The perfect breakfast

It’s no secret that physically we are not “roughing it” here. Breakfast shows this very clearly. Full cream milk only 1 day old, local honey, lemon marmalade made from our garden produce, fresh bread or rolls plus fruit salad of pineapple, banana and orange (our garden again). Unfortunately, the menu also includes 1 doxycycline pill!
Perhaps best of all, however, we can take 20 minutes to sit on the veranda and enjoy it together, with a stunning view over the lake to the Congo mountains. I think back to 5-minute “solo” breakfasts at home, where it is dark for about 4 months of the year. “Quality of life” is a wide and undefinable term, but for quality of breakfast, Rwanda is streets ahead.

Waiting

I visited the gacaca recently. This is the local court system which is being used across Rwanda to investigate genocide crimes from 1994. When we got there we found instead a meeting about security, being addressed by a senior army officer. This was at great length, of course (nearly an hour). When he had finished, there was the formal opening of the court and the identification of witnesses before the trial began. By this time my back was quite sore with standing and waiting and I was feeling hot, tired and dehydrated in the glare of the direct sun.
Then I thought about the families of the murdered, who have waited 12 years for justice. They have also had to wait their turn in the gacaca process and finally today for the army officer to finish his speech.
I am an amateur at waiting.
There are echoes of the Psalms here, people waiting to see God’s justice come on the earth.
How long, O Lord?
How long will the wicked be allowed to gloat?
Hear their arrogance! How those evildoers boast!
They oppress your people, O Lord, hurting those you love.
They kill widows and foreigners and murder orphans.
“The Lord isn’t looking”, they say, “and besides, the God of Israel doesn’t care”.
Psalm 94, New Living Translation

The mzungu baby

Aimee, one of the diocesan staff, had a baby recently and yesterday we all went round to visit. I got a chance to hold the baby and someone joked that it was a “mzungu” (white person). Sure enough, the skin on the arms was paler than mine (admittedly now quite well tanned).
The baby presents were definitely in Rwandan custom : 2 crates of Fanta, a hen and a large matoke (savoury banana).

The first signs of Christmas

Of course Christmas is completely different here. The first time I really heard it mentioned was in relation to the police. “The police become more harsh in December – they are trying to get more money before the end of the year. You even see them in the villages.”. There seems to be some truth in this, there is a lot of police activity and I had my first slightly unpleasant encounter with police recently, normally they are very pleasant.
The second conversation about Christmas involved food prices : “They start to go up near Christmas”. I can’t vouch for this personally. What has surprised me is that there has been little mention of it in church. I thought an Episcopal church would be stronger on celebrating Advent (apparently it is more significant in the Catholic Church). This week the church is being painted and decorated there are some special meetings next week, but there is certainly no Advent theme in worship yet.
Last Saturday we were in Butare and there was one shop with a tiny Christmas tree and a tinselly Christmas banner, but otherwise they are thankfully free of Western glitter.
For our part, we have put up some fairy lights on the veranda, taken a suitable branch to act as a small Christmas tree outside our door and are working our way through a chocolate advent calendar (thanks, Clare!). With reports of storms at home and the weather actually improving here, it’s hard to believe that there are only 12 days to go.
There is one other sign of Christmas – the flow of newsy emails from the UK has dried up! Presumably everyone is writing Christmas cards?

The first 100 days

We have just passed 100 days in Rwanda. Coincidentally, it arrived just after I had prepared a report for Rwanda Aid. My first surprise was that it was about 8 pages long. I didn’t think I had done that much since coming here! It also coincided with a very inspiring meeting with the bishop, where we were able to share ideas about our work and the way ahead. As always, the difficulty is putting ideas into practice. That is particularly tricky here where the management systems (i.e. the tools to implement ideas) are weak or non-existent. Challenges all around.
We have passed some kind of milestone apart from merely counting the days. The difference is subtle but noticeable in a number of ways.
• We have started getting interested in the news again, Rwandan, British and world.
• We have found a new confidence in speaking French and not worrying about grammatical errors. We are also starting to understand African French better.
• We understand a fair amount of what is happening round about us (we think) and do not need to ask so often. This makes life easier, but it also means that some of the novelty and wonder of living here is wearing off.
• We have people we would count as friends.
• We are seriously missing people at home.
We are also past the stage where we can say “we have just arrived here”. There are lots of things which are still new and mysterious, but the settling-in period is over (as is 1/7th of our time here).

Surprised by the sun

I was surprised to notice recently that the sun here does not always set in the same place. Being very close to the equator, our days are pretty much the same length, but the sunset is definitely moving. This was disguised because it is the rainy season and sunset is usually behind cloud, but I had expected that it would always be virtually due west. The technical explanation is provided by my dad, who used to teach navigation.

“Being on the equator greatly simplifies the calculation of the bearing of the sun at sunrise and set. Cyangugu is at 2* 29' S of the equator but that will not affect the situation to any extent.
The amplitude or bearing at sunrise is the number of degrees from 090--- N from the Spring to the Autumnal equinoxes and S of 090 for the rest of the year. The same applies to 270 at sunset. At the equinoxes it rises at 090 and sets at 270.
The maximum angle away from the E---W line occurs at the solstices and is 23.5* The sun therefore rises at 066.5 and sets at 293.5 on 21st June and rises at 113.5 and sets at 246.5 on 21st December.
These values for the amplitude of the sun at the equator are the same as the sun's declination on the respective dates. Minute by minute value for declination is given in the nautical almanac for each year. You could get an approximate enough value by drawing a cosine curve or even a straight line graph of angle against time”.
Reading this led me to another surprise – the sun is not always directly overhead at mid-day, as I had imagined it would be. This will only be true at the equinoxes.
If all this technical writing detail seems difficult, there is also a very simple parable here. I don’t understand half of what goes on in Rwanda, even simple things like the rising and setting of the sun!

The wedding introduction

We were invited to one of these in Kigali recently. There is no real equivalent in our culture – “engagement party” does not even begin to describe it.
The event is hosted by the girl’s family and its purpose is twofold – to negotiate how many cows the boy’s family will give and to introduce the engaged couple to the wider family on both sides. As it happened, the happy couple definitely played second fiddle to the cow discussions!
There were about 150 people there, equally divided between the two “sides” and facing each other, with a space in between for a sofa and chairs, later to be occupied by the couple plus attendants. We started an hour and a half late with a meal and then proceeded to the most important part of Rwandan events – the speeches.
The bargaining was carried out by a senior male relation from each family, with one or two advisers on either side and was very good-humoured, lots of jokes (we had a translator to give us the gist). After the opening speeches and some verbal sparring, the boy’s family eventually offered 8 cows. They were asked to confirm this and then the girl’s family said “that’s 8 plus 8 then?”. Much hilarity.
They went to 9, then 10 and finally, after about 1 hour, the sides agreed on 11. By this time it was about 1 hour away from dusk and I wondered if we would even be able to see the couple when they came!
I thought we were finished, but the discussion now turned to how to divide the cows between the couple and the girl’s family. This was shorter and ended up as 5 for the couple, but the boy’s family had a nice twist to their negotiations and insisted that the couple should be able to choose ANY 5 from the girl’s family stock. Finally, a request to describe the 11 cows was declined and they agreed to go and see the cows together to complete the transaction.
The couple showed up to great applause, greeted the families, exchanged gifts and then disappeared after about 15 minutes without saying anything. Since darkness was imminent, the party dissolved rather quickly : the wedding is in 4 weeks’ time, anyway.

Temperature rising

In the wake of the French judge issuing warrants against several senior Rwandans and the expulsion of French ambassador, there is a real buzz about the affair. The Rwandan “Sunday Times” had about 4 pages allocated to it. We spent the week-end in Kigali and quite a few people talked to us about it. One was a guard at some shops – he said “the French killed our people during the war”. We missed the demonstration in the capital, but apparently there was also one in the streets of Kamembe on Friday afternoon.
Of course, there are individual repercussions for the diplomatic spat. French-funded aid projects may be closed, the Franco-Rwandan Cultural Centre and a French-funded school in Kigali have been closed and the guard told us his sister, a student in Paris, had been expelled from the country.
All in all, it has been a reminder of how volatile things can be. It has also been remarkable how the country has united against France. This shouldn’t be too surprising – I have been trying to get a Rwandan perspective on this. The nearest I can come up with is this – imagine in the 1950s if Rwanda had accused de Gaulle of war crimes against the Germans. It would of course be unthinkable that France would even entertain such a suggestion. The “New Times” claimed that the events even had a racist tone to them and I can see what they mean.

Frustration - good for the soul?

The starting point for this is a very frustrating week, not the first since I came here! However, this is the common, if not universal, experience of Westerners visiting Africa. Frustration levels rise. We say that frustration is not good for our blood pressure, but I wonder if it can be good for our soul.

This is more of a personal confession than a general principle for spiritual growth. I don’t recommend seeking frustrating situations (although you only have to commute with Scotrail for a short time to come across quite a few!). The value is in what we learn when we cannot do or get what we want, when our wills are crossed by others or by circumstances. It reveals what is really important to us and as is often the case with self-knowledge, it is painful, because the causes of frustration are often very petty and show how self-centred we are. It’s all about my time, my priorities, my plans.

It’s certainly not always wrong to get frustrated. Jesus was clearly frustrated by his disciples’ slowness to learn spiritual truth, by the Pharisees stubborn refusal to accept him and by Jerusalem’s rejection of him and many of the prophets before him. In sharing our humanity, God understands what it is like to be frustrated – He does not get all He wants, either.

No cow for us

Tonight we were at a ”lottery” organised by our bank. Every 3 months they organise a draw for customers who have savings accounts – the prize being a cow. Unfortunately we were not lucky this time. It’s a shame - we know a few bachelors who might have offered us a good price, as cows are still the “bride price” here.

Conversation with Theogene the butcher

I met Theogene through a mutual friend and last week we got chatting about his work. At first Theogene was bemused and amused that I was interested, but I learned a bit about the meat trade in Rwanda.

I – “Do you have a butcher’s shop?
T – “I kill the animals, then people from the Congo take the meat and sell it in Bukavu”
I – “In English, we would call that a slaughterhouse”
T – “We do not have a house, we just kill the animals outside”
I – “And when it rains?”
T – “My job is very difficult then. I have to take the animals inside the house” (!!!)
I – “”So you cut the throat of the animals?”
T – “Yes, of course”
I – “ And what about the blood?
T – “It falls on the ground”

I explain the Scottish idea of black pudding, made mostly from blood. Theogene is very surprised. “In Rwanda only dogs eat blood”.

I – “So how did you become a butcher?”
T – “I needed to make money and some people near where I live were butchers”
I – “Did someone teach you how to do it?”
T – “No, I just watched others”
I – “But someone must have taught you how to kill an animal!?”
T - "No"

Armed robbers foiled in Kamembe

Apparently a gang of about 6 Ugandans tried to rob one of the new banks in town. The police caught them, one was shot dead and two escaped. One version I heard was that the gang had bribed one of the guards, who had then informed the police. When the gang arrived at the bank, they had knives and in the fighting one of them was killed.

The group I was discussing with agreed that these criminals were not over-endowed with intelligence. Kamembe has no obvious escape routes - the lake is on one side, the Congo border with its security guards close by, Burundi to the south (again there is border security) and lastly there is the difficult road through Nyungwe, with patrols by soldiers. How they planned to get back to Uganda, or even get rid of the money, is anybody’s guess.

(Note to friends and family - the events took place in the middle of the night and are as rare for Cyangugu as they would be in the UK, or any other part of Rwanda. We are quite safe here and crime rates are very low. Our bank manager said to me that he was not planning any new security measures as a result of the raid).

Banda - moments, insights, questions

Banda is 1 hour’s drive off the tarmac road through the forest. There is no electricity there and no phone signal. Some moments from my last visit, some insights and some questions.

Standing in a newly-finished house of mud bricks, praying with the family, the builders, the pastor and the diocesan visiting team. Appreciating anew how our shared faith can build bridges between people with very different lives. Understanding that there are links much stronger than those made by communication.

Listening to a young woman describe how her husband of 13 years has recently been sentenced to 12 years in prison for genocide crimes. She is left with 6 young children to look after and a half-built house. What does justice mean in this situation?

Climbing for 40 minutes on steep and narrow footpaths to visit a house being built with mud bricks for a young man and his mother. What will “development” look like in this area and for these people?

I still can't believe it

Modeste is our day-guard. He arrives at our house at 8am each morning and is there until after 5pm, doing odd-jobs and looking after the property. This is a 7-day-a-week job, with 1 month of holidays per year.
For this he is paid 10,000 Rwf (£10) per month by the Diocese. We pay him a samll supplement to this.

We had an old table which we offered to Modeste and I offered to deliver it to his house.

It took us 20 minutes to get there in the Toyota pick-up, it was more than 10km. The walking distance, which he covers twice per day, is slightly less than this, but there are a couple of steep hills on the way (inevitably).

I've spent some time thinking about this and perhaps I'll write later, but toady I leave the bare facts, which I still can't quite believe even after having made the journey twice.

6 kinds of bad road

It’s no longer enough to say “the road is terrible”. For the record, there are several kinds of bad road around here:
> The road with difficult geography. Even where the surface is OK, the road through Nyungwe has an unnerving number of sharp bends and very steep hills. We average 30km/hr on the tarmac. This road is notorious for people being sick in public minibuses.
> The tarmac road with potholes. You can never relax when driving on this, because you have to swerve or slow down at short intervals to avoid suspension-wrecking bumps.
> The stony unpaved road, which shakes your bones and introduces all kinds of creaks and squeaks to the vehicle. One version of this is the rutted road, where the water drains across, giving an effect like driving across corrugated iron sheets.
> The muddy road, where the tyres soon get a thick rim of compressed mud and lose almost all grip. Even with 4-wheel drive, our Toyota pickup slides going downhill and sometimes gets stuck going up.
> The “barely a road”, where there are unexpected slopes, dips and bumps.
> My least favourite – the road with scary wooden bridges.

This is not by way of complaint : I like driving here. Like many other aspects of life, it’s unpredictable. It’s also the most tiring work I do. It’s guaranteed that after a day with more than 3 hours driving, I will be falling asleep well before 10pm.

Finally, some travel advice for anyone planning to drive in Rwanda – the road from Ruhengeri to Gitarama is NOT paved for the whole way as suggested by the map. There is a large gap in the middle where you will find, as we did, at least 3 kinds of bad road.

2 Rwandan proverbs

There is not a drink without a speech (traditional). This is very true, except there are usually several speeches – Rwandans love to talk.
It is easier to get rid of mosquitoes than a crowd of children following you (mine).

Language learning / unlearning

I’m coming to realise what a negative view I have of language learning (in common with most Scots, I believe) and how different that is from most Rwandans. Conversations seem to easily flow between Kinyarwanda, French and English with no sign of strain. At dinner one night, a young nurse who was struggling with English was advised by someone else to “just speak out the words and if you don’t know one, use a word you do know”. I explained that in the UK “franglais” is not a compliment on your progress, but a rather derogatory term for a hybrid language. Two sides of the same coin, but a very different approach in Rwanda. Perhaps it is because Kinyarwanda shamelessly borrows words from English, French and Swahili – “chauffeur”, “parish offerings”, “escalier” as examples.

I also came to understand this week that when I use French and people do not understand it is not always because my language skills are inadequate (although my French is still a bit limited). It may be because the other person’s French is not that great. Blindingly obvious now that I write it, but as I said at the start, an indication of what goes on in my (our) head when we start to speak another language.

Match report : promotion for Cyangugu Espoir

Let me say first that as my 2 companions were my neighbours’ sons, with very limited English, it took me a while to understand the background to this match, except that Cyangugu Espoir, the local team, were playing Butare University. In fact, I was supporting the wrong team for the first few minutes, as the 10-year-old misled me!
There was a crowd of about 2000 I would guess in the local stadium, the scene of some horrific events in 1994. It’s about the standard of a Scottish lower division team, some tiered concrete seats under cover and a wall round it. A young policewoman was making some fruitless efforts to get the people in front of the stand to sit on the grass.
The pitch was in terrible condition, lots of bumps in it and although some of the play was quite skilful, the advantage this gave to the defenders meant that a “kick and run” style of was most effective. However, the first half passed mostly uneventfully, with a few near misses at each end. The teams were fairly evenly matched, the crowd noisy but good-humoured. The singing and profanities of a typical Scottish football crowd were missing, however.
Half way through the second half, the play in the middle of the field was suddenly stopped and everyone’s attention went to one goalmouth where a couple of players were lying prone. The players rushed up and there were some scuffles, but the referee and the police soon restored order. The goalkeeper of Cyangugu lay on the ground for about 10 minutes before he eventually went off. I can only assume he was suffering mostly from a guilty conscience, because when the match finally restarted they only had 10 men!
Perhaps the referee caught this bad conscience, because 5 minutes later he sent off one of the Butare men, to great cheers from the home crowd, for a rather innocuous tackle. Despite some further near misses from both teams, the match ended 0-0. By this time, I had learned from some students in the crowd nearby that this was a promotion decider and so there would be penalties.
The first four were well taken, 2-2 and rising tension. Butare missed, Cyangugu scored! Butare missed again and the crowd invaded - further evidence for Sheena’s assertion that mental arithmetic is not strong here. When the pitch was eventually cleared, Cyangugu duly scored and the crowd came back on. Someone had even managed to find a Roman candle type firework! So, the home crowd went away happy – a free afternoon’s entertainment and a home win. Unfortunately, since it is now the break for the rainy season, it will be a while before I am back. Bring on the first division teams!

Ministry of presence

A few days ago, someone used this phrase about missionaries who had been in Afghanistan through all the wars and civil unrest. They have respect and credibility because of this, but at a deeper level they are actually blessing simply by their presence with people.

I am starting to see that this is profoundly important here. We recently spent 3 hours each way travelling to Bweyeye, a remote community without phone signal or power. We are building a school there, replacing and enlarging one which is in terrible condition. There were 6 of us and we spent only 4 hours there. Actual “work” done was about 1 hour – we walked, we had lunch, we talked. At the end the pastor thanked us for coming because it was a long way and it was important for them to know that people had not forgotten them.

Those are the words and words are valued here, but the importance of presence is also seen in behaviour. It often feels as if there are too many people on these trips. The language barriers can mean that we have little to directly contribute. It can seem as if the time spent in travelling is not be4ing used effectively. This is not how people here view things! It is vitally important for everyone involved in a project just to be there, efficient use of time just does not come into it. Presence is highly valued.

“Ministry of presence” is a lovely phrase, but as with many spiritual truths there is a hard reality behind it. For those in Afghanistan, it meant facing constant danger and risking their very lives. For us, it can mean long, boring and uncomfortable journeys and wrestling internally with a different view of what is important. I'm sure, however, that it is one of the few things that we have to offer to Rwanda and that it is one of the lessons to be learned here.

A prayer "first"

At morning devotions yesterday I was asked to pray for rain. The few days of showers that we had a couple of weeks ago have ended and the rains are now quite late. All the fields are planted (and our seeds are in the garden, too) - we need the weather to change. We are vulnerable here and very dependent on God. So many people feed their families by what they grow on their land, at least to some extent. In fact, there will be few people who don’t grow anything, so the weather affects everyone.

There was a small shower over the Congo last night and a few drops fell on the car. I suddenly realised that it was the first time in my life that I had ever prayed for rain to fall!

The driver's tan

In “The Lost Continent” Bill Bryson describes the “farmer’s tan” – a white torso, with very brown face and forearms. It’s OK while fully dressed, but a bit odd when you have your shirt off. After my 5-hour drive from Kigali, I realised that I am developing the African driver’s tan – similar to the farmer’s except that the left arm, which is beside the open window, is darker than the right. Oops!

Les dames de Mont Cyangugu

We live at the top of a hill, Mont Cyangugu, with a panoramic view over the lake. It also has a steep access road which is in terrible condition, rocky when dry and slippery with mud when wet.
There is a daily stream of (mostly) women climbing this hill. I see them every morning on my way to work. There are huge sacks of sweet potatoes, which I think I could hardly lift, carried on the back and held with a band round the head. Lighter, but more tricky, are the plastic basins stacked high with various foodstuffs and clothes and balanced on the head. These ladies can balance their loads, not miss their footing and chat without any difficulty.
There are 2 destinations. There are markets in Bukavu, just across the border in the Congo. This is still another 3 km away from us and down a hill that is as steep as the one they have climbed. Cyangugu Prison is less than 1 km away from us and it is the second destination. Prisoners are provided with basic food and bright pink pyjamas to wear, but families are allowed to take extras to the prisoners.
This is a brief snapshot of life here, but it gives a glimpse of the physical nature of life in the land of “milles collines”. There is a huge amount of walking and carrying, made arduous by the geography. For most of us in the UK it would be unbearable, both physically and mentally, but it is accepted here as part of life.

There is no news today

Nor any other day. We have no TV, no radio that can receive anything other than music and we are so far away from Kigali that the excellent “New Times” newspaper does not come here. We don’t miss it. This may be because our initial month here has been so absorbing and there has been so much to do and to learn.
BUT
We have had one or two excursions into internet news, although the connection is a bit slow for that. It has done little to inspire us to keep “up-to-date”. Some typical examples :

Trivial political stories - someone saying something nasty about Gordon Brown.
Personal tragedies – terrible for those involved, but only of fleeting interest to others.
Blindingly obvious background reports – Lebanon needs money to rebuild after Israeli attacks.

We are going to persevere and hope to get a radio in a few weeks for the BBC World Service, but it has been an interesting experiment to see from a distance that even with 24-hour reporting, there often is no news today.

The 4Fs of life in Rwanda

The list first – Fascinating, Fun, Fulfilling and Frustrating.
It’s fascinating because this is such a beautiful and interesting country (and Cyangugu is a particularly beautiful part of it). In addition, because people are so friendly, all our questions get answered, which makes it easy to find out about life here.
It’s fun, too – the Rwandans we know love to joke, so there is lots of laughter in the office and especially on trips in the pick-up. This is an unexpected bonus, I thought I would miss the Scottish sense of humour, but there is lots of humour here, too (of a gentler kind).
We have a real sense of “fit” here, of being where God has called us to be. It’s not that we are making a huge difference to people’s lives yet, but simply that we are in the right place at the right time and it is very fulfilling.
It’s frustrating for all kinds of reasons, too many to mention!

Applying the brakes

The relaxed pace of life here is lovely in personal life and I’ve generally not been too bothered by changed or frustrated plans, rescheduling or delays because of chance meetings. It has all been part of settling in and learning a different culture.
In my work, however, I have been feeling a lot of friction this week, just like putting on brakes, except that I have been trying to keep my foot on the accelerator at the same time! For reasons both within and outside my control, I have been plunged into work very quickly and not had time to get my office organised or read up all the background on the projects. My efforts to do this have been frustrated by a number of unexpected events : an extended negotiation with an American group over a disputed bill at the guest house, a power cut at home, unexpected visitors to the office and unscheduled trips to the bank among others. They are all a necessary and important part of my work, but they were not what I had planned to do and “no progress has been made”. It’s only me that is bothered by this, of course! It’s inevitable that the brakes will be on all the time I’m here, I just need to take my foot off the other pedal.

The grave in the garden

This is a lasting testimony to my inability to communicate by sign language. I thought I had asked Modeste, our watchman, to clear a patch of ground of some light weeds, as we intended to plant some vegetables. I came home at lunchtime to find him, under the full glare of the tropical sun, in a hole of grave-like proportions. I didn’t have the heart to fill it in, but we have converted it to a compost pit, so at least it will serve some practical purpose. An added bonus is that we now conform to Rwandan law, which states among many other things that every home must generate its own compost. Meanwhile, I did the weeding myself. Must get on with learning Kinyarwandan…..

Rwandan Sunday

600 The Catholic Cathedral helpfully rings its bell at 6am or thereabouts each day, so we don’t need an alarm. This morning it is supplemented by Archdeacon Azariah starting his motorcycle and by the cockerel next door. The dawn chorus is unusually muted today, or perhaps we just can’t hear it above the racket!
645 Breakfast time on the veranda. This is lemon season and the main problem is stopping more bushes and trees from sprouting everywhere. We already have far more then we can use. It’s toast with lemon marmalade, Rwandan coffee and water with lemon in it to wash down the doxycycline. We’re having a morning without bananas, which are nearly a staple diet.
745 We are trying to get away when my colleague Emmanuel shows up to introduce himself. It’s always important to spend some time chatting in these situations, even if it makes you 10 minutes late.
810 We meet up with David (my predecessor, who is doing a hand-over) and “the Toms”, 2 students who are visiting him, plus Mattias, who usually helps David to do his shopping in the market, but is our translator for the day. We have a nervous time when our Toyota LandCruiser fails to start and then we have to push it out of the wet grass after an unsuccessful bump-start, but finally we are on our way.
The journey takes 2 hours, 1 on the main road (slow because of pot-holes, steep hills and a police check), followed by an hour downhill through the forest (very slow because it’s a basic track with sharp corners, water erosion and steep drops at each side). I think abut our 2 minute walk to church in Scotland.
1040 We arrive unannounced at the church at Banda. There is no electricity here and no phone signal, so advance warning was difficult. We are warmly welcomed, despite interrupting the proceedings and introducing the need for interpretation. There are about 300 people packed in, lots of singing (2 visiting choirs) and a lot of announcements and welcoming. It’s literally a “church without walls”, as many of the bricks have been removed for use in the larger new building which is half-finished and just alongside.
1300 We are taken to Martin, the pastor’s, house where despite our protests we are fed on huge bowls of rice, chips, beans and some small bitter green aubergines. How did they do that? It feels rather biblical, as a young woman (who tells us she is still in p6) brings round a basin of water for us to wash our hands before we eat. Conversation over lunch is about people on the diocesan welfare programme, which I will be administering and about farming methods. We are shown a new variety of maize which Martin is introducing and meet his family’s pig. Pigs are easy to keep, breed quickly and sell easily.
1400 We spend the next 2 hours walking around the district and meeting people who have benefited from the welfare programme : a young epileptic girl, Aloe Vera, who has a pig; Gaspar who has a new house under construction and Andre who got a plot of land a couple of weeks ago and has managed to dig it all over in that short space of time. Even by Rwandan standards, Banda has a beautiful setting, in a valley surrounded by hills on every side. This also makes it very hot in the afternoon – the sun is fierce.
For the children, we are the afternoon’s entertainment and we end up with a troop of about 40, all very poorly dressed and a few holding hands with various members of our party. Spending money on children’s clothes seems to be a very low priority – they are certainly much worse dressed than the adults, although this is a community of subsistence farmers and the living standards are very basic.
1600 Eventually, we take our leave with the threat of darkness approaching in 2 hours. We end up with 4 extra passengers : Martin and daughter plus 2 young men who work as guides in Nyungwe Forest. We come across a family of baboons on the road as we head back through the forest. There are a lot of primates in the forest, which is absolutely impenetrable apart from paths.
1900 We arrive home 3 hours later than originally estimated and it’s hard to work out where the time has gone exactly. We don’t have to eat much after our unexpectedly large lunch, but Sheena is being very creative with the cooking and we have pancakes (with lemon, of course!).
2000 A couple of phone calls back to Scotland, we manage to get Skype working here for the first time and then we settle down to our escapist treat – watching a “West Wing” DVD. We have the whole first 2 series (thanks, Crawford & Fiona!) and we are already hooked. Bedtime is 2200, it has been a long day.

Milestones

Suddenly, quite a few milestones have passed. They haven't come regularly, but all in a rush - sharing a little about our plans with the church family, our daughter Jenny going to S Africa for 5 months and saying "goodbye" to the house, Sheena entering the last term at school, me handing in my notice and explaining to everyone at work.

We find ourselves in new territory, where everyone knows we are going. This makes some things a lot easier. It's not that we have ever kept it a big secret, but at least now there is no reason for not speaking openly. Some things are also harder - the way ahead is shorter and more defined. The milestones ahead (many of them goodbyes) are closer and as the pace quickens, there is more pressure to get things done.

It's also been a challenge, particualrly at work, to keep converstaions 2-sided and not just to speak about Rwanda. What we are doing challenges us enormously, but it also challenges others. My prayer is to have interactions whcih are more meaningful than usual because they are about what we are doing with our lives and about the most important questions of life.

Famous for 1 thing

The latest film about Rwanda has just been released (Shooting Dogs) and inevitably it is about the genocide (that sounds critical, but isn't meant to be : it is genunely inevitable that a tiny country in mid-Africa will only be of interest in te West because of something quite out of the ordinary). Whenever I speak to anyone about Rwanda, they only know about the genocide and my level of knowledge was the same until about 1 year ago. That was when we were offered a place in Rwanda instead of the DRC.

It got me thinking, though, of how many other countries in the world are famous, or at least known to me, for only 1 thing. The immediate examples are like Rwanda - Vietnam (the war), Cambodia (the killing fields). Given the way the media works, perhaps it will usually be bad news which travels the fastest.

What about Scotland? In Malawi, many people know us for giving them their Christian heritage and they are very grateful for it. It's strange that something which has been so weakened in modern Scotland should still be our source of "fame" in a remote country in Africa. It's also a challenge as we go to Rwanda, because we will be in a remote, media-free area (if such a thing still exists in the world) and we will be the way in which people know about Scotland and Scots. We won't just be "ambassadors for Christ" as the Bible puts it, but for many other things we represent. Being under scrutiny in a foreign culture is a scary prospect.

Breaking the habit

It was a hard thing to get round to telling my bosses at work that I was leaving. The discussion was not so hard, in fact very easy. After 7 years with the company and now in a senior position, I'm comfortable (that word again) and for the most part appreciated. These are powerful drugs.

I can see that this is what makes re-entry harder than leaving - ex-pats are usually (relatively) comfortable and appreciated, but then return to a society where they have lost their position and need to re-establish everything. However, I am not even away yet, this is all a bit premature!

There is a very important spiritual experience here, which I am just about to enter - renunciation. Compared to many, many people, what I am giving up is trivial. I am sure I will be more than compensated by life in Rwanda. I hesitate even to describe my situation in these terms, but it still involves the leaving behind of things which have become important, even addictive.

The laying aside of privilege, security and familiarity will, I am sure be one of the main challenges of the months ahead and I approach it with some trepidation.

This could be the last time

I'm not announcing the imminent and premature demise of this blog, but referring to the song by the Blind Boys of Alabama. I got it for my birthday last year and it has been something of a theme tune through preparations for leaving Scotland. The last birthday in Scotland for a while, the last Christmas until 2008, the last snowfall in early March (surely!).

All of these will be hopefully resumed at some point, but there is a darker, more serious side to all of this, because there may also be some real and permanent "last times" with people I know and love. There have been enough family funerals in the last few years, including some of our generation, for this to be a stark reality that occasionally brings me up short.

It is true, of course, that each time we say goodbye, or even goodnight, could be the last time, but we don't live as if it is. Leaving for Rwanda is causing me to be more appreciative of the times I have with people, to reflect on how I value them and hopefully to give more to relationships. The pain of separation is lurking just under the surface, though. I'm sure it will emerge more as departure approaches.

On the horizon

I'm now starting to notice how my whole perspective on life in Scotland has a very definite horizon in mid-August. There's nothing beyond that, as we hope to fly out to Rwanda then. There's no question about it, even 5 months away, it colours everything.

Preparation for Rwanda is also taking up an increasing amonut of time. This week the big thing is buying air tickets. This is one of the most irreversible things we have done so far, not just because of the large amount of money, but because it is an action. To explain - we have been thinking and talking about Africa for a few years now, telling other people about it for a few months, but we are now in a new stage of taking actions to go to Rwanda specifically, not just Africa in general.

Comfort

Comfort – cocoon.

Changes priorities;
Conceals need;
Clouds horizons;
Closes eyes;
Constrains movement;
Cramps muscles;
Cripples risk-taking;
Chokes spirit;
Congeals blood;

Comfort – coffin.

Insights from Northern Ireland

I watched 2 of the BBC programmes with Desmond Tutu in N Ireland, bringing some of his experience in "Truth and Reconciliation" to bear on a different situation. Riveting, harrowing stuff.
The Rwanda connection is two-fold - one of the main themes was how people can live alongside those who have murdered family members and one of Tutu's assistants was the Scottish widow of a Rwandan genocide victim.
The Northern Ireland setting made me realise how relatively minor is the sectarianism in the West of Scotland and how much deeper is the trauma in Rwanda. But can we compare these things?
The recruiting, grooming and training of young men by paramilitaries on both sides was very striking to me - some of them were deeply ensnared in the violence before they had left their teens and it completely shaped their worlds. It took growth into middle age, changing of the political situation, personal tragedies and often prison before they "repented" (not necessarily in the Christian sense, but in thinking differently). The leading astray or corrupting of the young always seems to me one of the most culpable of things.

If there was even a tiny insight into Rwanda, it was how deeply the grief of bereavement by violence can affect individuals and families, how difficult it can be to come to terms with and how long the effects can last. To use Tutu's words, it was indeed "humbling" to get a glimpse of other people's lives like this. I don't believe that outside of prayer, there is really anything we can do to prepare ourselves for facing this in Rwanda. It is too unimaginable. Humbling.....

Starting out

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes but in having new eyes". (Proust)

I'm (very) nearly 50 years old and having lived in Ayrshire all my adult life, am going to live in Rwanda in August. I'm hoping to have a double voyage of discovery - both new landscapre and new eyes.

The "new eyes" have started to grow already, as I have started to think about what it will mean to live, to work, to worship in a very different culture. Part of me wants to try to understand what it will be like; to understand some of the dynamics; to prepare as thoroughly as is possible. Another part wants everything to be fresh and new when we get there. Reality will be somewhere in between, no doubt.

This seems as good time as any to start out on this blog- this week we put our house on the market, we looked at 2 flats we might buy and we "officially" told the church we are leaving. Since last December, it has felt as if we were coming to the top of a "big dipper" - we are now definitely over the top and picking up speed at a sometimes alarming rate. Very appropriate imagery during the winter Olympics! Actually, it is still more exciting than alarming : I'm sure there will be some scary moments on the way, but all this change is energising and invigorating at the moment.