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.