The narrow inlet of Lake Kivu around which most of Bukavu's expat community live; patrolled by MONUC - the UN mission in DR Congo.

First pictures from Bukavu

I arrived in Bukavu on Monday afternoon, after a 3 hour drive from Butare. We drove through Nyungwe Forest and saw a few black and white Colobus monkeys on the way. There are many differences here from my life in Butare. To begin with, this is a much larger town with many more people, and much more going on in the way of general commerce, markets, restaurants, and various offices and institutions. There's also a UN mission (MONUC) based here, with various MONUC buildings and other UN agencies around town. MONUC vehicles with armed soldiers regularly patrol the streets. A variety of police and other military groups are also frequently in evidence. The general population seem pretty relaxed about it all. The INGO expat staff are all linked into a security network with frequent radio checks (I have the two-way radio with me when at home, and carry it if I go out in the evening). All the INGOs are located in one small area of town close to the border with Rwanda, and the area is regularly patrolled by MONUC. I'm glad I had the security training while in Holland.

Work is very different from before. I'm with a much smaller organisation, with only two expats here. Some things are much more efficient: I had a new laptop immediately, and business cards within two days (they took almost two years on my last job - I received them just a few weeks before leaving!). On the other hand the office and living quarters are combined in a small house, and I find this a little strange. Our living room doubles as a meeting room, with my desk in a corner. The advantage is that I have internet access most of the time (unless it's down). Once we move to separate house and office (as planned, when we can find something suitable), then there'll be no internet access at home. For the time being my personal space consists of one bedroom, so I have yet to unpack most of my things. I had a large portion of a six-bedroom house to myself before, so this requires some adjustment! At least I still have a view, and from my desk I can gaze out the window and look across at the hillside which is Rwanda, just across the narrow inlet of lake that lies between our hillside and the opposite one.

A few other differences: people here are generally much friendlier and more easy-going than in Rwanda. Social events are far less formal, as evidenced by the leaving party held for a colleague here compared with the one held for me when I left Butare. And even though everyone in Butare seemed convinced that prices in Bukavu would be cheaper, everything here is much more expensive than in Rwanda - except, for some inexplicable reason, powdered milk, which is considerably cheaper. So far I've already been out to four different restaurants in town, out of which three were pretty good and one was just average. Service is faster than in Rwanda - thank goodness! Gerda's place (the subject of the New York Times travel article, posted earlier) is very good, with a modern, bright decor - all exotic flowers and plenty of the local carved figures which Congo is famous for.


The office/house with a volleyball net on the front lawn - a rare small piece of flat land on the slopes surrounding Lake Kivu.


Looking across the inlet to Rwanda - the red and white antenna tower marks the border between Rwanda and DRC.

Back in Butare

I'm back in my old house in Butare before heading off to Bukavu in the morning. I've been gone three weeks. I had a wonderful Easter weekend in Utrecht and Amsterdam with friends Sophie (from Belgium) and Shirini (England) who drove up and flew over to join me. We all met at Schipol airport and then drove to Utrecht.


Nicky, Sophie, and Shirini at Schipol

From there I went over to England for a few days, first to Devon, to a rather remote cottage somewhere between South Molton and Barnstaple. The sun shone the afternoon we arrived, and after that it was nothing but cold rain for the next three days. Thank goodness the house had central heating!

Remote cottage in Devon

Friday was a successful shopping day at Selfridges and John Lewis in central London thanks to my determined cousin Julia, and Saturday it was suddenly a warm sunny spring day with blossoms in abundance, and I enjoyed wandering around the shops in Muswell Hill basking in anonymity before catching the evening flight to Nairobi. On to Kigali this morning, and down to Butare this afternoon. My old rooms are very bare, and without the cats I feel very sad.

Internet access in Bukavu will be far less frequent, and apparently the gmail address is difficult to access - much better to use Yahoo. It looks like I won't be able to post photos very often - we shall see! I shall have to see about changing the name of the blog now, too.

Bicycles (and a very small red car) in Amsterdam



Bicycles in Utrecht

Enschede

Yesterday I took the train to the eastern side of the Netherlands, to Enschede, near the border with Germany, to visit my friends Rini and Walter - my former neighbours in Butare. Rini cooked some great Indonesian food, and we spent the afternoon catching up on stories about Rwanda. Their house is close to the centre of the town, and as we walked from the station I took photos of a couple of churches and other interesting items.


This is me with Hein (a Dutch student who was doing research in Rwanda last year), Rini and Walter.


I was fascinated by this old church tower which is obviously much older than the church it's attached to.


This was another fascinating church - I've never seen one that looked like this before - especially those amazing enormous round windows. Hope I'll be able to return one day and look inside.


The town theatre had lots of interesting characters clambering around the building!

Those photos uploaded really fast, so I'll post a few more while I have the chance!!


The day I left my colleagues held a goodbye party for me at the office, and we took some photos. Here I am with some of the guys - I want to say how much I appreciated all my male colleagues: everyone of them was always friendly and generally went out of their way to help me. It was a real pleasure to work with so many great guys!



Sorry - have to add some more cat photos - I miss them so much!!!

Internet cafe with a difference

I'm sitting in this interesting cafe near the Leidseplein in Amsterdam. It's part of an old theatre, and the cafe is in what used to be the foyer. There's a wide wooden staircase and an ornate old-fashioned chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Everything is slightly shabby. The cafe has wireless internet access, so some people, like me, are sitting at tables with laptops surfing the net, although most are not. I think people come more for coffee or a drink (they also serve alcohol) than for the free internet access. I'm going to see how fast my photos upload, as there's quite a few from Rwanda that I still wanted to post. Here's a couple from a 6 am sunrise I caught the day before I left. I miss the view over the valley from my back deck...

Amsterdam

The weather here is a bit too cold for my liking, but the food is great! This is a wonderfully walk-able city, and the hotel is an interesting and pleasant 30 minute walk from the office. Sidewalks, roads, and bike paths tend to blend into each other and I'm constantly jumping out of the way of impatient cyclists. The old buildings lining the canals are full of character, each one a little different from the next, some leaning or crooked, some narrow, some wide and impressive.

The office is in one of these beautiful old canal-side buildings, open-plan inside, lots of light, very friendly. Dogs come with their owners to the office, cappucino and macchiato available (and very good) any time at the press of a button, and tubs of Ben and Jerry's "Peace of Cake" ice-cream also on offer! Large photographs of the children we work with, and campaign posters everywhere. Staff are remarkably helpful and friendly. A spare desk with internet access quickly provided for use when not in an orientation session. I'm busy most of the time - information sessions about policies and procedures, methodology training, health tests, and a three-day residential security training program coming up Thursday through Saturday which will include scenarios on dealing with weapons, aggression, and hostage-taking. Not that I expect any of that to happen, but being prepared is what it's all about!!

Only two days left. The more I pack, the more there still seems to be left. I have to say goodbye to my wonderful cats, Safi and Jolie:

Flowers

Downloading photos is going exceptionally fast today, so I'll take this opportunity to post some more! Can anyone tell me the name of this flower? I love it - it's one of the most amazing and intricate flowers I've ever seen. To see a full, high quality image of any of my photos, just double click on it.

Packing

Today is the day I begin packing - that is, if I ever get around to it! I seem to have so much to do, and packing is not one of my favourite activities. I may go over to the National Museum later today with my housemate Rose, to pick up some Rwandan baskets to take with me. The museum is an easy 20 minute walk from here. It was built in the mid-80's and survived the war intact. It's a good, small museum with an interesting collection of artifacts and old photographs. Well worth a visit if you're in Rwanda. Rose, a medical doctor from the Philippines with 20 years of development experience, arrived in late January. I wish she'd come much sooner! We get on great, and she's a wonderful cook.


The National Museum of Rwanda, in Butare


My housemate Rose, demonstrating her cooking skills with a chicken

Bukavu





I just had to post this article from the New York Times - thanks so much to Ludovic in NYC for sending it to me!

A Real Getaway
By JAMES TRAUB
Published: March 19, 2006 (New York Times)
In the early hours of the morning, with the cool mountain breezes blowing, you can sit on a veranda in Bukavu and fancy that this seat of bloodshed and misery on the eastern border of Congo is, in fact, an Alpine retreat — and that Lake Kivu, a thoroughfare for smugglers and guerrillas, is, in fact, Lake Como. And once, in an unimaginably remote era, they were. The Belgians who colonized Congo called Bukavu the African Riviera, and in the steep green hills around Lake Kivu they built fine villas from which to watch the bathing hippos and the flamingos that thronged the shore.
The wildlife disappeared years ago, as did the tourists. Pretty much the only foreigners who now go to Bukavu are journalists like me or diplomats and aid workers trying to put an end to Congo's fratricidal wars and to palliate its misery. Today Bukavu is just another dusty Congolese provincial capital, an entrepôt through which smuggled timber and gold and coltan (a mineral from which cellphone chips are made) find their way to neighboring Rwanda. But it's still a fine thing to sit on a veranda with your beer — we are talking about evening here — and gaze out over Lake Kivu.
Bukavu has many bars and many vantage points over the lake, but to conjure up that vanished world, you must have your drink at Gerda's. You must stay there, too. A big, white, square building, formerly a private home, Gerda's is now a guesthouse that looks out on the lake; in front, an enormous gate protects it from the street. It has a well-stocked bar and a charming dining room, and there are nine guest rooms. Many of Bukavu's most eminent visitors, including Gen. Patrick Cammaert, the deputy force commander of the vast United Nations peacekeeping mission, will stay at no place but Gerda's. The resident foreign community, as well as the uppermost layer of Bukavan society, treats Gerda's as its canteen.
Gerda Dewitte, the owner of Gerda's and une femme d'un certain âge, is an exotic personage from the pages of Graham Greene — a dark-haired Belgian of voluptuous proportions, who sways along on high heels, the degree of oscillation increasing as the night draws on. Gerda cooks dinner — and she is an exceptional cook — but thereafter presides at the bar, where she is in her element. "Barman," she says imperiously. "Donnez-moi un verre." And the barman pours her another gin and tonic. Then, her necklace and bracelets glinting in the light, her ample poitrine perilously restrained, Gerda embarks upon a tale of woe, perhaps about how the local chaos has forced her to close her iron-roofing factory. The regulars drift back and forth between the bar and their companions. One night I saw a Frenchman bid farewell by joining Gerda behind the bar and giving her a tender slap on the bottom.
Gerda's has the feel of an immemorial establishment, but the truth is that it's only a year old. Gerda had been making a reputation for herself as the manager of the Welfare Club, the wonderfully named cafe-restaurant at the United Nations headquarters in Bukavu, when she decided to buy the house and bring her customers with her. As a hotelier, she is a novice, and while her put-upon staff does its best to keep things running, it is probably fair to say that the upstairs does not operate quite as smoothly as the dining room downstairs. When I arrived, there was no hot water in my room, and although Gerda graciously allowed me to use another room's shower, that hot water — indeed, all the water — ran out sometime between the soap and the shampoo. My room was quite satisfactory, even though its furnishings were limited to a king-size bed with a mosquito-net canopy and a little table pushed into a corner; the window looked out over a litter of yards and cottages and laundry lines to the shiny silver tray of the lake. At $60 or $70 a night, it was supremely reasonable.
Gerda's somewhat waspish disposition probably owes a good deal to the travails of her expatriate life. She and her husband, who is of Indian heritage, left Belgium for Rwanda in 1971, went to Congo six or seven years later and have lived there ever since. They have endured the kleptocratic regime of Mobutu Sese Seko, the almost nonstop civil war of 1996 to 2002 and the sacking of Bukavu by mutinous soldiers in 2004. Over the years, Gerda says, she has been looted "five or six times" — but she's always regrouped. The sense of lurking peril presumably accounts for Gerda's solicitude toward the authorities. She satisfied the local governor's demands for free food and drink until he was recalled to Kinshasa for corruption considered gross even by Congolese standards, and she counts the army's regional commander among her regular customers.
Virtually the best way to exit Bukavu, save by United Nations plane, is on a large boat, seating about 70 people, that makes a delightful two- to three-hour cruise up Lake Kivu to Goma, a larger city with commercial air connections. (The 60-mile drive over execrable roads is said to take five or six hours.) But when I went to buy a ticket for the boat one morning, I was told it had been sold out for days. I trooped back to Gerda's in despair. "Maybe," she said airily, "there is no boat tomorrow either, and you will stay one more night." Gerda seemed to think that I would take some solace in the fact that my loss would be her gain. I can't say that I did. But Gerda's heart, though hard, is by no means adamantine. Late that night, with the restaurant empty, the first hostess of Bukavu pointed to the mirrored shelves of the bar and said: "There are so many bottles that just sit here. Can I open one for you?" It was a noble gesture. I uncorked an Armagnac and decanted some into a snifter. Gerda, as I recall, drank another gin and tonic. We had a companionable chat. By next morning, it's true, I wanted nothing more than to leave Gerda's behind — and I did. But, like General Cammaert, I will never stay anywhere else in Bukavu.

Saturday morning
(I wrote this yesterday, but then our internet connection went down for the day before I could finish)

I walked into town this morning with a couple of VSO friends, to take some material to the tailor to have a blouse made. I've only had the material sitting in a drawer for two years, so with two weeks left to go, I thought I'd better do something with it while I'm in a place with a recommended tailor. He'll also hem a pair of too-long jeans for me. All for a very reasonable price.

Walking home through the leafy suburb of Taba where I live, I spotted a large eagle-like bird clinging upside down to the top of a broken street lamp. It was manoeuvering to pull out pieces of grass that must have been placed there by another bird. I looked up the bird in my 'Field Guide to the Birds of East Africa' as soon as I arrived home and discovered it was an African Harrier-Hawk, recognizable by the white band across its black tail. According to the book, these birds "regularly steal young from cavity nests like those of swifts and weavers, using their long flexible legs to probe for and grab nestlings." So maybe that's what the bird was doing when I spotted it. The birds here are a wonderfully impressive sight, and I always enjoy watching them circling the sky in the afternoons. The large black and white crows, on the other hand, are nasty scavengers. One of them attacked my cat, Safi, when he was a kitten, so naturally I'm not very fond of them! They also jump up and down on the tin roof making a serious racket.

I wanted to post more photos today, but for some reason I can't upload them. Next time!

Talking about Bukavu

I woke up at 5:25 this morning - I wish I could do that every day! We have a pink streaked dawn, which means it will probably rain again today. I'm not complaining. Everyone needs the rain. Back in early February it was hot, hot, hot, with not a dark cloud in sight. Now I wear a thick fleece jacket to work. On 1st April I head back to Amsterdam, where it'll be even colder! Although I expect spring will be on its way. Since I've learned that I'll soon be moving to Bukavu it seems like almost everyone I talk to has a Bukavu connection; they've either visited, lived there, or have relatives there. I've been told that Bukavu is a bit cooler than here; I've also been told by just as many people that it's warmer than here. Yesterday I took a look at the BBC weather web site: for this week at least, Bukavu has more rain than here and is a couple of degrees cooler.

A week ago one of the best musicians in the world died: Ali Farka Toure from Mali. If you've never heard his divine music, now is the time to open your ears and take a listen! His music is well known and CDs easily available from amazon.com or many other places. I have the Talking Timbuktu album (thank you, Nicole!), and I've read an excellent review of the most recent one: In the Heart of the Moon.

Since I announced my move to Bukavu the messages have been flooding in. It's really wonderful to hear from you and catch up with what is going on in your life - thank you for writing!


These boys are collecting palm kernels along the street in Gisenyi next to Lake Kivu. Their mother will use the kernels in cooking a local dish. Bukavu lies on the other end of this long, narrow lake.

Losing colleagues

It's always good to hear from those of you who actually read my blog; and your messages serve as a bit of a nudge to get me writing again! So today, thank you to Charles in Cameroon for giving me that incentive to get my hands moving again on the keyboard.

And for those of you who look to my blog for reading suggestions, this is what I'm enjoying right now: "Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything" by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. It's been reviewed far and wide (well, in The Guardian Weekly, anyway!). Fascinating stuff. Easily as good as the murder mysteries I don't usually admit to reading.

And now to my heading for today. Tuesday this week was the last day at work for nine guards at our house and office here in Butare, and for around twenty guards based in Kigali. Some had worked in this job for eleven years, but they have lost their jobs to a private security company. So we now have guards wearing uniforms, carrying batons and walkie-talkies (but thankfully no weapons). It was sad to say goodbye to the guards who were colleagues, and who, inevitably, I had come to know. From those who speak French or English I had learned about their children, their aspirations, their hardships. Some have completed secondary school and will have a chance at finding other work; others have not, and in a country where maybe only 15% of the population has paid employment, the loss of this job will have a major impact on the well-being of their families. Our day guard at the house also doubled as our gardener, and, on a selfish note, he will be missed! Since I don't have the time to do all the work involved in taking care of my chickens, they were the first to go: given away. That means no more fresh, free range eggs. And if you want to know if you can taste the difference between a mass-produced egg and a fresh free-range egg, the answer is an unequivocal 'yes'!

Muchy sadder was the loss of a colleague from our Ruhengeri office, Tatien Dusabeyezu, who died recently of a brain tumour. He was friendly and outgoing with a great sense of humour. A former driver from the same office is now in hospital, also apparently with a brain tumour. And a Dutch friend and neighbour who recently returned to the Netherlands when feeling unwell, was also diagnosed with a brain tumour. I have to assume this is all a very sad coincidence.

The good news (I had to find something good to end this with!) is that it has been raining here for the past two weeks - just in time for people to begin planting seeds for this season. Now we pray that the rain will continue! For information on the food shortages affecting various areas of Africa, go to www.fews.net, a web site sponsored by USAID giving detailed information and maps.


Tatien Dusabeyezu giving a lively presentation at our September 2005 Programmes Meeting

Amsterdam and London

I'm now back at work in Butare after a week in Europe. It was such a treat to visit Amsterdam again, and to be back in England again - my first visit since I left in May 2004. It was especially fun because it was so unexpected!

In Amsterdam I interviewed with a Dutch NGO; their offices are located in an old building next to a canal right at the heart of the city. I loved seeing all the historic buildings and wandering the narrow streets. I was surprised at the crowds of tourists at this time of year, many of them British. The transport system is fantastically efficient and reasonably priced, so that getting from the airport to the city by train, and then to the hotel by tram, was easy and fast. I also enjoyed eating out in Indonesian restaurants together with a Dutch friend from my East Timor days!

Thanks to EasyJet, one of Europe's low-cost airlines, I was able to hop over to London for a few days - having booked my tickets via the internet while still in Rwanda (I love the internet!!). My main reason for going was to see my best friend from high school. We lost touch with each other when we attended different universities (polytechnics in those days!), and hadn't seen each other for almost thirty years. We reconnected via a UK website called Friends Reunited by total and happy coincidence just as I was asked to go to Amsterdam for the interview. It was a bit like finding a long lost twin sister, and we spent three days filling each other in on details of our lives, and unravelling mysteries of our youth. Helen has a delightful fifth floor flat in the heart of Notting Hill, surrounded by restaurants and delicatessens with devine food. I was thoroughly impressed with the quality of healthy food and delicious fresh fruit drinks available in London. I was also slightly stunned by the astronomically high prices of everything, especially the underground transport and trains. A few days in England is about all I can afford!
I also dashed down to Brighton for a short overnight stay to see another good friend. It was my first visit to Brighton as far as I could remember. I found the buildings along the sea-front particularly impressive; I thought the two surfers in the icy grey waveless sea rather crazy; the size of the city surprising and the traffic far worse than London (London traffic is enormously improved thanks to the congestion charge - an appreciable and pleasant difference). The weather was manageable; I missed the one and only hail storm while standing in line at the post office obtaining an international driving licence.

To my concerned friends!

The mystery illness was most probably caused by a spider bite. I'm a lot more wary of spiders now than I was before!
I spent a week in Cape Town convalescing, thanks to my employer, and to my cousin Adam. I am enormously grateful to both! The sunshine, hospitality, and excellent food speeded my recovery.

Now I'm in the process of interviewing for a new post, as my contract here ends in April. Life is hectic! I shall be in Amsterdam next week for an interview, and will freeze: I left all my winter clothes in Melbourne, never thinking that I might need them here!

There's much more that I would like to write, but it's already past my bedtime. Good night!

Mystery illness.

I have been sick since 26 December. I was in hospital here in Butare for a week, on a heavy cocktail of antibiotics. Now I'm at home, but still far from well - though feeling slightly better day by day. When I can read a book and write more than this on the computer without feeling nauseous (sp?), then I'll know I'm really getting better. Hope your start to 2006 has been much better than mine!

These are impala in Akagera Park, in the eastern side of Rwanda on the border with Tanzania. The burnt grass is due to a large fire that burned for a couple of days the weekend I was there together with a group of colleagues last July (more details below). It's worth clicking on all the photos to get a better view! In the park we saw a good variety of animals, including hippopotamus, african buffalo, baboons, vervet monkeys, zebra, topi (aka tsessebe), and eland. There are three national parks in Rwanda, the other two being Volcanoes National Park (known for the gorillas) and Nyungwe Forest (known for Colobus monkeys and many other animals and birds).

Some zebra in Akagera Park. The blackened ground is from the fire that was raging the weekend we were there (back in July). It came fairly close to our tents during the night, but the park rangers stayed up and kept an eye on things in order to warn us if it got too close. The fire provided quite a spectacular back drop, and reminded me of watching the hillsides burning in East Timor.

Some giraffe - taken in Akagera Park, one of Rwanda's three national parks, back in July this year (the dry season). A large group of us from work spent a weekend in the park, which was great fun. We camped on a hilltop with spectacular views of the lakes bordering Tanzania. The eastern side of Rwanda is more or less flat and dry, more similar to areas of Kenya and Tanzania than the rest of Rwanda with all its hills and mountains.

Butare province, Rwanda. Photo taken in early December. If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you'll get a better view of the typical pattern of housing in this area of Rwanda, i.e. individual houses on patches of land. In this hilly country, land is at a premium - this is the most densely populated country in Africa. Traditionally people feel most comfortable living on the patch of land that they farm. This is unlike many other countries where living in villages is more common. Noticable in this photograph is how dry it is, given that we are well into the rainy season. Rain has been sparse and sporadic since the season began in September, and in many places the beans (the staple food) are drying up and people expect to go hungry. Fortunately, the situation here is still far better than in other areas of southern Africa (notably Malawi and Zimbabwe) where there is now famine. For detailed information regarding the food situation in Africa, take a look at www.fews.net (famine early warning system), where there are details of rainfall and harvests. On the narrow valley floor in this photo are the rice fields. Valley floors are valuable land in the land of hills, and often stay wet and productive all year round (hence are known as 'marais' locally). Rice is not a traditional food here, but the government is encouraging production. The employment offered by the rice fields tempts some children to leave primary school.

This is a typical primary school in a rural area. At the far end you can see some new classrooms under construction. Population growth is high, so there are always more children to be accommodated in school; now that primary school fees have been abolished and the government is pushing to achieve the millenium development goal of getting all children into primary school, there are even more children to find places for. The teacher: pupil ratio is well over 50:1, which greatly impacts the quality of education. Noticable features of the school include the few windows - windows are on one side of the building only, with wooden shutters, no glass (far too expensive, and gets broken quickly), making the classrooms dark; and lack of water, either for drinking or for use in the toilets. There are no pictures on the walls, few books, no other teaching materials, no electricity. And it is up to the parents to build new classrooms, even though the majority have no income, surviving on subsistence farming.

This young man was delighted to have his picture taken. I took several shots of him and the other boys with him, and then showed them the pictures on the small screen of my digital camera. That's one huge advantage of the digital - being able to show people the results immediately. Everyone gets a kick out of seeing their picture on that tiny screen, the children pointing, saying the names of their friends as they recognize their faces.

Imps or angels? Click on the photo to get a better look at the faces of these young boys! Photo taken in the same rural area of Butare province as the one below.

"Follow the leader!" Children in Africa, although often leading extremely harsh lives, also can have an enviable freedom in rural areas to play outside and roam at will. I've noticed here in rural areas that no matter how poor the children, there's strict gender division in clothing: girls wear dresses or skirts, boys wear shorts or trousers. Among better-off families in the towns the clothing divide is less strict.

Another one!

Yes, for anyone asking, I felt the earthquake this afternoon. For those interested, there's more information on the BBC website: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4499938.stm

Apparently the epicentre was in DR Congo, some distance south of here, with a magnitude of 6.8. Here it was a fairly gentle shake that seemed to go on for an awfully long time - long enough to make me a bit nervous!

Click on this sunflower to see all the bees!

Sunflowers

I’m growing sunflowers in the garden. Recently I realised how unique each one is. Some plants produce one single large flower, others may produce one large flower and several smaller ones, and some are a veritable bush with countless smaller buds. Some of the sunflowers grow only a couple of feet, yet others tower over me. I went out into the garden just after 6 am this morning and photographed some of them. I'd love to post a whole collage of sunflower photos, but unfortunately the speed of the connection doesn't allow that. Will have to limit myself!

Yesterday I was at a wedding, and a couple of weeks ago, a funeral. I’m writing these events up in my head (usually while doing my exercises or in the shower!) – getting them onto paper or electronic form takes a bit longer. In the meantime, life goes on. Our power supply is much improved since about two weeks ago, and we have power most days now. Nights are another matter, and most evenings we’re still in the dark. My generator broke down a week ago, so I’m cooking, reading, and eating by candlelight at the moment. It’s the rainy season, so my solar-powered lamp only gives a couple of hours light. In any case, all my exterior lights are not working, and the kitchen light has also gone (wiring problems, not bulbs). The fridge has also forgotten how to cool (though fortunately the small freezer section still functions), and my telephone can’t take incoming calls. At least there’s plenty of water, and thanks to all the day-time power I can take hot showers – always considered a luxury! A benefit of a dark night is the always amazing view of the stars. Orion lies on his side right outside my back door, and just over the front wall the new crescent moon shines, clearly framed in the shadow of the full moon.

Book of the day: I’m skimming through (it’s not heavy reading) “A Pirate Looks at Fifty” by Jimmy Buffett, left to me by an expat friend. Appropriate reading, with some light-hearted philosophy on getting through life this far. His goal in life is to have as much fun as possible, and he has some great quotes to back this up (“Only if we understand… can we conceive of the seemingly paradoxical phenomenon that people who are afraid of living are also especially frightened of death.”). For those of you who haven’t heard of him, Jimmy Buffett is mostly known in the States as a singer/songwriter. His most famous hit ‘Margaritaville’ was enormously popular in Aspen when I was there working the ’79-’80 ski season, and groups of us ‘locals’ used to down jugs of margaritas after work. ‘Rocky Mountain High’ was another favourite, and I remember seeing John Denver driving around town in his pick-up with a couple of Labrador retrievers in the back. Must be reading Buffett that takes me back!

If you haven’t looked at the blog for a while, the photographs below are from my recent one week holiday on the Kenyan coast.

This is the reception area at Hemingways. On entry, this is one's first view of the hotel, and to the left of the reception desk the opening looks directly out across the terrace to the ocean - it's a delightful sight on arrival. The hotel staff are wonderfully friendly and relaxed, while maintaining high standards of service - a pleasant change from Rwanda, where staff training is still lacking. Note the Arabic influence in architectural style, and use of natural materials in the roof.

This was the view from my room at Hemingways. When the tide was high, it came right up to the hotel wall, and I could hear the waves at night. I spent not a few hours sitting on my balcony enjoying the view and allowing the ocean to provide a broader perspective to life.

This is the hotel restaurant. During the winter months (May - October) there are walls (with windows) made from natural local materials, as the wind and high tides can bring water right up to this point. The walls were taken down the day after I arrived, marking the beginning of the high season. At night all the dining tables were set out on the terrace you see in front of the restaurant, and we dined by candle- and moon-light in the warm evening breeze. The food is excellent, with a speciality being the fresh ocean fish caught daily - I watched the boats coming in to shore and the fish being carried into the restaurant each afternoon.

The town of Gede (aka Gedi), a few kilometres inland from Watamu, was inhabited from around the 12th or 13th century until approximately 600 years ago. The reason for abandonment is unknown, although speculation is either that the sea receded, or that a local river changed course, leaving the town (which has many deep wells) without water. Information on the 'net is hard to find, but the guidebooks to the area have more details. It's a beautiful site, and well worth visiting.

This sign is from the small one-room museum at the Gede ruins. If you click on it, the enlargement should be easy enough to read.

This is Ashley, from South Africa, with the final catch of his fishing tournament. I enjoyed meeting the South Africans, who were all very positive about the future of their country.

I enjoyed late afternoons doing laps in the hotel pool, seen here with the hotel bar, and Watamu Bay in the background.

Packed and ready (reluctantly) to leave!

November is almost gone…..

Are these blogs meant to be written daily?!! Before I forget everything that went on in November, here’s a quick update. The last week of October and first week of November were spent working intensively with an education specialist/consultant to the project. Every day was a workshop; our research data was pulled into focus, allowing us to work on future plans. It was intense and rewarding.

In mid-November I took a week off work to celebrate my birthday (one of those big round ones!) and went to the Kenya coast. On the flight from Nairobi to Mombasa I sat next to a woman travelling to celebrate her son’s birthday – the same day as mine! The first noticeable thing about Mombasa is that it’s an island. The second is how dirty the city is compared with Kigali. Rwanda is a veritable ‘Switzerland’ of cleanliness next to Kenya. Maybe the heat has something to do with it. Stepping off the plane, I felt the familiar breath of warm, moist, tropical air, and my eyes feasted on much-missed coconut palms. I stayed at the New Palm Tree hotel, not far from the old city. In the late afternoon, walking down to Fort Jesus, I was reminded of Malta with all its Arabic influence, old men sitting below the thick fort walls playing cards, young men playing a game of soccer in the warm shadows. The old town is a fascinating mixture of African, Arabic, and Indian cultures. Narrow streets become ever-narrower as one delves deeper, passing ornate wooden doors and balconies. I hope one day to also visit Zanzibar and Lamu, which have inherited similar cultures.

From Mombasa, a two-hour drive north by ‘matatu’ mini-bus (less frightening than I’d feared!), to Watamu, which is just south of Malindi, where I had booked a room at the wonderful Hemingways (www.hemingways.co.ke) as an extra special birthday treat. Apparently Bill Gates stayed here (I forgot to check the visitors book to confirm), and I know that Aidan Hartley stayed here, because the description in his book is unmistakable: “That night we propped up the bar under fibreglass black marlin trophies and old photos of Ernest Hemingway who had come here to go deep-sea fishing half a century before.” I enjoyed a drink in the bar on my last night with a group of new-found English friends, our only connection a week at Hemingways. Other guests included a large group of friendly South Africans here for a fishing tournament. The buzzing motors of the small boats taking them out to their flashy fishing fleet at six every morning roused me from sleep, and their return late afternoons marked time for tea (served by the pool, with delicate sandwiches and crêpes made on the spot).

Highlights from the week included a visit to near-by, fascinating, Gede, the ruins of an ancient Swahili town; and a morning out on a boat following pods of dolphins trying to get on with the task of feeding while we kept jumping into the deep water, masks, snorkels, and flippers securely on, trying to ‘swim with the dolphins’. They were too busy to have time for us, but it was a thrilling experience nevertheless! Hours gazing at the Indian Ocean watching the tide rise and fall, laps in the hotel pool, snorkelling on the reef, stretching in the gym, four-course gourmet dinners by candle-light on the terrace watched over by a full moon, and an inspiring book (The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini) from the hotel library…it all came to an end far too soon, and I would have happily stayed another week had work and budget allowed.

Back in Butare, my kitten, now named Jolie (because my driver kept saying ‘Elle est très jolie!), has grown and is softer and cuter than ever. Adrian Martin from UEA Norwich was in town and I enjoyed asking about all my UEA friends over dinner. My Indonesian friend, Rini, celebrated her 37th birthday last night with what must be the biggest, liveliest, party Butare has seen in a long time – a marquee in the garden, vast quantities of delicious Indonesian food, and an exceptionally divers group of guests from Rwanda, Kenya, Netherlands, Belgium, France, Sweden, England, and the USA. After my week on the coast I’d forgotten how cold it gets here at night – a Shetland sweater would have been a good idea – and when we returned to the car the condensation had to be wiped from the windows. I half-expected to see ice on the road. My fleece pyjamas were much appreciated last night!

Cat lovers only!

Everyone else, please ignore this post! There's a new addition to my family: 'baby' (the right name will turn up in due course!). She's a fiercely independent and determined ball of pale grey fluff, found near the university campus by a friend.
Safi wasn't too happy about the new arrival at first, but now they play together and chase each other around the garden. Funniest is watching baby chase Safi! She's so tiny, and he's a big black fella! Here's a photo of Safi (next to one of my solar lamps) looking rather anxiously at baby: