05.09.2012
02.09.2012
Going home
I am tired in the morning, but I wake up early and as I can’t sleep anymore anyway, I start packing my things together. It doesn’t take me long. The sun is shining and one last time, I sit down in front of the house. Emmanuel gets up, but he leaves the house. Gabi prepares the morning tea and I take breakfast. Beatrice wakes up as well. She is probably more tired than I am. I help Gabi cook our lunch, peel banana and then just sit on the low wall and watch her washing the dishes.
After lunch, Beatrice and I go for a walk. I want to buy pepper and maybe we will find a CD with some Rwandan music. It is the last time I walk along these streets. We walk up to Kisimenti, but can’t find a shop for CDs. Some guys send us back to the junction to Kabeza. We are both tired and take a motorbike to that junction. There is a tiny shop that sells videos. Now we find out that they also burn music on CDs and I make them put together two CDs for me. One with popular music from Rwanda and a second one with religious songs. I wanted to have that kind of songs they were playing in the bus on our trip back from Rubavu, but either they don’t have that or they don’t know what I mean exactly. It doesn’t really matter. I get my two CDs and now it is time to go home to get ready. Leon has arranged a driver for me. Theonest promised to take me, but now for some reason he said he is not taking me to the airport. Somebody else will pick me at 6pm. Beatrice doesn’t want to walk anymore, so we take a bus to the station closest to her house. It is a big bus, where people stand in the aisle and we are squeezed together. I would have preferred to walk and probably it would have been faster as well. There are discussions at the door and it takes long until the driver finally starts the engine.
The SNV driver arrives on time to pick me up at the house. Fiston has come and I say goodbye to him. Beatrice, Emmanuel and even Gabi will come to the airport with me. It is not far to the airport from the house and the ride appears much shorter to me than I remember from my arrival. Walking to the terminal, Beatrice takes more picture of me, Emmanuel and Gabi and the bags. I am getting a little bit impatient now, especially when I see how many people are gathered at the entrance to the check-in hall. Do they all want to go in there? The number is deceptive. Only those with a ticket can enter, which means that family and friends are gathered around the entrance as well, but they are not queueing. My host family follows me to the entrance and here I have to say goodbye. Everything goes very fast now. Beatrice has already said her big thank you at home. Now all that is left is one last hug and ‘Good bye’ - ‘Murabeho’. I prefer it that way. The lady who checks my papers accepts the receipt with the flight confirmation that I give her instead of the real ticket. Maybe she doesn’t really understand what it is, but I don’t have anything else to give her anyway. I enter the check-in hall and queue for my bags to be checked. In front of me a slim man with long beautiful dreadlocks is waiting. He has a handsome face and sparkling earrings. Let’s give him the name Bob. There is no problem with my luggage and I proceed to the next queue until somebody asks if I am flying to Brussels. If not, I have to queue somewhere else. Bob is going to Amsterdam as well and I follow him to the correct check-in desk. The queue here is much shorter. An officer approaches me. They mixed up some sheets of paper when they were checking my papers and gave me the wrong one. I take my own printout and return what they had given me. Bob laughs. I get my ticket and move on to the immigration desk. I have to fill in a departure card. The immigration officer is friendly. He says Goodbye in German when he sees my nationality and I answer in Kinyarwanda. One last smile. There is one room as waiting area for all four departure gates and the room is crowded. A guy next to me sees my passport and addresses me in German. If I was here for holidays. I answer very shortly. I am not ready to speak German yet. I have lost Bob out of my sight during check-in, but now he takes a seat not far to me. We don’t have to wait for a long time. First, the passengers going to Brussels leave and then the flight to Amsterdam is called. I follow Bob out of the building, across the field to the aircraft. We enter the aircraft, one after the other, but it would have been too good to get seats next to each other. My spot is next to a big American man from North Carolina while Bob proceeds to the back of the plane. Too bad. I look out of the window. It is already dark. Suddenly I realise what is going on. I am leaving Kigali. I am leaving Rwanda. I didn’t even take a last breath of African air. I was so fixated on Bob that I simply forgot. Now it is too late. I brush away the thought of going back to the plane’s door.
I close my eyes. When I open them again, I think we are already in the air because I can see the small lights of the city. It takes some moments until I realise that we are still on the ground, but it looks as if the plane was in the air already because we are on a hill. Then we depart. I am so tired that I sleep a little bit, but I am interrupted by drinks and snacks that are distributed. We fly through bad turbulences that make the babies on board cry. The plane drops and a small girl screams. Someone close to me cheers. The first stop is at Entebbe in Uganda, where some passengers leave and new passengers enter. I watch how cargo is unloaded and new cargo is stored in the plane’s stomach. The plane is refuelled, the cabins cleaned and then the new passengers take their seats and we depart.
The night is clear and the sky full of starts, but I can’t watch them for a long time. It looks as if we were not moving. I can’t see anything on the ground. I want to sleep more, but I am too uncomfortable in my seat. Time passes slowly and I follow the flight on the screens. The American guy next to me tries to talk to me and find out what I did in Rwanda. I answer his questions, because I don’t want to be impolite, knowing that he is my neighbour for the next eight hours, but he probably notices that I am not eager to have a conversation and stops asking. He tries to start a conversation with a lady on his other side who is looking at pictures on her laptop, but she is not very responsive either. He watches a movie and then sleeps. Suddenly I think the sun is rising. Isn’t it way too early for that? Then I understand. It is lights from cities down there that shine on the clouds. That is what light pollution means. We have reached Italy and when the cloud cover breaks, I can see how the cities spread out on the ground. It looks very different to Africa from above. We follow the coastline. In the North of Italy, we cross big gatherings of clouds. Not far from us, the clouds suddenly light up in bright whiteness. There must be a thunderstorm. I watch how the lightnings illuminates the dense clouds every few seconds, until we have passed the storm. Slowly, the sun really rises now. Europe is crossed and we reach Amsterdam ahead of schedule. I see Bob as I leave the plane and he looks at me, but he is at the back and I have to hurry to my connection flight. It is is actually quite far to that gate, but I arrive on time, shortly before boarding time. The plane is rather empty and I have a complete row to myself. On the other side of the aisle are a brother and a sister, I guess from Kenya. The boy has a hairdo similar to that of Chameleone.
In less than an hour we arrive in Stuttgart. The bags arrive quickly as well. As I want to leave the baggage hall, a guy from customs takes me to the side. I see that they picked the two African siblings, too. Where do I come from? What did I do in Rwanda? Do I carry anything from someone else with me? Did I bring drugs? This is ridiculous, but I answer his questions. I don’t ask if he considers coffee as a drug and he lets me go. I am back in Stuttgart, at home.
My last workday
We don’t do much this Friday, my last day with SNV. I write my internship report and give all documents that I have to Fernanda. Now she has to organise the next week herself. I am a bit jealous because next week there will be a lot of things to do. A field trip to Kirehe, a training, a long evaluation in the north where Fernanda can participate. That would be an interesting week. On the other hand, I am ready to go home. I know that during the last days, I have grown tired of this work because there is no progress.
Evelyne has organised a small get-together for everyone to say goodbye to me. We meet in the tearoom where they have prepared some snacks, tea and coffee. Antoinette has come although she is on holidays. At first, Evelyne says a few words about having me as an intern. I answer directly and thank everybody for everything, but they tell me to wait and let other SNV colleagues talk first. Antoinette is the next one. She says she has got to know me as a bright person, that I picked up easily on feedback, that I learned fast, am hardworking and that it was great working with me. If I want to come back, they will be happy to take me. Nobody else wants to say anything - of course, because I did not really work with anybody else who is here - , so it is Beatrice’s turn. She tells how she was about to take her acceptance of hosting the intern back, because she was not sure about this anymore, after the first fast agreement. Now, however, she enjoyed having me. As usual, these talks make me feel awkward and I don’t really know how to respond. We have some food, I talk to various colleagues. Our country director joins us for a while. I am glad when Fernanda and I go back to our office, but then she also says that she appreciated working with me and that she learned a lot from it. We will stay in contact for work that is to come, especially for my one last work day.
Beatrice tells me that we will shortly go to town and one of the drivers gives us a lift. She wants to buy a present for my parents. At first we go to a souvenir shop and Beatrice buys these Rwandan style plates. She wants me to suggest something to her and I am glad she does not buy a picture in a big, probably Chinese-made frame the way she had thought about at first. These plates are much more original. We also buy coffee and honey in different stores. I am always surprised about how little interest these vendors show towards their customers. Michiel texts and calls Beatrice. There is work to do and he wants to know where she is. We go back to the office and although it is Friday, Beatrice stays long to work.
When we reach home, the kids of our visitors today are already there. The parents Evode and Elena arrive soon after them. The kids don’t talk to me, but the parents do. We are lucky to have power. The last days there was no light, but today it is working except for some moments where we simply use candles. We, the adults, sit on the couches and talk, while the kids, two girls, a small boy and Emmanuel, are gathered around the computer. Dinner is not ready until long after 9 pm. However, the conversation seems to go well. Beatrice shows them Emmanuel’s small folder that documents all his results for the last two terms. Eventually, the food is ready and we eat. The adults and me around the table, the kids outside. Beatrice opens the bottle of wine we bought in town today. Apart from that, we have the usual soda and water. At 11 pm, we have finished eating and our visitors depart. I think they must be quite wealthy. In their car, the kids watch a movie on a small screen. I just hope they enjoyed the evening, but I can’t really tell.
Beatrice and I had planned to go out despite the visit. This morning she was not feeling well, but now it is better and we decide to try and go out. At 12 pm we leave the house. The guard accompanies us to the main road, where a neighbour passes and gives us a lift to the next junction. From there, we take a taxi. We enter the nightclub at 00:30 am. It is almost completely empty. Nobody is on the dance floor. Some individual guests sit on the bar and a couple sits at a low table. We are surprised. If not on a Friday night, when do people here go dancing? We decide to sit at the side and wait a bit. The music is not good for dancing now anyway. Beatrice dozes of. Then suddenly, a song I know from the radio. I get up and dance, Beatrice joins me. Nobody else is dancing, but we have come for dancing, so we do so. The music is good now. Songs even I know. Chameleone, P Square, even my favourite song from Ghana ‘I love my life’. Some more guests have come and enter the dance floor. We were dancing next to the empty sofas and chairs, but now we also go to the dance floor. The couple dances, too. After a while, we break for a moment, but soon the DJ plays a song that makes us dance again. I check the time and am surprised about how little time has passed. I dance for myself, just with Beatrice, and watch others. Sometimes I wonder if Beatrice is enjoying herself, but some songs make her laugh. A big screen shows the music videos to each song. At some point, the DJ starts playing songs that are really not danceable. Beatrice and I step down from the dance floor. By now, some more dancers have come, especially noticeable is a group of white people. Some of the girls are really good dancers as well. It is 3 am. We decide to go home and sleep.
Coffee in Gakenke
It is Wednesday, August 22. Fernanda and I have finally arranged our field trip to Gakenke, where we want to talk to different people about the Coffee Task Force in their district, a forum for all actors related to the coffee sector. Today, Antoine is driving us. We take the road in the direction to Musanze, but turn before reaching there, into a smaller red road.
The first stop is at the district office and we are already being expected. We talk to the vice mayor in charge of economic affaires and a technician at the same time and I am positively surprised. They have actually gone through the questionnaire we have sent them in advance, discussed the questions and prepared answers. According to them, it has helped them to think about what is happening. That is probably the best feedback we have ever received. Despite the prepared answers, we still have a good interview, asking for additional information and receiving detailed answers and examples. They also promise to translate and summarise reports for us and arrange for us to meet two members of the Coffee Task Force, two cooperatives. The technician explains the way to get there to our driver Antoine and we set off, following small roads leading away from the main town in the district, to other sectors. This is a real field trip. We have to ask for the way several times and it takes longer than expected to find the places, but I don’t mind. I like these rides.
Both cooperatives have a coffee washing station and guide us through the process of washing the coffee cherries, selecting and drying the coffee beans. At both stations we speak French, although it is difficult to understand their strong accent. It is interesting to see how the coffee cherries are processed, but we do not get the information we actually want, information about the coffee task force. Although they are members, they can’t really say much about the forum. The language barrier is a bad excuse. At the second washing station we are not talking to the cooperative’s president, but workers of the washing station, but still we are disappointed by the result. Maybe this is an answer in itself. At least we see a lot. The guys we meet at the second washing stations also show us one of their plantations and explain techniques they have learned from other members of the coffee task force. We part from the cooperatives, thanking them for their time and then head back to Kigali. It is afternoon already and we didn’t eat yet, but I expect to pass that place on the road between Musanze and Kigali, where we can buy grilled potatoes and the like. We passed there on our way to come here, so it should be the same on our way back. However, that is not the case. Instead of going back to the main, tarmac road, Antoine chooses to go through the field, using the small roads only. It takes some time for me to realise that because he doesn’t say anything. I am surprised, but enjoy the bumpy ride. The scenery is beautiful and we are lucky with the weather as well. Away from bigger villages, we have great views across hills and valleys, enrolling endlessly before us. Now, I see more coffee plantations. After some time, having gone up and done a couple of hills, we find ourselves in a broad valley, next to a river that we follow. It is a big river with brown water, fields to its left and right. There are banana plantations and sugar cane. In some places, the sugar cane has been cut and is piled at the side of the road, waiting to be transported to Kigali. The window is open and wind blows into my face, messing up my hair. I know that it is now full of dust and I will have troubles brushing it. I don’t care. This is a wonderful last field trip. Only shortly before arriving in Kigali, we reach the tarmac road. I recognise the junction. To the left Kigali, to the right Gitarama. We must have made something like a big circle northwest of Kigali. I make a note in my head to check on the map.
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