We were coming through the forest recently when we came across a small family of baboons on the road. They ran away, but not very far and this one conveniently sat in a tree only about 25 metres away as if to pose for some photos. Quite a large creature and the alarm calls were certainly scary! Whetted my appetite for a possible gorilla visit at some point in the future.
We finally have our visas! We should have got these before the end of 3 months in Rwanda, i.e. November, but due to a lack of understanding on both our part and the diocese, we were late. The process finally got started in December and has involved at least 6 visits to the visa office in Kigali and a similar number to the Episcopal Province Office. It’s very wearing and especially difficult because we are so far away from Kigali.
Our visa situation is not unusual – during our last visit we met a British vet who was still trying to get the necessary paperwork after 4 months here and a young German girl who had just got her visa in time to go home after nearly 1 year in Rwanda. No-one seems to particularly mind people being here and working : it is only when you want to leave the country that a valid visa becomes important.
About 3 weeks ago a small bite on my neck started to go septic and eventually turned into a boil which, despite a course of antibiotics, ulcerated. Not a pretty sight, although it was not causing me pain. This is how I came to be lying on a couch at King Faisal Hospital in Kigali, my face covered with surgical cloths, listening to the doctor explain what he was doing. I started out at Casualty and worked my way up the seniority ladder to the duty surgeon, as each one wanted someone else to look at it.
By now both the application of local anaesthetic and the treatment of cleaning out pus were most definitely causing me pain, but apparently “bleeding is good”, I was told, because it indicates live instead of necrotic tissue. This is more difficult to believe when the blood is coming from your neck!
The wound is now clean, I am on new antibiotics and I believe well on my way to recovery. I am also sporting a huge, completely outsize plaster on my neck which has attracted a lot of stares and a few direct questions while I have been in Kigali. “Bandits?” was one theory posed for my wound. Asking personal questions of complete strangers on the street is much more acceptable here than it is in Europe.
I have nothing but praise for the medical care at King Faisal Hospital and by western standards it is fairly cheap. The administrative procedures leave something to be desired : they took a lot longer than the medical ones, but in general it seems well run.
Before I came here people said I would need to get to understand Bishop Geoffrey. He had a major operation on his neck last year, perhaps this is a small way of me identifying with him!??
I’ve spent too much time in the last few weeks standing at the side of the road. It’s a natural hazard of driving here that there will be breakdowns, because despite the strength of the Toyota Hilux pickup, it gets some fairly rough treatment and a very constant shaking even on “good” roads. Some of the roadside waiting is at our local garage, which often does repairs in the open air. In December I held an umbrella over the young mechanic while he changed the brake pads during a downpour.
Reflecting back over that month, we have been very fortunate in the location of these breakdowns. In Uganda, a wheel actually fell off, but at very low speed and in front of a hospital near our friends’ house and within easy reach of a garage with a strong tow truck and welding capability. Another time a trip to Kigali was thwarted by 3 simultaneous problems, but all before we left Kamembe town. We were able to get a replacement vehicle on that occasion. Finally, we had a fan belt problem on our way home one night, but managed to limp to a nearby trading station and get some wire and temporary repairs.
I’m reluctant to use the word “miracle” in this context, although the first breakdown in particular felt like that. We travel quite long distances, sometimes through remote forests without a phone signal, yet all our breakdowns have been easily resolved. It reminds me of God’s constant and detailed care for us, of the faithful support of a praying community, of how privileged we are and of the mystery of faith.
I can't answer the question why our breakdowns have been "fortunate" in the middle of a country which has all kinds of physical, emotional and spiritual suffering. Even for me to ask it at this point seems like an intrusion into something holy. I sense a change here - sometimes intellectual questions like that which can seem so important at home become much less important in context here.
