Puncture

This week I had one of those experiences that, as you live through it, you are hoping you can remember some of the detail which made it seem such fun at the time.  I’ll see if I can do the event justice.  It was only a small thing really, but something about it got to me!

There I was, on my way to one of my schools, which is about 40mins away by moto.  Safari and I were heading down the Rusumo road (one of the reasons I love this journey so much is that over half of it is on tarmac – the only school I visit that involves a tarmac road!).  We were flying along and I was watching the world pass by.  I was enjoying watching the variety of people walking towards Kibungo (it was market day) with piles of goods for sale; basins full of tomatoes and mangoes, bikes loaded up with plantain...some people don’t seem to make it as far as market as stop to sell to anyone who wants to buy along the way (I always find this very useful if I am having to head in the opposite direction to the market!). After about 10mins, Safari pulled over to the side of the road.  We were next to a small row of houses/shops.  An exchange occurred between Safari and the people at the front of the shops and then he turned around and said “I am sorry Alice”  And then added something in Kinyarwanda that I did not understand.  The situation seemed grave, so I asked in my best Kinyarwanda “There is a problem?” “Yes – tyre”.  I looked down, and sure enough the tyre was flat.  Not surprising really given some of the terrain those wheels pass over!  I got off the back of the bike and Safari explained that he would get his friend to take me the rest of the journey and then he would collect me from the school later.  I said this was no problem at all and began to wait patiently by the side of the road for his friend to arrive.  I was thinking about how stressed this would probably make me feel if I was at home.  All the people I would let down, who would be cross that I had not arrived at work.  I did not get the same sense of panic here – I just got in touch with the head teacher and explained and he said it was no problem.  They would wait. He even laughed. 

Several negotiations took place over the phone and with the surrounding people. Then Safari said his wife was there and it would not take long to fix, so would I wait?  I said yes.  So he took me over to introduce me to his wife and it turns out it was his shop we were stopped next to – he knew all of these people.  We exchanged greetings all around and Safari’s wife told everyone who I was and what I did and then I tried to join in with the conversation (always keen to seize an opportunity to practise my language skills!).  I sat down inside the shop and she offered me a soda (I declined on account of the fact I was full of “Quaker”).  I quite enjoyed watching everything go on out on the main road – it is a busy road as it is the Kigali to Tanzania road.  Many people peered in as they passed as they had heard there was a muzungu hiding in the shop.  Several small children came to shake my hand and I had a brief exchange with an older man who came in for some tea and bread.

P4 learn to tell the time

A small child walked past chewing on some packaging.  This always strikes me as funny as I think about how much she is enjoying it and what we would do if a small child had plastic and cardboard packaging in their mouth at home.  This same child came into the shop with her mother and kept hiding behind her legs if I looked at her.  Eventually it became a bit of a game and we played together for a while until she left.  Then two young women came in and we had a chat about my work.
At one point I looked out to see there were nine men and a boy standing around Safari’s bike trying to fix the puncture.  Everyone was offering advice or lending a hand – one of the men came to get some matches from Safari’s wife and then I saw some flames from behind the bike- were they melting the rubber to fix the hole?  I did not ask.  The final tally of observers was 11 men, two boys and two women.  It struck me as being quite nice that this event had become such a community activity.  No one was in a rush to get off anywhere, they all had time to stop and exchange a few words or lend a hand.  So different to the hectic pace of life in many more developed countries.  Time really is different here.  Sometimes that is frustrating as I want to get things done.  Other times I quite enjoy it.  Another thing I learnt this week about time, is that many schools have a problem with students being late for the afternoon school session.  I was surprised by this – surely if your school day starts in the afternoon you have plenty of time?  But the Head teacher explained, patiently, that the families did not have clocks or mobile phones, so they did not find it easy to keep track of the time.  It is most likely that the children will have been out working the fields or doing other chores for the morning and then get delayed.

P6 students learning about Rwanda's physical features

And an explanation about time...here in Rwanda they use a different way of telling the time to the UK.  The day starts when the sun comes up, so 6am is effectively zero; 7am is one; 8am is two and so on...this leads to me counting up on my fingers when I want to arrange for someone to meet me at a particular time!

P6 students posing for the photo

Other interesting things I have seen this week include the fact that many schools have their own crops.  Many of them grow coffee and some also have bananas, pineapples and carrots.  The children help look after these crops (at the end of the year, the profit from the crops funds a school celebration) and in one school I noticed that as the children arrived they were towing huge bundles of banana leaves behind them.  The entire outside area was full of banana leaves.  There was no one around to ask at first, but at break time, I got a chance to see the reason...all of the children came out of the classrooms at the bell and headed towards the coffee trees.  They lay the banana leaves all around the base of the trees.  Why?  To stop the plants from drying out in the hot dry season we are now in and to hold as much moisture in the soil by providing shade.

As for the puncture, it eventually got fixed and I made it to the school without further incident. 

New addition to the household

In all the activity of the start of term there has been one other very exciting happening – a fridge has arrived!  Now, that makes it sound a little bit like it was a surprise, it wasn’t of course.  I thought long and hard about the decision to purchase a fridge.  It is a lot of money and it will also significantly bump up my electricity usage, and I have survived for over four months without one, so maybe I could live without it for two years...

I discussed the idea with other volunteers and weighed up the pros and cons.  It seems slightly at odds with what would happen at home.  If I lived without a fridge in the UK, surely I would be in the minority – everyone has a fridge, don’t they?  Here, it is the other way around.  Mine is probably one of only a tiny number of domestic fridges in the town.  I suspect that not even every bar or restaurant will have one, but people survive.

With all these ideas in mind and a check of the savings I made before I came away, I decided that it would make a significant improvement to my living conditions and that if I am going to be here for two years, it will be a huge benefit.  So, I went off to Kigali one weekend to make my purchase.  I had perused the aisles of Nakumatt several times and decided that their cheapest fridge would do for me.  On arrival, I found that an even cheaper version existed, so I decided to go for that.  It was slightly smaller and had only a very small ice box – but this should not matter too much.  I can’t buy any frozen goods and I am unlikely to want to freeze much.

With the money I had saved on the purchase, I decided I would look into the price of home delivery.  Upon a discussion of the cost of transporting my fridge to Kibungo, I, a) realised I did not know what my address was, or how to explain it to someone who did not know the town and b) that it was going to cost a small fortune to have it delivered.  I decided to pay to have it delivered to the VSO Office, as I had already discussed this option with my Programme Manager.  This was arranged and, at the end of November the fridge was delivered.  I then had to wait until the VSO vehicle was coming in my direction.  I thought this was easy, as I was moving house so I knew they would be coming to collect furniture.  Unfortunately the timings did not work out like this and so I did not get my fridge until last week when VSO were in the area.



Frida the fridge

It now sits proudly in my kitchen and I am very pleased to have it there.  In the space of only one week I have already noticed a difference.  I can keep food for more than one night without worrying about it making me ill if I eat it.  Previously, I would put the left-over food in a Tupperware box and put a small amount of cold water in a basin and then sit the Tupperware in that to keep it cool.  I’ve survived so far, but I have not been keen to stretch the food to three days, which means sometimes food is wasted.  Something I feel guilty enough about at home, but even more so here.  Also, I often end up buying too much at the market and the food does not keep.  Or, if I am away at the weekend I miss the Saturday market and so food I buy on the Wednesday does not last for a week and I have to throw food away.  This week, I was able to go to the market once and store everything in the fridge and it is still in good condition.  I was also able to chop all my fruit up to make a fruit salad that I can tuck into when I get peckish.  This has cheered me up no end!  And my UHT milk, which would previously spoil quite quickly in the warm weather, now lasts forever in the fridge.

So, all in all it has been a great purchase.  I am thinking of the items I may be able to get in Kigali and then keep in it – cheese for one.  And butter!  And maybe even...white wine!  I am still to work out where I can get fresh milk from – that would be an enormous bonus as I miss a nice cold glass of milk.

Back to school

Returning to school has prompted me to further consider the differences that exist between education here and in the UK.  The differences can be easy to spot, but the reasons behind them are not always so apparent.

It has been nice to go into schools knowing some faces – the first term I was here I felt like I knew no-one, but now that I am returning to the same schools on my visits, I am slowly getting to know people.  It is comforting when this happens and makes you feel like a more permanent and useful article.  In some of the staffrooms I have been in this week, several teachers have given me a hug, like they would an old friend.  I saw quite a few of the teachers in the holidays – this is when most training sessions are held, and so we ran a few sessions and each school sent representatives.  It amazes me that teachers turn up to these events – not because I think the training is not worthwhile – but because there is no financial reward for such attendance.  At most sessions we manage to negotiate funding from either the District or VSO to provide a fanta and mandazi for each participant – hardly a huge reward, but it seems to work!  Teachers want to learn new ideas and improve their methodology.  I have already mentioned in a previous post how teachers work very long days in primary school that includes a double shift of students.  Starting wages are 26 000 RWF (about £26) per month, although the good news is, that MINEDUC are hoping to considerably increase this in the next few months and teachers can also augment their pay if they have certain qualifications.  Many teachers attend university in the evenings and at weekends.  I am exhausted after a week in school – I can’t imagine passing up my weekend in order to study hard.

As I have been meeting the teachers and Head teachers at this start of the new academic year, I have received several requests for training.  Some of these I have managed to weave into my school day so that we will run short training sessions on matters ranging from; what makes a good lesson, and how to observe a lesson to; how to make and use visual aids.  However, such is the structure of the day and the pressure on teaching time that some head teachers have asked me if I can run training on Saturdays.  “But will people come?” I asked in surprise (knowing full well what my own response would be in the UK if someone so much as dared to suggest I attend training on my precious weekend) “Yes, of course” was my answer...We shall see what necessity brings.

There are no cover teachers in Rwanda; no system of supply teachers on-call waiting to hear where they might be sent that day.  My timetable in each school is shaping up to enable me to team plan and team teach with three teachers and then to run a short English Club or training session at the end of the (my) day in school.  In the time that we plan, a class are without a teacher.  In many schools the Director of Studies, or another teacher who has fewer lessons will cover this class.  In some schools it requires that the students be left to study alone.  They don’t run riot; they might come and stare at the muzungu out of curiosity, but on the whole you will find them working in huddles and getting on with something.  There is no health and safety requirement that an adult be in the room just in case anything goes wrong.  I am impressed that these children care so much about their education and understand the fact that they need to get on with it.

The team teaching is done with teachers who attended my training in the holidays and who I am hoping will continue my work when I am finished.  This means that we have also offered the opportunity for other teachers to come and observe the lessons we teach in order to gain ideas and share good practice.  Again – this would mean some classes may be left unsupervised.  But what can you do?  There is no spare money to pay for a spare teacher and teachers are working at capacity as it is.  But we want teachers to share in what we are doing, so we invite them to watch.

Back to health and safety.  I think of the maze of forms and rules and regulations that exist in the UK...here building takes place in the middle of the school in order to erect new (and desperately needed) classrooms.  No barriers enclose the work and bits of material lie around.  Children are just sensible enough to avoid it.  In one school a broken pane of glass was lying on a desk in the classroom.  It was a substantial size – about 30cm wide and 20cm high with a very jagged edge.  A student was given the piece of glass and asked to dispose of it.  At home I would never dream of asking a student to do such a thing – I probably wouldn’t even move it myself – imagine the palaver if a cut were to occur?!  I have also noticed that many children bring their hoe to school.  I’m not sure yet if this is because they have come straight from cultivating a field, or if they are doing some cultivation in one of their lessons that day (many schools grow crops).  Imagine the uproar if a child walked into a school in the UK with a huge hoe!

I spent some time looking at some new resources in a school.  There were some fabulous posters – full of colour and learning points.  Some of them had photographs of objects on and a group of teachers stood around discussing these.  I realised how many of these posters and other teaching materials are made in far more developed countries.  Children here may never have seen grapes (G for grapes) or a doll, or a yo-yo and as for a quiver...I think even students in the UK would struggle with that one (what happened to Q is for queen?).  I am now determined to get hold of a yo-yo to show the teachers this wonderful toy – packages to the usual address please!

Looking at the poster also opened up an interesting conversation about the confusing pronunciation of some words in English.  We discussed why schools now often teach children the phonetic alphabet – much easier to pronounce jug or jump that way.  We had a bit of fun practising this on the words on the poster and looking at long and short vowel sounds.  It makes you think about your language in a way you may never have done before (I certainly hadn’t considered these things).

And as in countries everywhere, the new school year is a chaotic and busy time.  In the UK we allocate the first couple of days of most terms as TADs (Teacher Availability Days – so no students, just staff).  This gives time for teachers to get settled and prepare for the onslaught of a new term and all that it brings.  Here, the students arrived on the same day as the staff – teachers would have to arrive in the holidays if they wanted extra time.  I can see why they may not – they work extremely long hours all term.  Many live some distance from school and could have had a long walk.  They probably have family and farms to look after before and after work.  They must be shattered.  Also – it is taking the students a while to get back into the swing of things and full numbers have not turned up.

I have witnessed some interesting discussions; one where a parent wanted a Head teacher to give permission for her daughter to switch school.  She lived closer to another primary and to get to this one she had to pass the house of a relative, which meant she often made it no further and spent the day there instead of at school.  Another parent was there requesting that his son was kept back a year and not promoted to the year above as he felt he was struggling too much.  This request will not happen, and I suppose with resources as tight as they are, it is unlikely the services of support teachers etc will be offered as they would in the UK.

So far, I have not had to sit through any lengthy meetings on data – something that always came hand in hand with the start of a school year at home.  I have not been given a bundle of data to analyse and comment upon.  This may well happen at some point as exam results are often handed over to Education Leadership Advisors, but that role is vacant here, so I may get to see it.  The only data I have seen so far was on a school blackboard and it showed exam results by year group and then a list of school drop outs with columns headed with titles such as “moved”, “other”, and the rather sad “demises”.  I discussed the difference between numbers of male and female drop-outs with the Head teacher.  In this particular school the numbers were very, very small and there was not a noticeable difference between boys and girls, which is encouraging.

And, finally, it has been lovely to get back on the moto for some of the beautiful rides to schools.  And to see the smiling faces and feel the happy vibes that the children give off.  I certainly never received a reception quite like it in the UK.  I have spent the week surrounded by crowds of children and have shaken more hands than I can count.  I have practised my (still poor) Kinyarwanda.  In some schools there are a few older students with a lot of confidence, who will ask me questions in English like “Where are you coming from?” or “What is your name?”  When I say my name, they all repeat it back to me.  Maybe eventually I will arrive in a school to be greeted by cheers of “Aliceeeee!” rather than “Muzungu!”  It’s nice to be back and I am looking forward to working with the staff and students this term and starting to feel useful, rather than merely an observer.

Azizi Life experience

Azizi Life are an organisation (azizilife.com) that exist in order to help develop communities within Rwanda.  They work by providing links for certain communities to share their lives and products with people around the world.  Apart from selling handicrafts, they also offer the opportunity to share a day in the life of one of the communities.  We attended one such day in Muhanga and it provided a real insight into the daily lives of many people in this country.

We were lucky enough to have a later start to our day than the people we were visiting.  We met at the Azizi Life office at 8am and after a brief introduction, we got on a minibus and headed out along some extremely bumpy roads to the village.  After about 20mins we stopped and were directed down the hill.  We followed the path and after a few minutes we were met by a group of women.  We received a very warm and enthusiastic welcome - plenty of hugs and laughter.  We were then divided into two small groups of 4 plus a translator and were taken into the homes of the ladies.  Our host for the day was a lady called Angelique and her husband Vianney.  We began our day together wih a song and a prayer, then it was off to pick up a hoe and head to the plot of land they were cultivating.  The land needed preparing for the new crop that would be planted.  It was hard work, and the sun was shining down on our backs meaning we soon worked up quite a sweat - especially since we had ibitenge (cloth) provided to wear over our own clothes to keep our clothes protected. 


The girls hard at it

We were shown how to use the hoe so that our hits on the ground had greater impact, although I found the technique a little tricky to pick up.  I was much better when it came to learning how to pose on your hoe and take a rest.  After an hour, we had worked our way up the slope and completed the field, so we were allowed to stop.  We were then shown how people might cook food for themselves if they are working a long way from home.  This involved building a small clay oven and lighting some dried vegetation inside, once it gets hot enough you can place potatoes inside.  Then the oven is smashed down into the ground and the potatoes are left to cook in the heat of the earth.  After some time they are ready to eat and apparently quite delicious.  I wonder if this is the reason behind the plumes of smoke I sometimes see on hills in the distance each day?


Lighting a potato fire

Our next activity was the collection of firewood.  We returned our hoes and replaced them with an axe and headed down the slope to a wooded area.  A tree was selected and one of the women began chopping away quite effectively with the axe.  I was called upon to take my turn and managed to hit the same spot about twice and merely did a good job of hacking at the tree.  We all tried our hand and were then shown up by one of the local children, who seemed to have done this before (that's my excuse...).  As we waited for the trunk to be cut into manageable chunks, we were shown how to make a "doughnut" for our heads out of a banana leaf - we could then balance the load on top of this.  Making the doughnut proved harder than carrying the log on our heads!

Look! No hands!

We then collected a scythe and headed off to fetch some grass for the two cows that Angelique and Vianney have living in their house.  This was a relatively easy task and we bundled up the grass, popped the bundle on our heads and walked back to the house. Brown and Black (the cows) seemed pleased with our efforts.  By now it was quite warm and all this activity was making me a little tired, but there was not time to stop - we needed to go and fetch water.  We all picked up a jerry can and walked down a steep and windy path to the well.  We sat around chatting whilst a young child pushed our cans in and out of the flow of water in order to fill them up.  She was able to heft large cans of water that I found heavy, yet she was only 6 years old.  We were amazed by her strength and practical nature compared to what we woyuld expect of a 6yr old at home.  We carried the cans back to the house a bit wearily.  At this point you begin to appreciate why no one in Rwanda feels the need to go for a run every day and why my efforts have so far drawn so many astonished looks - daily living is more than enough physical activity. 

Whilst we waited for lunch to be ready (one of the group stays behind to prepare food whilst the others do the mornings work), we sat on a mat outside the house and shelled some beans which had been hung up outside the house to dry.  This was a therapeutic activity and offered us the chance to talk to the women, who answered all our questions and encouraged the children to sing for us too!  We were quite shocked to learn that no one here eats breakfast - lunch is the first meal of the day, so all of that hard work had been done on an empty stomach.  I don't think I could have managed to do it without breakfast.  We then had what felt like a very well deserved lunch - beans and potatoes and plantain and avocado.  It tasted very good.  After this we were allowed to have a brief lie down on the sleeping mat - I had to try very hard not to fall asleep, but my new friend Alice was making me laugh, so this kept me fairly alert!


Alice's

The afternoon acitivity was much more laid back.  the ladies taught us how to weave some of the products that they make for sale.  We learnt how to make earrings out of sisal fibres.  We paired up so we had one-on-one tuition and Alice quickly showed me how it was done.  She seemed to work much faster and neater than I did, but I got the hang of it and after an hour we had managed to produce a pair of earrings.  The weaving provided us with another opportunity for discussion and there was a lot of chatter and laughter around the mats as we worked and talked together.


The pair of earrings we made!

At the end of the day, we all said our goodbyes and went back up the hill to find our minibus.  We were all exhausted but agreed that it had been an excellent day.  As well as finding out what daily life is like for some people in Rwanda, we learnt new skills and made new friends with the women who welcomed us so warmly into their homes for the day.  Well done to Azizi Life for setting up this kind of cultural tourism - it is a far more interesting and engaging way to learn how other people live and much better then any museum experience or book reading can offer.

Do they know it’s Christmas time?

The next part of my adventure was deciding to spend Christmas in Zanzibar.  I was worried that Christmas would be a lonely time and a stark reminder of family and all that at home.  Surely Christmas in Zanzibar would be so far removed from Christmas at home that I would not feel lonely?  This proved to be a sensible idea and the distraction of sun, sea and sand worked very well.

The first journey of the adventure was travelling up from South Africa.  I got a flight from Durban to Jo’burg and then an onward flight to Nairobi.  From Nairobi I was flying straight to Zanzibar.  As I sat waiting at the airport, the flight time began creeping further and further away from the original departure time.  Eventually, two hours later, a steward arrived in the departure gate and said “There is a problem”.  Silence all around.  “The plane is too small.  We cannot take your luggage.”  This time the silence was replaced by angry shouts and much tutting but most of this was drowned out by my hysterical laughter.  Of course there was no room for luggage...why did I ever think things could be so straight forward?!  I was already slightly suspicious about whether I was ever going to see my luggage again anyway, as there had been a computer break down at Jo’burg that morning and after a 30min wait at the counter for them to fix it ended unsuccessfully, my bags were manually checked in.  So I was hugely reassured when we were then told, “We have put your luggage on the tarmac.  Maybe you need some emergency things – pants, toiletries and a spare t-shirt...please take them out of your bag and take them with you.  Your luggage will arrive on a flight by 10am tomorrow”.  I did indeed find my bag with its hand written tags lying on the tarmac and proceeded to zip off the top compartment which contained my toiletries, swim suit and pyjamas – and spare pants (of course).  I then boarded the plane.  It was a small plane with propellers.  There was a commotion at the entrance as the family who got on before me had seats reserved in aisle 16.  There were 14 aisles.  “Shame,” I said “but I am in row 1, so I shall go down there so I don’t get in anyones way”.  And so I did.  The seat was quite a funny one – I was facing the entire cabin.  The overhead lockers were very small and my two pieces of baggage took up two lockers.  “Is this OK?” I asked the cabin crew.  They looked at me oddly as if to say “why would it not be ok?”  “It’s just that there is no room left for other peoples bags”  “Don’t worry about other people, make sure you are OK” I was told.  So I did.

Eventually they managed to get everyone on to the plane.  The aisle seemed to have a lot of luggage in it that they somehow crammed away so that there was still room for the drinks cart to get through.  From our top viewing seats at the front, my seat partner and I were delighted to see we were going to be served first and were very amused by the tray tables we were given that slotted into our seats making the seat look something like a high chair.  Every time the plane climbed, we had to hold them in place as we were facing in the wrong direction!  After a couple of beers and some Starburst (courtesy of the English family sitting with me) it all seemed like good fun.  Upon landing there was a scrabble to complete visa forms and hand over sums of cash (there was no Christmas discount – but I did ask) and then I had to put in a claim for my bag and then I was delighted to be met by someone from the hotel I was off to.

I arrived at Maruhubi Beach Villas quite late and Karen and Jane had spent many hours waiting for me in the bar.  I encouraged them to have a couple more drinks (there was no arm twisting involved) and then we all toddled off to bed.  Next day we awoke to ridiculous humidity and a day of clouds.  And no luggage.  Day two was a bit the same only with more rain and this time my luggage arrived and I got myself some extra money by way of compensation.  The weather wasn’t what I had signed up for, but the hotel staff assured me it would improve and so it did, by day 3 we had lovely blue skies and hot weather and all we could do was flit between beach, sea and pool (we didn’t need to go to the bar as the bar came to us).  We spent a day out on an island where there are tortoises and we went snorkelling. 

View from Prison Island

We spent other days wandering in Stone Town and others on the beautiful beaches surrounding the island.  Christmas day was spent entirely by the pool except for a couple of hours when it got too hot and we retreated to our room to do some face masks and drink gin.  Our dinner was in the evening and it was a lovely buffet and as we ate we were entertained by some local dancers.

Getting into the Christmas spirit

It was so far removed from a Christmas in the UK that it wasn’t hard to deal with.  The weather was divine, the food was totally different, the scenery was stunning...and most of the people living in the area were Muslim.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day view

My last two nights were in a hotel in Stone Town.  It was a lovely hotel with a beautiful swimming pool in the courtyard area and I had a room that over-looked this.  It was an ideal location to explore the old town and then be able to get back home safely.  I ate out at the night street market and at a lovely Indian restaurant where I had a table with a great view and drank a couple of cocktails.  I spent hours wandering around the narrow windy lanes of Stone Town where no street ever led you to where you thought it might go and it took considerable time to get my bearings.  I enjoyed several fantastic cups of coffee and watched some spectacular sunsets from the roof of the hotel and from the terrace of the Africa House Hotel.

I was a bit sad at the prospect of ending my lovely holiday and coming home, but I had such a lovely time.  And I knew I was coming back to a new house, which was exciting enough and there would be an opportunity to unpack everything and settle in.  The journey home was far less eventful and me and my luggage made it all the way back to Kigali together.

Do they know it's Christmas time?  Who cares - look at this beach!

South African adventures.

Upon arrival in Cape Town, I had to find my back-packers.  This was a task that was made much more fun by the assistance of a friend I made on the train.  A girl I had been talking to who was also travelling alone, was being met by her cousin in Cape Town.  We had not seen each other for a few hours when we arrived at the station, but bumped into each other again on the platform and had a chat about our journey.  She then offered me a lift as she said her cousin would know his way around.  We drove around for a bit and then parked up and they insisted on walking me to the door of my hostel.  We exchanged numbers and made vague plans to meet at the beach, but I was so very grateful for their kindness.

The accommodation was lovely and not too far from the main town centre.  I dumped my stuff and went for a wander.  Most of the shops were shutting, so I wandered back in the direction of the hostel and stopped for a drink.  A very large mojito.  It was delicious, so I ordered another and a burger and got chatting to another lone traveller.  We parted company(although I was offered a night out on the tiles) and I went on for a brief bit of surfing in an internet cafe and then back to sit and read and relax just a little bit more (as if I wasn’t relaxed enough!).  I got up good and early and headed into town.  It was a beautiful hot day.  I browsed the shops and walked to the V&A Waterfront.  It was beautiful down there and there were stunning views of Table Mountain.  There was also some big yacht race about to set off, so the place was full of life.  I wandered around more shops and cafes and craft markets and then ate my lunch whilst watching the festivities.  I spent the entire day wandering around the city and didn’t make it to the beach.

Is it just me, or is that tree very out of place?

Next morning I got up and decided it was too hot to run already, so I walked as far as I could up Table Mountain.  I didn’t get far as it took an age to get out of the town but I made it up to the cable car station.  At this point I made the decision to head back as the mountain was obscured by thick cloud which did not look too inviting.  I went back down into the town for a final bit of meandering and eating then set out for the airport for my flight to Durban.  And who did I bump into at check in...my friend from the train!  She was getting a flight back to Jo’burg though, so that was the end of our travelling together.

I was most excited about getting to Durban and seeing Di – I hadn’t seen her for 3 years and life had changed a lot since then.  The flight was delayed and then we landed in a thunder storm – it was a bit dicey but there were stunning views of the lightening from above and below the clouds as we made our descent!  As I left the arrivals area, Di was there to see me.  She soon whisked me off to her car and we drove back to her house. 

It was late when I arrived so Di, Adrian and myself had a bit of a chat and then went to bed.  We were all up early the next day as Emily likes to get up by 5am.  Aren’t two year olds great?!  She was actually quite considerate and didn’t really disturb me until later.  She was very shy at first but soon warmed up and I got plenty of hugs and hand holding as the week went on. 

Just some of the wildlife we encountered on our runs!

The days all began to blur into one at this point as I was so into the holiday mode.  I dragged Di around lots of shops and was completely over excited about the variety of things I could buy.  The second day I was there, we went to a water park and I had great fun on the water slides – I even put myself through the trauma of going on the highest water slide in Africa.  You plunge 6 storeys in 3 seconds.  I had a huge wedgie at the end and made a most undignified exit from the pool.  It was quite exhilarating and seemed to impress Di's lovely nieces and nephews (who are possibly the nicest and politest children I have ever met)! 


That cheeky grin says a lot.

I completely over-indulged in white wine and fruit and yogurt and meat and chocolate and all the things I could get my hands on! Di and I even managed to get a few runs in around where she lives – it was very pretty but also hilly – which is not so nice!  I met lots of her family and friends and we did plenty of things other than shopping - swimming and duck feeding and trampolining, going to the pub, visiting Adrian's family and me having beauty appointments and dying my hair.  I even learnt how to do a classic temper tantrum from Emily!  Emily continued to get us up at the crack of dawn and just as I was getting used to it, it was time to leave.  I had the most wonderful time and it was so nice to catch up.  Di looked after me incredibly well.  Maybe, if they'll have me, I’ll make another trip to visit before I leave Rwanda or maybe they will even come to see me.  Maybe.

Premier Classe – it certainly was!

After a night in Jo’burg (where I made sure to test the quality of several cold white South African wines), I made my way to the train station for my train journey from Jo’burg to Cape Town.  I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect but the blurb sounded promising...5 course meals, fluffy bath robes.  So, I arrived 3 hours before departure and decided I would see if it was possible to sit in the lounge.  It most certainly was and my bag was taken from me and “checked in” with my berth number attached to it.  I was then instructed to sit down and relax and enjoy the food and drink on offer.  It’s a tough world.   I had a couple of sandwiches and lots of cake and some wine as I read my book and some of the magazines on offer.  30mins before departure, we were all led down to the platform in groups of about 15.  We were shown to our berths.  I was greeted by a typed name card on the door and a personalised letter with the journey itinerary set out on the table.  And my bag waiting for me too - a  good start. 

The train left on time and a steward called us all to the bar car where we were greeted with a glass of bubbly and some snacks (just in case there was a remote chance of us still being hungry!).  We then had an introduction to all the staff on board and the programme for our journey and there was an opportunity to book in for a beauty treatment (I had a foot massage).  In the early stages of the journey we passed through towns and cities and areas of farm land.  We passed commuters waiting on train platforms.  Then dusk came and all we could see from then on were twinkling lights in the distance.  So to the bar car to wait for dinner.  I had a drink with a couple of other passengers and then we were seated.  We shared a table.  The 5 courses were quite scrumptious and I was stuffed as I staggered back to my berth.  I arrived to discover that during my absence, a bed had been made up in my berth and the covers turned down.  I climbed in and was soon rocked to sleep by the gentle motion of the train.  I woke a couple of times in the night when the train made a of stops at various stations along the way.  I was up early for a HOT shower. 

During breakfast the scenery began to change and gave way to brown and yellow bush and scrub.  It was vast plains of nothingness.  I returned to my berth to find my bed tidied away.  Occasional vehicles raced alongside us on the roads and a couple of Ostrich ran with us for a while.  Sheep were lying around on hummocks and the blue sky provided a beautiful back drop to it all.  Then the scenery changed again to dramatic hills and mountains with vineyards nestled in amongst them. 

I sat and watched it all pass by during lunch – another beautiful offering.  I spent the last couple of hours in my berth enjoying watching it all pass by.  The staff on the train were wonderful and they couldn’t do enough to help.  The food was delicious and the whole experience was incredible.  I think when you consider value for money – a night of accommodation, transport to Cape Town and all that food it is superb value.  I am only left to wonder what on earth they offer on the ten times more expensive Blue Train?!

Observations from a plane seat

Over Lake Tanganyika – endless stretches of water.  Sandy coves and plunging hillsides.  Veins of vegetation stretch to the horizon under the cover of cotton wool clouds.  Small towns cling to the lake edge and sprawling urban areas spread close to the shores.  Dark green and light green, blue water with black patches, beige shores and white clouds.  The sparkling new plane interior gleams – seats are shining, cushions puffed, carpets bright.  Black shadows from the cotton wool puff clouds.  Cold. White.  Wine.   The cart rolls down the aisle...Macadamia nuts – yum!  Orange roads snaking the ground like string laid out on a page, wide rivers meander into the distance like flat grey/blue ribbons.  Enormous gleaming city sprawled below.  The cotton wool puffs gather up forming octopus tentacles which reach out and water vapour glides like smoke around the plane creating a hazy blur.  The trolley arrives – cold. White. Wine.  Ahhhh.  Glee on the tv – so out of place on this African flight.  How can people here begin to understand that this is an almost reality for some people in the world?  Thick blanket of cloud appears and the view is lost.  Gaps in the cloud blanket reveal blobs of green; light green, dark green, stippled effects from the trees.  A graceful dip of the wing as we circle around.  Green, green jungle below.  Braided channels of rivers make islands of trees.  Meanders as wide as lakes, endless true sky blue above the white.  More huge lakes as big as seas with patches of green and orange surrounding.  Sand bars block lagoons.  Thin rivers, wide rivers, windy roads and straight roads.  Outside it’s -57°C, inside it’s warm.  A half empty plane, an overflowing coffee cup.  Dark green jungle and pale green savanna dotted with trees.  Dusty brown soil and dry river beds.  Clouds like steam billowing from a cooling tower mushroom into the sky.  And what is hidden down there?  Lions and elephants and giraffes slip away unnoticed below my feet.  Hills give way to wide flat dust covered plains criss-crossed with roads as straight as pins. Leading to shimmering gleaming rooftops that shine in the golden sun.  Parcels of land laid out like patchwork quilts of brown, orange and green.  And, then, after a thousand or more miles of wilderness...Jo’burg!  Traffic and shopping malls and highways and busy, busy, busy.  A completely over-whelming assault on the senses.  So the holiday begins!