Category: Founders Corner

Monday, January twentieth.

Twelve agencies were represented at the NGO (Non-Governmental Organization meeting. For the first time we heard there had been an attack at Ruhengari, about sixty Interahamwe soldiers involved. Three volunteers were killed outright. This is quite a distance from us but a bit disconcerting particularly since one of the areas we are working is adjacent. Access to the mountain gorillas is now denied because there appears to be a lot of rebel activity near Parc National Des Vocan where they reside.

We are now a part of the wider NGO community. A number of people I am meeting have known others that I knew from two years ago. Cyidian from World Food Program is now in prison. Frances, from Sudan, was transferred and is now in Ethiopia. Karl and Ussist from Swiss Relief are around but not in this area. Alfred is the stabilizing person. He is known by everyone. I introduced several of our people to him and they were as impressed with him and his stories as I have been.

Yesterday five huge lorries brought in another 200 returning refugees. They are healthy but not much else can be said for them. They are in tatters. UNHCR gives them a blanket and two weeks of rations. It is a miracle they have survived.

Driving into Karengare, which was the central place of our work two years previously, I was greeted with warm hugs including the mayor of the town. A seamstress who I had gotten to know, insisted I step inside her small work shop and sip genuine Banana Beer. A cooperative our team had assisted was still functioning. It was terrific to see. Many mentioned they were so grateful for our work. One man, speaking for others, said he could not express how they all felt but all remembered the food for work projects we had done which a kept body and soul together for so many. We got back late, after dark. I always try to be at our destination before sunset. To do otherwise could easily mean we might get shot.

Tuesday, January twenty-first.

We discovered this morning a UNHCR eight-ton truck had driven off the road into Lake Kivu. It immediately sank, drowning two. The water is thirty feet within two feet of the shore line. I had taught two locals how to drive on these mountain, gravel, multi-curved roads previously.

People are swimming and fishing. Anyone found on the water two years previously was shot on sight. The Catholic Guest House behind the Kibuye Church where 6,000 people lost their lives is now functioning again. Slowly things are returning to some sense of normalcy. Yesterday, I stopped at the Rwamatamu Bureau de Communal to check on work we did in the past. As I am standing there, I realize there are about 40 young men and boys locked in an office. They are just a few of the many thousands arrested upon their return from Zaire. All male adults between the ages of 17-45 are suspect. The vast majority of returnees are women, children, and older men and women.

One young lady by the name of Matilda was directed by the police to come down and identify the killers of her parents. She refused saying, “I cannot recognize and I have forgiven them.” It is a witch hunt. There are offices in each district related to the national tribunal now in progress. The local office has hundreds of files. The goal is to execute at least two thousand. Many have already died in prison. At the local security meeting we were assured that all was calm and under control in Kibuye Prefecture. No one really knows.

We have it made here. We live in a house with power. There is no running water but are working on it. We are running gutters, having water flow into a drum which will gravity flow into the house. Ruchie prepared warm water for my bath this evening.

She makes excellent meals served on china. She does our wash. We are fortunate to have her. Life is not bad here…relatively speaking. I cannot believe I just wrote that. Dave went swimming in Lake Kivu this evening. The guest house is only about one hundred yards from the water. He reported the water temperature at about 75 degrees. Eat your heart out Michigan.

We visited the local Burgermeistre (Mayor) and are in the process of taking orders for and making plans for the delivery of hoes. We are the only NGO doing anything with food security. We only supply the metal. It is eight inches across and twelve inches long with a meal loop hole into which a four-foot wooden stick is fitted. It is heavy and swung over one’s head when making a farm. It is an essential tool for anyone hoping to be self-sufficient in food production. It’s market price is equivalent of five working days of common labor, pretty much out of the reach of most returnees.

     

 

 

 

 

 

Monday, January twentieth.

Twelve agencies were represented at the NGO (Non-Governmental Organization meeting. For the first time we heard there had been an attack at Ruhengari, about sixty Interahamwe soldiers involved. Three volunteers were killed outright. This is quite a distance from us but a bit disconcerting particularly since one of the areas we are working is adjacent. Access to the mountain gorillas is now denied because there appears to be a lot of rebel activity near Parc National Des Vocan where they reside.

We are now a part of the wider NGO community. A number of people I am meeting have known others that I knew from two years ago. Cyidian from World Food Program is now in prison. Frances, from Sudan, was transferred and is now in Ethiopia. Karl and Ussist from Swiss Relief are around but not in this area. Alfred is the stabilizing person. He is known by everyone. I introduced several of our people to him and they were as impressed with him and his stories as I have been.

Yesterday five huge lorries brought in another 200 returning refugees. They are healthy but not much else can be said for them. They are in tatters. UNHCR gives them a blanket and two weeks of rations. It is a miracle they have survived.

Driving into Karengare, which was the central place of our work two years previously, I was greeted with warm hugs including the mayor of the town. A seamstress who I had gotten to know, insisted I step inside her small work shop and sip genuine Banana Beer. A cooperative our team had assisted was still functioning. It was terrific to see. Many mentioned they were so grateful for our work. One man, speaking for others, said he could not express how they all felt but all remembered the food for work projects we had done which a kept body and soul together for so many. We got back late, after dark. I always try to be at our destination before sunset. To do otherwise could easily mean we might get shot.

Tuesday, January twenty-first.

We discovered this morning a UNHCR eight-ton truck had driven off the road into Lake Kivu. It immediately sank, drowning two. The water is thirty feet within two feet of the shore line. I had taught two locals how to drive on these mountain, gravel, multi-curved roads previously.

People are swimming and fishing. Anyone found on the water two years previously was shot on sight. The Catholic Guest House behind the Kibuye Church where 6,000 people lost their lives is now functioning again. Slowly things are returning to some sense of normalcy. Yesterday, I stopped at the Rwamatamu Bureau de Communal to check on work we did in the past. As I am standing there, I realize there are about 40 young men and boys locked in an office. They are just a few of the many thousands arrested upon their return from Zaire. All male adults between the ages of 17-45 are suspect. The vast majority of returnees are women, children, and older men and women.

One young lady by the name of Matilda was directed by the police to come down and identify the killers of her parents. She refused saying, “I cannot recognize and I have forgiven them.” It is a witch hunt. There are offices in each district related to the national tribunal now in progress. The local office has hundreds of files. The goal is to execute at least two thousand. Many have already died in prison. At the local security meeting we were assured that all was calm and under control in Kibuye Prefecture. No one really knows.

We have it made here. We live in a house with power. There is no running water but are working on it. We are running gutters, having water flow into a drum which will gravity flow into the house. Ruchie prepared warm water for my bath this evening.

She makes excellent meals served on china. She does our wash. We are fortunate to have her. Life is not bad here…relatively speaking. I cannot believe I just wrote that. Dave went swimming in Lake Kivu this evening. The guest house is only about one hundred yards from the water. He reported the water temperature at about 75 degrees. Eat your heart out Michigan.

We visited the local Burgermeistre (Mayor) and are in the process of taking orders for and making plans for the delivery of hoes. We are the only NGO doing anything with food security. We only supply the metal. It is eight inches across and twelve inches long with a meal loop hole into which a four-foot wooden stick is fitted. It is heavy and swung over one’s head when making a farm. It is an essential tool for anyone hoping to be self-sufficient in food production. It’s market price is equivalent of five working days of common labor, pretty much out of the reach of most returnees.

     

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday, January sixteenth.

Today was a step back into time. I drove down roads I had been on two years ago when the first one million displaced Rwandans had been returning from Eastern Congo. I was seeing some of the same needs, meeting friends, and staring down the same stone-faced boy soldiers carrying AK-47s. We met a couple members of parliament and took a tour of a newly build secondary school on the edge of the mountain overlooking Lake Kivu.

Friday, January seventeenth.

Part of our team is coming together. Keith is leading this mission but a lot of details need to be addressed, for example, where do we find 400 ton of seed? There still needs to be a plan made at each prefecture and commune. That is my job. The vehicles are in bad shape. In the afternoon Jim and I went to Ngororero, the sub prefecture for three communes. We met with two Agronomes and have plans to visit again in a week. At that time, we will have a list of vulnerable people.

Saturday, January eighteenth.

Today was a change of plans once again. I sent Pete off with Annaka and Joost to get a feel for Rwanda. The whole afternoon Joost and I spent on the computer trying to get a message off to the family. Three more volunteers arrived with a truck and land rover. Each night I am getting to bed around midnight. I am running out of steam. Every day is a challenge. I love it. There are so many obstacles to overcome. Annaka’s bed broke. It poured this afternoon. I need your love and support babe! Are you there?

Sunday, January nineteenth.

We went to a church service at ADEPR. That stands for Association des Eglises de Pentecote du Rwanda. I took all the members of our team out for lunch. At 3:00 P.M. five of us left for Kibuye. We arrived at dusk and stayed at the ADEPR Guest House.

Thursday, January sixteenth.

Today was a step back into time. I drove down roads I had been on two years ago when the first one million displaced Rwandans had been returning from Eastern Congo. I was seeing some of the same needs, meeting friends, and staring down the same stone-faced boy soldiers carrying AK-47s. We met a couple members of parliament and took a tour of a newly build secondary school on the edge of the mountain overlooking Lake Kivu.

Friday, January seventeenth.

Part of our team is coming together. Keith is leading this mission but a lot of details need to be addressed, for example, where do we find 400 ton of seed? There still needs to be a plan made at each prefecture and commune. That is my job. The vehicles are in bad shape. In the afternoon Jim and I went to Ngororero, the sub prefecture for three communes. We met with two Agronomes and have plans to visit again in a week. At that time, we will have a list of vulnerable people.

Saturday, January eighteenth.

Today was a change of plans once again. I sent Pete off with Annaka and Joost to get a feel for Rwanda. The whole afternoon Joost and I spent on the computer trying to get a message off to the family. Three more volunteers arrived with a truck and land rover. Each night I am getting to bed around midnight. I am running out of steam. Every day is a challenge. I love it. There are so many obstacles to overcome. Annaka’s bed broke. It poured this afternoon. I need your love and support babe! Are you there?

Sunday, January nineteenth.

We went to a church service at ADEPR. That stands for Association des Eglises de Pentecote du Rwanda. I took all the members of our team out for lunch. At 3:00 P.M. five of us left for Kibuye. We arrived at dusk and stayed at the ADEPR Guest House.

Monday, January thirteenth.  

As I write I have a 40-year-old-man with a six-foot tree branch wiping out the spiders and cobwebs off the ceilings and walls.  Works perfectly.  I took a shower this morning, no hot water although the house is plumbed for it.  It will take stoking up a wood burning boiler.  As I stepped out of the shower I noticed the water was turning brown, then darker, and finally it looked like coffee.  I let it run.  Twenty minutes later it cleared up.  I will give it a couple of days and then take a drink.  Hopefully, I will be home before Montezuma’s revenge hits.

I am itching to be in the villages and getting my hands on some real work.  I am hanging around home until the phone service is hooked up.  The house is wired but not had service for three years.  I drove to RwandTel to pick up the technician.  In less than twenty minutes I had service until I discovered that it will not get me out of the areas.  For long distance, why else would I want a phone, I had to write an official letter, hand deliver it to the Telcom office for an endorsement, then with 10,000 Rwandan Francs  to the local bank for a deposit.  Sounds like a lot of money but RF310 is equal to one USA dollar.  After all that, we had phone service except it sounds like hens scratching the ground.  

OSHDA would be shocked.  The local blacksmith does not have any protective eye gear nor even a pair of working pliers.  The power is hot-wired illegally off a neighbor’s power box.  The wire is stripped so other bare wires can be attached to run other power tools.  Fascinating, creative, and innovative.  The poverty within town is appalling.  Children are playing soccer with rolled up plastic bags tied with twine for a soccer ball.  Still, I saw no overt hunger but no one is overweight.  And this is Gitarama, one of the larger, more prosperous towns.  Wait until next week.

Tuesday, January fourteenth.  

Another attempt at phoning home.  The line was clear but no one picked up.  Not sure why.  I am sure they were home because it was 2:00 A.M. their time.  Tonight, the line was dead.  

Five minutes after leaving Gitarama the diesel engine started to clatter.  Sounds like a lifter went bad.  I tried to limp into Kigali, 48 kilometers away.  Fifteen miles later, going up a steep incline, it gave out.  I locked, parked, and left it.  I walked a couple hundred yards to an open market and caught public transport in a jam packed sweaty filled mini-van.  It is pedal to the metal, alternately, the accelerator then the brake, and full on prayer as we entered on particularly sharp curve.  Thirty minutes later at the cost of sixty-five cents, I was in town.  Later in the afternoon, Keith and I went out with the Land Cruiser and pulled it in.

 

Wednesday, January fifteenth.

Today was the first day we went to villages and started networking with local government officials as to the real need of returning refugees and displaced persons. Then we drove over to Kibuye where we worked two years previously. The Chinese have taken the hotel over and have the contract for a new road which the World Bank is financing. I met Ruche. Her English name is Ruth but it comes out Ruche. She is a widow. Her husband was killed. She has four children. She will do the house cleaning and maybe some food preparation.

Monday, January thirteenth.  

As I write I have a 40-year-old-man with a six-foot tree branch wiping out the spiders and cobwebs off the ceilings and walls.  Works perfectly.  I took a shower this morning, no hot water although the house is plumbed for it.  It will take stoking up a wood burning boiler.  As I stepped out of the shower I noticed the water was turning brown, then darker, and finally it looked like coffee.  I let it run.  Twenty minutes later it cleared up.  I will give it a couple of days and then take a drink.  Hopefully, I will be home before Montezuma’s revenge hits.

I am itching to be in the villages and getting my hands on some real work.  I am hanging around home until the phone service is hooked up.  The house is wired but not had service for three years.  I drove to RwandTel to pick up the technician.  In less than twenty minutes I had service until I discovered that it will not get me out of the areas.  For long distance, why else would I want a phone, I had to write an official letter, hand deliver it to the Telcom office for an endorsement, then with 10,000 Rwandan Francs  to the local bank for a deposit.  Sounds like a lot of money but RF310 is equal to one USA dollar.  After all that, we had phone service except it sounds like hens scratching the ground.  

OSHDA would be shocked.  The local blacksmith does not have any protective eye gear nor even a pair of working pliers.  The power is hot-wired illegally off a neighbor’s power box.  The wire is stripped so other bare wires can be attached to run other power tools.  Fascinating, creative, and innovative.  The poverty within town is appalling.  Children are playing soccer with rolled up plastic bags tied with twine for a soccer ball.  Still, I saw no overt hunger but no one is overweight.  And this is Gitarama, one of the larger, more prosperous towns.  Wait until next week.

Tuesday, January fourteenth.  

Another attempt at phoning home.  The line was clear but no one picked up.  Not sure why.  I am sure they were home because it was 2:00 A.M. their time.  Tonight, the line was dead.  

Five minutes after leaving Gitarama the diesel engine started to clatter.  Sounds like a lifter went bad.  I tried to limp into Kigali, 48 kilometers away.  Fifteen miles later, going up a steep incline, it gave out.  I locked, parked, and left it.  I walked a couple hundred yards to an open market and caught public transport in a jam packed sweaty filled mini-van.  It is pedal to the metal, alternately, the accelerator then the brake, and full on prayer as we entered on particularly sharp curve.  Thirty minutes later at the cost of sixty-five cents, I was in town.  Later in the afternoon, Keith and I went out with the Land Cruiser and pulled it in.

 

Wednesday, January fifteenth.

Today was the first day we went to villages and started networking with local government officials as to the real need of returning refugees and displaced persons. Then we drove over to Kibuye where we worked two years previously. The Chinese have taken the hotel over and have the contract for a new road which the World Bank is financing. I met Ruche. Her English name is Ruth but it comes out Ruche. She is a widow. Her husband was killed. She has four children. She will do the house cleaning and maybe some food preparation.

Friday, January tenth

I am exhilarated and discouraged tonight.  I am right in the middle of a chance to make a huge, maybe even a life and death difference, in the lives of the locals.  There is so much to do to just get up and running.  We do not have access to seed and must source it locally.  The language barrier is a major obstacle.  Everyone speaks Kiyarwanda and French.  I speak English and Hausa.  We do not have working phone lines.  I have zero staff.  Next week I expect four volunteers coming from Kenya.  I need to hire twenty local staff.  I have a million-dollar budget and ten thousand dollars in one hundred-dollar bills in my pocket.  

Compared to 1994 when the first refugees returned the cities are much cleaner.  There are functioning stop lights.  There are fewer road blocks and check points but low-level violence continues.  Bribery and corruption are seriously dealt with.  The government has given 72-hour notice to several non-government agencies to leave.  I wonder if that is an unspoken policy to keep other agencies who have more resources and influence in line.  Funny how one measures progress.  I met several previous acquaintances, government officials, and UN personnel.  I tried to connect via email and make a few phone calls.  No luck on either effort.

Saturday, January eleventh 

Woke up clear eyed and ready to take on the world at 4:00 A.M.  Something must be wrong to be so positive.  I talked with the family today.  Rwanda is seven hours ahead of Michigan.  I talked with Stephane, a MSU college student who is living with us.  Jan was off to Grand Rapids to see our daughter and family move to Boston.

I did not sleep well last night having a lot of doubts and discouragement but today got started with loading the vehicle, getting it maintained, buying supplies, talked to potentially work candidates and putting a plan together.  This old horse is starting to plow the field.  One thing I did was this morning was read the report on the work I did two years ago with the first return of refugees.  We accomplished a lot, helping about 300,000 people get seed, hoes, and food.  I want to see if we can exceed it.  I also discovered that a portion of the recipients of two years ago lost everything they had when the militia came across from Ijwe Island and attacked.  The defending military decided to destroy any further incentive so they burned all the crops, houses, and took all the cattle.  The returnees had to run again.  Seemed to me to be a great way to win the battle but lose the war.

I worked four hours on my Hewlett Packard 19B Business Consultant II calculator and remote infrared printer.  Seems to work great except it does not print…much like Africa.  It is a wonderful place, full of terrific people, where nothing seems to work.

Sunday, January twelfth

I got up real early to try again to speak to my wife.  I bet that you wept yourself to sleep.  I could tell.  Then I went to one of the few English services in the country.  The only reason I go is because it is right to do so.  It is hard to hear/understand, has a lot of echo, the singing is awful, preaching only slightly better, the benches made for children, the list could go on.  I heard some follow up stores from my previous time in Rwanda.  A man had been protected in the village where I had lived.  He is now in Kenya where he can teach.  If he had been caught he would certainly have been put in prison and probably executed.  His only crime having been a Hutu trying to prevent the killing of Tutsi.

Late in 1995, after we had departed, many returning Tutsi from Zaire returned and accused the church of siding with the makers of genocide.  They accomplished a coup de etat within the church, taking over offices, pastorates, claiming vehicles, and paying themselves outlandish salaries.  Only by the grace of God was Alfred, an outstanding Swiss missionary, hung in effigy, able to defend himself pointing to his own service and our work as proof of helping all persons in need regardless of ethnic origin.  No supper tonight but a candy bar.  I am going to come home thinner.

Friday, January tenth

I am exhilarated and discouraged tonight.  I am right in the middle of a chance to make a huge, maybe even a life and death difference, in the lives of the locals.  There is so much to do to just get up and running.  We do not have access to seed and must source it locally.  The language barrier is a major obstacle.  Everyone speaks Kiyarwanda and French.  I speak English and Hausa.  We do not have working phone lines.  I have zero staff.  Next week I expect four volunteers coming from Kenya.  I need to hire twenty local staff.  I have a million-dollar budget and ten thousand dollars in one hundred-dollar bills in my pocket.  

Compared to 1994 when the first refugees returned the cities are much cleaner.  There are functioning stop lights.  There are fewer road blocks and check points but low-level violence continues.  Bribery and corruption are seriously dealt with.  The government has given 72-hour notice to several non-government agencies to leave.  I wonder if that is an unspoken policy to keep other agencies who have more resources and influence in line.  Funny how one measures progress.  I met several previous acquaintances, government officials, and UN personnel.  I tried to connect via email and make a few phone calls.  No luck on either effort.

Saturday, January eleventh 

Woke up clear eyed and ready to take on the world at 4:00 A.M.  Something must be wrong to be so positive.  I talked with the family today.  Rwanda is seven hours ahead of Michigan.  I talked with Stephane, a MSU college student who is living with us.  Jan was off to Grand Rapids to see our daughter and family move to Boston.

I did not sleep well last night having a lot of doubts and discouragement but today got started with loading the vehicle, getting it maintained, buying supplies, talked to potentially work candidates and putting a plan together.  This old horse is starting to plow the field.  One thing I did was this morning was read the report on the work I did two years ago with the first return of refugees.  We accomplished a lot, helping about 300,000 people get seed, hoes, and food.  I want to see if we can exceed it.  I also discovered that a portion of the recipients of two years ago lost everything they had when the militia came across from Ijwe Island and attacked.  The defending military decided to destroy any further incentive so they burned all the crops, houses, and took all the cattle.  The returnees had to run again.  Seemed to me to be a great way to win the battle but lose the war.

I worked four hours on my Hewlett Packard 19B Business Consultant II calculator and remote infrared printer.  Seems to work great except it does not print…much like Africa.  It is a wonderful place, full of terrific people, where nothing seems to work.

Sunday, January twelfth

I got up real early to try again to speak to my wife.  I bet that you wept yourself to sleep.  I could tell.  Then I went to one of the few English services in the country.  The only reason I go is because it is right to do so.  It is hard to hear/understand, has a lot of echo, the singing is awful, preaching only slightly better, the benches made for children, the list could go on.  I heard some follow up stores from my previous time in Rwanda.  A man had been protected in the village where I had lived.  He is now in Kenya where he can teach.  If he had been caught he would certainly have been put in prison and probably executed.  His only crime having been a Hutu trying to prevent the killing of Tutsi.

Late in 1995, after we had departed, many returning Tutsi from Zaire returned and accused the church of siding with the makers of genocide.  They accomplished a coup de etat within the church, taking over offices, pastorates, claiming vehicles, and paying themselves outlandish salaries.  Only by the grace of God was Alfred, an outstanding Swiss missionary, hung in effigy, able to defend himself pointing to his own service and our work as proof of helping all persons in need regardless of ethnic origin.  No supper tonight but a candy bar.  I am going to come home thinner.

Tuesday, January seventh

It was almost 11:00 A.M. when I got up.  I am rested from the over- night flight to Europe.  I walked up to Badhoevendorp center, about ten minutes from the hotel.  I had an excellent sandwich at a place called De Herbergh.  I asked the waitress what direction I should take for a walk…then I walked the other direction.  She wanted to direct me to shops.  I wanted the countryside and ended walking adjacent to the airport.  

I forgot my hat.  I was out about two hours wishing I had checked the temperature.  It was freezing.  I realized I needed to pee.  There are few trees and no woods but there was a deep ravine near the security fence.  Suddenly there was flashing lights and a couple heavily armed guards approaching me.  A farmer had alerted security there was a stranger walking down the road watching the low approaching jets.  I had never been so close to these powerful, noisy, incredible machines only a couple hundred feet above me.  I was interrogated and warned and stayed out of prison.  

My confirmation came through and new tickets had been reissued.  I would fly out the next morning at 5:45 A.M.

Wednesday, January eighth

I was hit with a surprising $340.00 overweight charge for a bag I had checked all the way through from my point of embarkation.  I was not going to win that argument.  I sat next to a returning refugee who had been gone for five years.  He was a big guy.  I was jammed between him and the window…in the smoking section…with him smoking.  Oh yes, those days.

There is nothing like the warmth, smell, humidity of Africa up disembarkation.  It felt wonderful walking on the tarmac to the terminal.  There are few jetways in the airports of Africa.  The piece of luggage I had been forced to pay overweight charges never showed up.

The local taxi driver, named Abass brought me to a local hotel for $7.00 and $56.00 for the Kabalege Beach Resort Hotel.  It is named after a Kalabewe King but he was not sure which one since sons often take the names of their fathers.  The power is on and there is running water.  A good start for Africa.

   

 

Thursday, January ninth

It felt good being in Africa.  Some things do not change.  There are millions of small flying bugs.  They usually come out after some good rains.  There are the same unfinished construction projects, broken tarmac roads, people walking everywhere, crowing roosters in the morning, the call the prayer.  I was in Entebbe, Uganda trying to arrange the last leg of my flight to Kigali, Rwanda.  

Even though there were nine people on the stand-by list, I managed to board the twin engine prop plane with a capacity of 20.  I stayed in a four-bed guest room, not one of them long enough for me, with a bath outside.  No hot water.  I am in Africa, in Rwanda, where I will work for the next several months in a food security response to the returning refugees from Eastern Congo.

Tuesday, January seventh

It was almost 11:00 A.M. when I got up.  I am rested from the over- night flight to Europe.  I walked up to Badhoevendorp center, about ten minutes from the hotel.  I had an excellent sandwich at a place called De Herbergh.  I asked the waitress what direction I should take for a walk…then I walked the other direction.  She wanted to direct me to shops.  I wanted the countryside and ended walking adjacent to the airport.  

I forgot my hat.  I was out about two hours wishing I had checked the temperature.  It was freezing.  I realized I needed to pee.  There are few trees and no woods but there was a deep ravine near the security fence.  Suddenly there was flashing lights and a couple heavily armed guards approaching me.  A farmer had alerted security there was a stranger walking down the road watching the low approaching jets.  I had never been so close to these powerful, noisy, incredible machines only a couple hundred feet above me.  I was interrogated and warned and stayed out of prison.  

My confirmation came through and new tickets had been reissued.  I would fly out the next morning at 5:45 A.M.

Wednesday, January eighth

I was hit with a surprising $340.00 overweight charge for a bag I had checked all the way through from my point of embarkation.  I was not going to win that argument.  I sat next to a returning refugee who had been gone for five years.  He was a big guy.  I was jammed between him and the window…in the smoking section…with him smoking.  Oh yes, those days.

There is nothing like the warmth, smell, humidity of Africa up disembarkation.  It felt wonderful walking on the tarmac to the terminal.  There are few jetways in the airports of Africa.  The piece of luggage I had been forced to pay overweight charges never showed up.

The local taxi driver, named Abass brought me to a local hotel for $7.00 and $56.00 for the Kabalege Beach Resort Hotel.  It is named after a Kalabewe King but he was not sure which one since sons often take the names of their fathers.  The power is on and there is running water.  A good start for Africa.

   

 

Thursday, January ninth

It felt good being in Africa.  Some things do not change.  There are millions of small flying bugs.  They usually come out after some good rains.  There are the same unfinished construction projects, broken tarmac roads, people walking everywhere, crowing roosters in the morning, the call the prayer.  I was in Entebbe, Uganda trying to arrange the last leg of my flight to Kigali, Rwanda.  

Even though there were nine people on the stand-by list, I managed to board the twin engine prop plane with a capacity of 20.  I stayed in a four-bed guest room, not one of them long enough for me, with a bath outside.  No hot water.  I am in Africa, in Rwanda, where I will work for the next several months in a food security response to the returning refugees from Eastern Congo.