Back to reality

After a very deep and long sleep I woke feeling human and surprisingly able to walk and otherwise function. 

I managed to avoid the awful lodge breakfast and was soon collected by Gaston II (I later found out that his name was Damian and Gaston his surname). As lovely as the lodge staff were they were too in my face and wanting to please. Thank you but no I do not want another coffee. I told the last four people that and no I will not die or give you a bad review because I did not eat breakfast. 

The three plus hour drive home was lovely, slow and it was a clear day so I could see the scenery. As I have said before the green was amazing. The hills have all been terraced to

maximise growing space and that is all done by hand. 

There are eucalypt trees all over the place and when they were burning in the open fire in my room let off the most wonderful smell. 

What struck me more than anything were the people. All busy doing something walking to fetch, working on the land, delivering stuff. Gaston enlightened me on the duties of the rural families. Dad does the hard work like carrying, taking heavy stuff to market and building. Mom does the ‘easy’ stuff like fetching water, cleaning, cooking and looking after babies. Once kids are about 2 they start to do jobs; walking to the trees to collect fire wood and help Mum with the water. The older kids help the siblings so they can all collect enough. The first child (and sometimes the only child) has it tough as they have no one to help them collect or carry the wood home. There were tiny wee tikes struggling to hold on to the branches they had collected.  If a woman is not married she will tend the crops as well. 

I asked if the same male/female roles were upheld in the cities and was told “oh no, in the cities we just work and have people to do all the jobs for us’. I guess that provides employment for the villagers lucky enough to be selected to work as a housemaid. 

An aside here, as I write I am listening to the music from a pool party in the hotel. Sounds like lots of people having a great time. The music is local stuff and fabulous. 

During the drive Gaston gave me the story of his life. How even as a little kid he wanted to do something better than his farmer father. It sounds as though his family, although not rich, were reasonably well off in rural terms and had a number of cows which counted for status and wealth. He was 12 when the genocide happened and separated from his family spent the time hiding in the bushes or empty buildings, skavenging or occasionally being given food by someone who was not afraid to support a Tutsi (punishable by death if they were caught). His mother and three of his four siblings were killed. It took months afterwards before he found his father who by that time had taken another wife (a second illegal wife is still prevalent and a means of keeping blood lines going when the first wife is no longer of breeding age). 
Gaston was left to fend for himself and came to the city where his remaining sister helped him to get a high school education. He put himself through university then went to Kenya to learn English. He now has a good paying job (good tips too), his wife also works and they have their own home and a wee daughter. He is so proud that despite a tough upbringing he has been able to accomplish as much as he has at 37 years old. 
As we drive I notice that the closer we get to Kigali the bigger the houses are, the bigger the gardens and the better the people are dressed. Homes no longer show a wide line of red dust along the bottom of the house. The soil here is bright red and inevitably any houses built at ground level have this red dust band round the bottom. With it raining every day the wet soil splashes up the walls of the houses. Closer to the city the houses are built on piles so no red dust line. 
We drove through some new subdivisions, which will be fully inhabited with a couple of years. Complete with schools, transport and shops. The government is trying to move all urban dwellers into modern homes rather than some of the older places with poor infrastructre. The govt provide incentives to make it easier fir people to do so. 
With the recent rain the river has flooded onto some of the plains near Kigali. This is a tributary of the Nile. I didnt know it came this far south. 
We drove through the main shopping centre. No glitz and fancy shops like we have. Basic small buildings selling anything you can think of. You certainly dont see any merchandising or signage or anything like that but by the looks of things you can buy whatever you want at these little shops. 

We lunched at the same place as yesterday and I ate the same stuff. However the waitress insisted I had some fruit and bought me the sweetest pineapple I have ever tasted. Mmm it was so good. A coffee after lunch was in order after which GastonII bought me back to Hotel Lemigo where I have spent hours uploading photos and catching up with these blogs. It has been a lovely day. 
I feel so humble here thinking just how rosy we have it in NZ. These rural people work so hard, we couldn’t do it and even though many of the poorer people do work so hard and have so little they are happy - they are alive and live in a country that is visibly getting better by the day. They are proud and they all smile. People, who in our terms, have very little and expect nothing more. Who from children learn that they have to work hard, make their own entertainment and not expect materialistic gratification. 
Tomorrow I move on to Ethiopia to explore there. I will be sad to leave and dearly wish I had afforded myself more time in this resilient, strong and beautiful country.