porter. imagine heaving the shoot up there and then having to carry it back down… the summit was nothing special; some half finished radio station with masts and satellite dishes and heaps of rubbish crowned it, and because of the abysmal weather we couldn’t see a thing. the wind was of the icy all-penetrating kind and after a couple of swigs of water and some cake mixed with peanut butter we packed up again and started the descent. urs decided to try the flank of the mountain, a bit further down to see whether the wind would be less strong and permit a jump. so he took his porter and headed off in a different direction. we were walking down and just talking about him, hoping he could jump off, when we suddenly saw him fly out from behind the mountain. the porters were dumbstruck, quite possibly never having seen anyone paragliding off the karisimbi, or any other Rwandan mountain for that matter. we all watched in awe, took pictures and celebrated. the porters kept running down the mountain to the next opening in the trees to follow his flight with their eyes. once the guy who’d carried the shoot joined our group again they didn’t stop talking about it, excitedly.

the porter with the problem :-)

urs - flying. (the little speck in the clouds)

on the way down we met the rest of the group still climbing up. many of them looked exhausted, from the terrain, from the altitude. the added bonus of having walked up in the pitch black was that now we actually got to see where we’d walked past before – it was beautiful.

once back at the camp we had a warm breakfast – weetabix and muesli with warm milk and fruits, relaxed a bit, packed our stuff up and then by the time the others came back we were ready to climb down the rest of the way. I have never been a fan of walking down and even though the second half wasn’t so bad it still exhausted me. walking down is a mental challenge for me – it makes me incredibly grumpy. on the one had I find it infinitely more exhausting for the legs, and on the other hand it is hard because there simply isn’t anything to be gained from walking down. no summit to be reached, no achievement to be done. and the thought of a shower isn’t enough to motivate me. on top of that my knee started hurting really badly and turned every step into agony. the last two hours were by far the worst of the entire hike. on top of that it had started chucking it down with rain about half way and I was soaked to the bone, dragging my feet through the mud, getting heavier by the minute. luckily my shoes held tight and at least I didn’t have wet feet.

when we finally climbed the wall and exited the national park I was close to tears from pain and exhaustion. and we still had to walk back through the fields and the village to get to the cars. not only was I tired and cranky, but now there were also the kids saying good morning at 4pm and asking for money. at one point I walked past this group of kids lying by the wayside offering me to buy a gorilla for 500. at this point it is worth noting that where we’d hiked is where dian fossey was living with the gorillas; we almost walked past her house and grave. I turned round, gave them a stern look and said: ‘gorillas are protected animals. you don’t sell them!’ honestly thinking they were trying to sell me a live gorilla for 500 bucks. it was only then that I saw that they had little drawings of gorillas which they were trying to sell for 500 amafaranga…

the dream team - after.

about rain

I still remember when I announced to my friends that I was moving to england for at least 3 years. their reaction was overwhelmingly: 'why england? it rains there all the time!'
the first month I was there the sun never stopped shining and overall it wasn't half as bad as anticipated. no worse than other parts of northern europe.
having said that, it is also true that when it rains in england, it sometimes doesn't stop for weeks on end, a continuous curtain of water dribbling from the heavens to the earth - and that really does get on your nerves a lot. (although it also has the nice side effect that the island is one of the lushest I've ever seen!) everything is damp and cold, your clothes take a week to dry properly after washing them, it's humid and often there's wind which makes the damp permeate your clothes, umbrellas are useless because they get gushed about by the wind. in short - there are times where you wish it would never rain again.

now the tables have turned. the climate in kigali is that of eternal european spring/summertime, never too hot, never too cold; light at 10 past six in the morning, dark at 10 past six in the evening - every day of the year. no seasonal change, just dry and rainy seasons. in my first year this meant there is the long rainy season which begins I think in february and lasts until may or june. then the long dry season which goes from may-ish to september-ish, followed by a short rainy season which goes up to november-ish and then dry again for a couple of months. however, the first year I was here rainy season meant a couple of hours of rain a day, and then usually dry for the rest of the day. very rarely was there what I have come to call an 'english day' - i.e. rain falling lightly but constantly all day long. during the dry season it would still sometimes rain - not every day, but still.

now - the rains stopped sometime in may and since then I can remember exactly 3 times that it rained. and only once was there one of those alleviating showers that wash the dust out of the air and off the plants, that cool down the air and leave you feeling fresh and energised; kind of like eating a slice of cold watermelon on a hot summer day. the other times it was little showers that stopped before they could do much.
it is also hot these days; not unlike british summer - but also close. it's a heavy heat that presses down on you, that makes you sweat even though you're sitting in a darkened office without moving, it's the kind of heat that curbs your appetite and weighs down your spirits. it won't let you sleep at night because it is everywhere, pressing in around you and weighing you down. in short, the kind of heat that makes you yearn for rain. and the most evil part of the day is when the clouds start doing the rain dance. they gather in the sky, the wind starts blowing and you can smell an edge of rain on its outskirts, there's that chilly edge to it which you welcome and cherish despite all the dust that comes with it. it makes you look up to the skies and assess the cloud colour, density and formation - and every day I think, today it will fall, today we will get respite. and a couple of hours later the clouds have dissolved and the heat is once again pressing in on you. and this, believe it or not, is when you actually wish you could go back to england for a couple of weeks and get a rest, enjoy the rain gushing on the windowpanes, the soil soaking up the water and turning it into green canopies and fields.

it should have started raining by now; the rains are late. people say it won't rain until october. in kenya they're expecting a drought until november. I think some people call it global warming, or climate change, or something. think about it.

guma guma!

I haven't been to a live open air concert in a long time; even before coming to africa. and I have to say I do miss it, a lot. so - the guma guma! party, a.k.a. 50 years primus anniversary was a no-miss event. (primus is one of the two local beers; and obviously they are celebrating their 50th anniversary this year)

the event was taking place at the stadium and VIP tickets cost 15 quid. this included VIP parking, free beer all night long and a snack pack. the line up probably means nothing to most of you - but I went mainly for p-square, two brothers from nigeria - and they're big here. the event was supposed to start at 3pm saturday. we turned up around 6 - which was still early; this is africa :-))

at that point they were holding the finale of what could probably be called 'rwanda's next superstar' on the stage. it reminded me a lot of the wednesday night at the appollo theatre in harlem.

basically primus had organised a bunch of roadshows across the country to identify the new talents and on saturday the last 5 contestants were fighting for the trophy (a cheque worth $ 2,500 - that's a LOT here). it was painful to watch; they were singing and dancing on stage one by one - and then the public had to vote by either shouting 'guma, guma!' if they liked them, or 'boooooh' to clearly booh them out. talk about public humiliation! they guy looking like michael jackson won - no surprises there.

being in the VIP section of the party was not what you would probably expect in europe at all; there was no fancy VIP lounge, no pretty waitresses and no goodie bags. there was, however, free beer all night long. only one type, sometimes it came cold, sometimes it didn't - but free all the time. it also came with a snack pack; which when we tried to get it the first time wasn't available - they had just run out. this is africa. the second time round we were more lucky - or so I thought. I opened the aluminium box only to find that its contents weren't half as exciting as I would've hoped. it contained the following: a napkin with a tootpick, a piece of baguette with blueband, a piece of chapati which tasted of old shoe and a fruit-flavoured samosa.

luckily my friend managed to smile his way to a few chunks of sausage and one mini-brochette; that kind of made the 'meal' bareable. but once again - we're in africa, sod it - wash it down with some free beer and get on with it.

once we'd finished our 'meal' the first international act - blu3 from uganda - came on stage. it's what you would call a girl group - 3 ladies all dressed in next to nothing which very tightly enveloped their bodies. the music was ok - east african r'n'b - you've gotta like it! they kind of went on about 'have you ever been in love and have felt like you're in prison? this next song is called prison!' - 'have you ever been in love so much that you felt you could fly?' - so generally, a lot of singing about love which is what r'n'b is usually about.

after the girls had finished they gave us an impressive light show with the laser lights accompanied by a best-of-michael-jackson mix, 30 seconds of each great hit. people went mental. and then the main act of the night came on: p-square.

now - you have to have lived in east africa to know them I think. they're two brothers from nigeria and they sing songs like 'do me' and 'no one like u' - it's cheesy but it definitely grows on you after a while. again, you sort of have to like it really. it's like blue band, it's everywhere.

anyway - their show was quite good and we had a good dance and a laugh.

but the best part was really after the main concert; again, the break before the last group came on - and they played a few techno classics and again provided us with a rather impressive light show. for about 15 minutes it didn't feel like we were in africa at all; it was awesome, the starry sky, the lights, the music, the fact that there were enough people around us to create a good atmosphere, but not too many to make you feel claustrophobic - in short - that moment was WICKED!

shortly aftwards they brought on the last act; no idea what they were called; but they were about 35 people on stage and playing congolese rumba. after shaking our booties for 1o minutes we'd had enough and decided to leave the stadium after 6 hours to head out to get some dinner. I was phantasising about a greasy kebab place around the corner; but since that is not available here we went for steaks and burgers instead - not bad at half past midnight :-)) this is also africa - and it ROCKS!

be open to your happiness and sadness as they arise

last night I was chatting to a couple of friends about life and love - and somehow we got talking about these moments in life, where everything is just ticking over perfectly - there is no disturbance, no interference. generally you immediately get suspicious - think that a big disaster is just around the corner - anticipate it all blowing up in your face.

I guess it's kind of natural to think that because we are so conditioned to never quite trust life, always expect problems, obstacles and hardships to come to us - because if you just ride the wave of happiness the crash will be too hard, and don't be fooled - crash you will.

I have spent many years of my life living like that - missing out on the perfect moments in life because I was looking for the imperfections. and guess what - unless you jump without fear of hitting the ground, you will never know what it means to really fly.
not so long ago I finally, and for the first time in life, actively pushed off the cliff and jumped, arms spread out wide, smiling and flying like I've never flown before. it was the most intoxicating experience in my life so far; the best thing ever - and as soon as I decided to ride the wave, let go and fly high for a short while my life was simply perfect. and I mean perfect in the sense of everything lined up perfectly - it was like the perfect domino chain - each piece hit the next one and they all fell down in a perfect line. and for the first time I managed to not question any of it - rather, I just accepted it, said thanks and enjoyed it.

of course I crashed, hard. ouch. it was painful, it was intense, but guess what: it was totally worth the flight. I believe life is always perfectly balanced - so of course when you are intensely happy, you will also be intensely sad. but the principle of embracing whatever comes your way also works both ways. and so I learnt that if you let the pain wash over you, absorb you, possess you - if you give in to it - just as you should with the happiness - it is intense, but it goes away much quicker. resistance only drags it out and ends up making it more painful.

so I guess what I want to say is that you should not question your own happiness too much; you should definitely not be scared of falling and crashing - you'll miss the flight. rather, open your eyes, tell you fears to go fish, and enjoy the journey wherever it may take you.

at the dentists

well - after a year and a half in africa I couldn't put it off any longer; I had to get my teeth cleaned. not that I don't clean them twice a day myself - but after millions of cups of tea and coffee and other tooth staining substances I didn't like my smile so much anymore. so I got an appointment yesterday.

it's a dental clinic run by a philippino woman and it has been recommended by several people; however, as a dentist's daughter I had my reservations - but unless you actually bite the bullet you won't get anywhere, right? and besides - I could've always gotten up and walked had I felt it necessary. and to be honest a couple of times I wanted to.

anyway - the 'clinic' is located in shopping centre, in space at the far end of the corridor. the waiting room consists of a few modern plastic chairs and a reception desk made from the typical cheap wood varnished dark. the girl at reception is very nice and she made me fill in a form asking about allergies, whether I'd had heart or liver problems in the past. that was quite comforting. there were even magazines to read whilst waiting; mainly on alaska - I started an article on vets who volunteer at that big race, the name of which I've managed to forget already.

when she said that the dentist had gone out for lunch but should be back shortly I got nervous, but in the end I waited only about 5 minutes - wow. the chair was behind a partition, again, made from this cheap wood and it doesn't reach all the way to the ceiling - so if you're having painful surgery done everyone will hear it all. now that must be comforting for those in the waiting room. but then again, the concept of privacy here is simply different. the chair looked fairly modern, the dentist dressed in a white coat and wearing a mask - so far, so good. he bade me sit down and gingerly tied the serviette round my neck - from there he proceeded to stick the one-way sucking tube into the machine, bent it to the right angle and asked me to hold it in my mouth. that was when I thought: 'you are not seriously going to ask me to do my own sucking?!?' he didn't - the assistant turned up shortly after.

and so they got started and proceeded to scrape the dirt of my teeth with a scaler - now, picture this: I'm lying on a chair with the dentist sticking a scaler and the little mirror in my mouth, the assistant has the sucking device swirling around in my mouth to add to the commotion - and he seriously starts up a conversation with me... 'so, where are you from?' - I nearly choked on the water and spit and instruments all coming together in my mouth - so I sat up, spit into the little sink. he asked me if I was ok - I said, yes, I am - I just can't talk to you...
so the rest of the cleaning proceeded in silence. it took forever and a day and the sound of the scaler travels through your teeth into your brain - not the most relaxing experience. still, I had my eyes closed to avoid the water from the operation and tried going to my happy place. but that was constantly interrupted by the assistant who every so often would drift oft to her own happy place and as a result the sucking device would spend minutes stuck to my tongue, or to the inside of my cheeks, or poking my gag reflex, the water running down my throat or simply down my chin - so every now and again I had to take her hand and re-position the device.


but all in all he did a good job and after just over an hour the scaling was finished. now - the way I'm used to teeth cleaning this is the point at which they 'brush' your teeth with that little rubber thingy and some powerful toothpaste. this hasn't reached here yet. instead he took a small gauze, generously smeared the paste on it and then proceeded to rub my teeth with it. if you have a moment try it - just take a small piece of cloth, put some earthy tasting paste on it and then try and reach your molars with it. I was worried I was going to choke, he was pulling my lips in all directions, rubbing that cloth up agains my teeth claiming that this was helping the whitening process. whatever - it was mainly unpleasant and tasted foul.

but the result is nevertheless a sparkly smile.

erasmus 2.0 - or the perpetual balancing act

a while ago someone described our expat life as an 'erasmus 2.0' suggesting that we were some kids having the time of our lives, enjoying living in big houses, driving posh cars and generally oblivious to the reality around us.

when I had first heard this I got pissed off - how could someone say a thing like this? we are not oblivious to what's going on around us; we don't export our reality to a different country just for kicks; we don't just come here, earn tons of money and have a great time without thinking twice about all the luxuries we can buy for money here - even though we do this also. at the same time I think most of the expats here are well aware that they will not be able to save the world singel-handedly; but you can always try :-) so really, you have to try to balance between nurturing your illusions for which you originally (hopefully) came out here and the acceptance that you will never stop being european, american, whatever you are - and that side of you has to be nurtured too. and I can see how people could think that you are here on an extended action holiday, I guess what has been called erasmus 2.0.

and there is, I guess, a kernel of truth in it - for instance - we threw this party last weekend in honour of swiss national day - it was fancy dress and included typical swiss games such as wrestling and an africanised ski race, alphorns, and other fun things. it was a lush garden party with plenty of food, drink, music and fun. and of course by the end of it no one was in any state to do anything about the mess; so as is usual we walked away from it - we could deal with it the next day. only by the time I woke up and was ready to take a look at the extent of the mayhem my gardener had collected all the empty bottles and put them on the table on the terrace, he had cleared away all the crap, moved the chairs back up onto the terrace - in short - there was practically nothing left to do. I felt bad - it wasn't his job; I can clean up after myself, but I'm going to be honest: I was also chuffed - what a luxury, and one that I would certainly miss.

so I guess evil tongues could call it erasmus 2.0 - I would rather call it self-preservation, going to your happy place from time to time, charge your batteries to be able to confront the harsh realities outside the walls of your compound over and over again and to never stop trying to make this world a better place.

where are you from? and does it really matter?

living the life of an expat can be a lonely affair - or so I thought. it actually doesn't have to be - it depends on what you make of it. one of the aspects I love most about this life is the fact that you meet people from all sorts of places, backgrounds, personalities and philosophies. and it makes you question your identity over and over again; brings out different shades of grey every day, does away with stereotypes whilst it reinforces them too - the world really isn't black and white.

and so I have spent most of my time here speaking spanish for instance; totally adapting to the spanish spanish accent to the point where I like it - I used to think it was harsh and spanish people prentencious. the ones I've met here are neither.

and so I have also participated in my first 4th july celebration. in rwanda, 4th july is liberation day; in the US it's of course indpendence day. the american friends I have here organised a big moto polo tournament followed by a pig roast. who would've thought that I would participate in an american patriot celebration? well, certainly not me. but here we go - it's really just another excuse to have a party ;-)

and in the same vein, we are organising a party in celebration of 1st august - swiss national day this coming saturday. who would've thought that I would be involved in organising a swiss fancy dress party involving typical swiss games? well, certainly not me. but here we go - it really is an excuse to have another party. and it also an excuse to share your identity, or at least that one part of it, with your friends; to transmit some of the things that you have grown up with, that have shaped you.

this is the fascinating thing about living abroad - you assimilate traits from the people who surround you, the cultural limits become blurry - to be fair, culture is too often used as an excuse for all sorts of differences and similarities anyway - and at the same time being far from 'home' makes you reconnect. at least for me it has been this way. on the other hand the question arises whether what you remember as 'home', what you think is 'swiss' (or any nationality you like for that matter) really is that. and now we're venturing into the depths of identity, memory, culture and all the powerful paradigms this brings with it. I will not explore this in detail here; but think about it - it's interesting!

on intentions and outcomes - of men and women

don't worry - this is not going to be one of those spiritual essays on how your intentions shape your outcomes and how that leads you to true love. but it's true - sometimes even the best intentions can backfire and get you into trouble; and being a white woman in africa - well, it's that - but for once I got one of them back ;-))

on our way back from kibuye we got on one of the comparibly big government buses. it was luxury compared to the other means of transport we had been forced to use - and as happened many times on that trip - as soon as we commented on something that was finally going well, it f'd up. I think it was about 20 minutes after I said this is the best bus journey we've had so far... we're about 20 minutes outside of kigali - it's getting dark and we're looking forward to being home, having a shower and going out later. then there's this 'clock, clock' noise and a lopsided bumping feeling to the bus. we had a flat tyre... argh. we get out and stand on the side of the road watching the spectacle unfold. they get the key to loosen the screws on the wheels. this involves several men discussing, giving orders, finally one starts jumping on the handle of the key to have more leverage to loosen the screws. then they start the engine and drive the bus onto a rock. by that point I gave up hope thinking - how on earth are they going to get the wheel off and the replacement wheel on? don't they have a jack?
I called my friend to come and rescue us. I explained to her which road we were on and roughly where I thought we were. it should have taken her 30 mins max. round about the time she should have turned up the bus was miraculously fixed (you should never loose faith when in africa) and pulled out - without us. to add to all the trouble my phone had run out of battery so I had no way of communicating with my friend who was freaking out along the road. eventually this man explained that we were further away from the city than what I'd told her - and after another hour or so of standing by the side of the road in the pitch black, surrounded by random strangers who no doubt just wanted our money, our friend finally turned up and rescued us.

the morale of the story: the good idea of calling a friend to the rescue turned out to not be the best idea; just as well the country is relatively safe and luckily nothing happened to us standing on the side of the road wearing a headtorch to make ourselves recognisable...

and now - of men and women. here men can be a right pest, not really knowing when to leave you alone. what european men often don't have enough, they have too much here - always commenting, hitting on you, trying their luck. it gets really tiring - and even if you're outright rude and explicit with them they don't get it.

so - the scene is evening rush hour traffic in kampala, my friend and I are standing on the side of the road with our backpacks after a long and dusty bus ride followed by a lox and cream cheese bagle in the 'new york kitchen' situated in a corner of an underground car park at the garden city shopping mall; nothing like eating a bagle in a cloud of unfiltered diesel fumes ;-)) we are waiting to be picked up by my friend with whom we're going to stay.
as is usual a boda boda (moto-taxi) drives by - ugandan boda-drivers are super cool; they all wear sunglasses and no helmets. he slows down, looks us up and down and goes 'taxi?' - we answer no and turn our heads in the opposite direction. he carries on driving whilst not taking his eyes off us. he is basically driving in one direction whilst his visual attention is focused in the opposite one.

we hear a BANG and then the sound of metal scraping the tarmac - and of course we turn our head in the direction of the noise. well, guess what? the boda driver was so busy looking at two dusty tired mzungu girls that he promply didn't see the pick up that was stood in the road - and went crash bang into it... the driver got up, holding his balls, swearing and recovering his bike which had slid across the road and onto the second lane.

my friend and I tried not to laugh; but tears were rolling down our cheeks whilst our bodies shook with laughter. serves him right!

the bertinchen chronicles – episode umpteen and one – or an encounter with the mythical elephant

well – the story continues. my friend arrived and for the first couple of days everything went exactly according to plan. we rejoiced in spending time together both slightly flabbergasted by the normalness that was being together; it took all of 3 seconds to adjust to physically being around each other again after over a year of separation.

I had planned it all out carefully and during the first week a visit of akagera national park was on the menu. it is nothing compared to the serengeti or the maasai mara but you can still see giraffes, zebras, gazelles and hippos – and let’s face it – you can’t take a trip to africa without at least attempting to see some of the wildlife. and so we spent monday preparing an incredible pic nic to take with us to the park; chilled the wine and got all our camping gear ready. we had thought of everything. on tuesday morning we loaded the car, took the dog to the sitter and set out on our road trip to akagera. I had already noticed that since the repairs on the car the gears were not going in as easily as before – but then again it is an old car and it drives a bit differently after each time at the garage; nothing to worry about I thought.

we arrived at the national park and parked the car with the engine running due to starting problems ;-) the guy took ages to work out the price we were supposed to pay but eventually we had our receipt and got back in the car. the ranger was telling me to be careful: the rogue elephant – a myth as far as I’m concerned – had been sighted in the direction in which we were going. if we did come across him we should slow down, reverse and get away; he has been known to have overturned cars before. I was a bit nervous at that but at the same time thought – well, nobody I know has ever seen that elephant – so chances are we won’t come across him either…

I smiled, thanked the guy and proceeded to put the car in first gear to take off. but I can’t get the gear in. at all. nor second, nor third, nor reverse… I was stunned and an opera of swearwords went off in my head. but I have learnt not to lose faith that quickly and so I turned off the engine to see whether it made any difference. I think I managed to put in second gear. so I got people to push me to bump start the car. turns out the wheels were blocked (and yes, I was pressing the clutch all the way down). well – I think you can imagine what I felt like… being this close to the barrier and the wildlife and having a car that is supposedly working perfectly fine again after 10 days in the garage. the national park people called out a guy who knew a little bit about engines and he concluded that there was a problem with the ‘volant-moteur’ but that I should be able to make it back to kigali because the gears would go in as long as the wheels were in motion. right. so at least we didn’t need to get towed from almost tanzania.

the next morning I tried to do the rolling down the hill in neutral, then putting in second gear and jumping the car. didn’t work and I was stranded. I called my special friend at the garage who eventually put me in touch with the big boss who came and towed me personally. that afternoon – or was it the next day? – I went to pick up the car at the agreed time when the boss comes up to me saying: ‘madame, nous avons un grand probleme’ – I do not like hearing that sentence… well – to cut a long story short: turns out that they had indeed replaced my ‘volant-moteur’ – but the one they’d put in was not compatible with my car; something to do with the angle of the teeth. anyway – I had to go and recover the old part; this involved telling white lies and paying way too much for the other guy’s transport – and in the end they recycled the old part and put it back in the car. the boss was mortified and they did the entire reparation for free. so the next day I went to pick up my car and a wad of money – a nice feeling. the gears were sliding in like a knife through butter and it was pure pleasure driving the car.

by that time it was friday and of course we were not going to miss the big techno party. I’d even bought a new pair of high heels which I promptly showed off at the party; not without falling face-first on the floor due to a miscalculation in walking up a step. grated my nailvarnish off my toenails and provided a good laugh ;-))

later we wanted to go back home and of course the car wouldn’t start… so there we were, pushing the car to bump start it once more, me in high heels and pretty clothes… must have been quite a sight!
the next day we spent recovering, chilling out and cooking again for our renewed attempt at the national park planned for sunday. we had a good sleep, got up and breakfasted and proceeded to loading the car once again; we’re getting really good at this now. we drove off to akagera, paid for our tickets again – this time it was half price because of a promotion during the entire month of may – buy one get one free; or do they call it two for one? never mind. when we told the guy that four days earlier this promotion had not been on he told us that they got informed about it late… mmmh, nearly all of may late. this is africa.

we drove off and enjoyed the views of the lake and the general feeling of having finally made it to our destination; the gods were on our side again! I was trying to find the pic nic spot by the lake which we had been to last time and we were driving up this road and round the bend and – OH! not 10 metres away stood the mythical elephant bull, munching away on papyrus. I tried to say something but no words came out; I must have looked like a fish out of water. we were a bit confused as to what to do. the elephant seemed chilled enough and didn’t seem to take any notice of us – and yet we were scared that he might suddenly charge and attack. we took some pictures and then reversed away from him. so the path to our pic nic spot was blocked. oh well, never mind, we found another spot on the shores of the lake; parked the car nose down and settled down with a glass of nice white wine and a wonderful pic nic.

it got to about four pm and we decided it was time to head up the camp site, set up camp and settle down for the night; indulge on another glass of wine and game of backgammon by the fire. obviously the car didn’t start with the key so we rolled it down the hill and guess what? it didn’t jump. so we had the nose of the car almost in the marshes that lead up to the lake and couldn’t get the engine running. shit. but we’re strong girls and so we pushed her backwards to try again. it took all our strength to push her across the uneven ground and back up the slope to try again. and again it didn’t work. we pushed her back one last time – by that time sweating and aching. but we pushed and pushed and eventually deemed her far enough up the hill to try again. and again we failed. so there was bertinchen, right next to the water and of course now that we needed cars none were anywhere near us. we sat there wondering what to do. we kind of figured out that the spot where we were must be a hippo grazing spot. and sure enough just as we’d established that we could hear splashing and grunting. we both got scared… what if they come out now? it is round about the time when dusk starts settling down and the time when hippos are likely to emerge from the lake to graze… should we stay in the car? should we walk away from it? from the bush on the other side we could hear other noises and with the rogue elephant not far we were a bit worried, naturally. we phoned the park reception to ask them to radio the rangers so that they could help us push the car back onto the track where we could bump start it easily. in the meantime I walked up to the track to see if I could find anyone. it was like the opening scene of a horror movie: two people setting out for a night of camping, car breaks down, one leaves to get help and never comes back, the other one also gets eaten by the monster. we stayed together. the clonking noises we could hear turned out to be someone chopping wood. he didn’t speak neither English nor French; but luckily I could just about say ‘me having problem car’ in Kiswahili. and he could push… together we nearly got the car back onto the track. the last 5 metres were managed with the help of a couple of rangers that turned up. we bump started her and were on the road again. so far so good.

we arrived at the camp site just as the sun was setting; and it was just idyllic. the fire had already been lit – just as well as we should discover later; what I thought was kerosene turned out to be coca cola… that’s what happens when your cleaning lady stocks the coca cola bottle next to the kerosene jerry can where for months before there had been an old coke bottle filled with kerosene. so imagine the laugh I had when I was about to light the lanterns and by chance decided to smell the liquid first – I thought, that smells awfully sweet for kerosene…

the next morning we witnessed a beautiful sunrise, had fresh, hot coffee straight from the espresso machine in the embers of the fire and overall were looking forward to finding giraffes, zebras and any other animal we could find.
naturally we had to bump start the car. but now the engine randomly kept dying. by the time we got to the reception I was nervous and pissed off. we called out the park’s mechanic again who fiddled with the car for a good hour to conclude there was something wrong with the starter motor. they. had. just. fixed. that.
but he also concluded that if we went slowly and on low revs we should be able to make it back to kigali. we took a little detour to find the giraffes; and we did. it was magnificent. but too short.
we made it back to kigali all right and I took the car back to the garage. again. when the mechanic looked at it he concluded that the starter motor seemed fine, but that there wasn’t enough electrical tension to start the car; in short – something in the circuit is not working. and I bet you it’s the effing cables in the end.

so here we are again; the plan was to set out on the second road trip of the holiday tomorrow. this won’t be possible. so much for planning. and here’s to my friend who is currently achieving proficiency level in the crash course on African patience… pole pole. this is africa. and I love it. regardless.