"It's the hardest test you can do !!"

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There are only two events likely to draw a bigger crowd than a Rwandan football match. The first, setting your house on fire, as observed recently should pull you in around 2 to 3,000, dependant on it’s location. Near the main road appears to be best. You’d think in a country where fetching and carrying water is the national pastime and where children are schooled in the art from birth, the chances of a experiencing a serious blaze would be small. Sadly not, as the merit of this event as a spectator sport seems to far outweigh that of neighbourly duty. In fact you’d be hard pushed to find anyone lifting a finger to help, even close family seem to have better things to do. I can only speculate that when you have to make so much effort to obtain your water, the last thing you want to do with it is throw over your neighbour’s house - screaming or no screaming! Which I guess is probably a good metaphor for this continent’s relationship with the rest of the world?


However it seems things are changing for the good, especially since those upwardly mobile Chinese arrived on the scene in search of cheap natural resources for those 100 plus airports it’s got planned. It’ll not come as a surprise to hear that they’re currently the biggest buyer of Sudanese (and Iranian) oil, by some margin. Yeah I know, the they have oil! Or rather Mr Bashir and a carefully selected few in his very questionable government do, not of course the country’s millions of displaced and starving people.


Although to be fair to Beijing they have done some good work here, building most of the roads for a start, helping Rwandans get their fish to mate and by all accounts they drank $20M worth of Rwandan coffee last year


So now the race is definitely on and you can’t move down here for G8 leaders and their entourage, all trying their hardest to win East African brownie points. But as usual George W’s Team USA have the most cunning plan, it appears team captain, a certain Paris Hilton is on her way to Rwanda, fresh from a stint in the slammer. So at least the food won’t be a disappointment. Unbelievable but true, she’s going to be filming a possible reality show ‘The Philanthropist Wore Gucci’, searching the country for modelling talent. Her master plan is to bring those ‘lucky’ girls over to the US catwalks in exchange for food, but (and I quote) …“not too much, so they don’t cow out”. You really couldn’t dream this stuff up if you tried.


Anyhow, Rwanda does of course have a fire service, it’s in the capital Kigali, a 2 hour drive, if of course they can be arsed. So basically you’re on your own - good luck.


Which brings me to the number one big draw and my personal favourite ‘The Rwandan Driving Test’. You may be surprised to hear this little crowd pleaser will net you a cool 3 to 4 thousand, easy. Coincidentally, but maybe not appropriately, this takes place on each of its provinces football pitches (there’s 5, provinces not pitches) every 6 months and runs over a staggering 2 to 3 days. I’m not sure if this motoring marathon is for the benefit of the spectator’s or the adjudicating police, either way confined to a football pitch its clearly not for the benefit of other motorists or pedestrians.


They say Rwandans are more afraid of the ‘rain’ than the ‘road’ and whoever they are they’re not kidding. Big David Prowse and his Green Cross Code tour* certainly never reached these parts, they don’t look one way let alone both before crossing and kids really do play in the road, wheel with stick normally. They carry machetes round here, never toys. It’s a miracle I haven’t hit one and don’t get me started on the cyclists or worse their driving at night. The roads clearly aren’t wide enough for two cars, add two bikes carrying anything from live goats/pigs (upto 4), doors complete with frame, 12 foot roof panels or two tonne of mixed veg and you’re clearly asking for trouble. Believe it or not I swerved to avoid one the other day with a coffin on the back, I’m assuming it was empty, but I’ve been here long enough to know not to put money on it, even theirs.


To drive at night you’ve got to be either extremely brave or very stupid or of course lost and unfortunately I’ve got a tick all three of those boxes. It seems the use of normal headlights has been outlawed as alternating between no lights and full beam is the preferred method for blinding oncoming traffic. Not ideal if you want to avoid the many Rwandans enjoying a late night stroll in the road.


It rains so hard on the corrugated roofs here that during rainy season they have to close some of the schools, because the kids can’t hear the teachers. Incidentally no one owns a raincoat and only mothers with babies strapped to their backs carry umbrellas and that’s to keep the sun off.


The content of the driving test is still proving to be a little tricky to pin down. The local constabulary weren’t too happy about me taking photos, let alone answering my inane questions about three point turns. However it did surprise me to hear that in the ‘Land of a Thousand Hills and a Million Smiles’ the hill start isn’t covered in the standard test but comes on day three of their ‘advanced’ option. Innocent, the school’s director was my reliable source for that one; he mentioned it whilst driving me to his own test. In all the time he’s been driving me around the right time to tell me he hadn’t passed just didn’t seem to arrive, apparently.


In Innocent’s absence my guide and chaperone for the big show was another Innocent (ironically, there’s loads of them), SACCA Director Douglas’s dodgy mate from the council. According to Innocent II, the Rwandan driving test ‘Is, the hardest test you can do’ ..and he was adamant. One can only assume nuclear physics, neuroscience and biochemistry don’t feature on the Kigali University prospectus this year and God only knows what they must be teaching their doctors. But hey, at least their ambulance drivers will be the best in the world.


Now it was clear I was in the presence of an expert I did have to ask how they learnt about traffic lights, bearing in mind you won’t find too many on the average football pitch, even here.

‘Not a problem… only Kigali has them, so they’re not on the test’, he replies

Now it all makes sense, that’s why no one stops at the lights in Kigali - they’ve never seen them before!


With a population of 9 million and only 10 tests a year (2 in each province) you’d expect the queue to get one would be at least a mile long. Not so. You have to remember that most people struggle to afford food, so a test, let alone petrol and a car, are well down on their Xmas lists. If you pass, thankfully not that many do, a licence will set you back around 25,000 RWF (£25) or about 1-2 months salary in real money! I assume this is their environmentally friendly government’s way of reducing the countries traffic congestion and exhaust emissions. The vehicle of choice, they maybe compulsory, appears to be a clapped out 1987 Toyota Corolla, in the classic ‘African White’. I counted at least seven on the edge of the 18 yard box. Come to think about it, every car in Rwanda is white; you’re more likely to see a 500lb Silverback skipping down Rwamagana high street than a red or blue car.


Now if you’re after a really big crowd, then you’re going to need an articulated lorry - a big one. I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but they’re occupying most of the away end. Although from what I could deduce the drivers only have to reverse in a straight line to pass, collect hero status and of course the biggest cheer of the day. If you want to woo a Rwandan, take him (or her) to the local footie pitch to watch a 40 tonne truck reverse 50 yards - Trust me, there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you after that!


Not surprisingly working in Rwanda/Africa has been an education, emotional roller coaster ride, worthwhile experience, a laugh, you name it and often in ways I never would have expected. If it’s something you’ve been considering, I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending you take the plunge or at least encourage you find out more. Of course expectations and motivations will vary and no two experiences will ever be the same, but I guarantee you’ll learn some important lessons about yourself, the real world and you’ll definitely meet some fantastic people in a vastly underrated and misunderstood continent. Honest, hardworking and genuine with truly a lot to complain about but without the time, energy or inclination to do so. I’m already far more proud of my achievements here than those from 10 years aimlessly climbing the corporate ladder. Although it’s pretty obvious one wouldn’t have been possible or as successful without the other. Seems I’m finally in the game after years on the bench. It’s not the answer, but it’s definitely a start.


I did find it strange at first that, even though world’s apart, this role and my last had so much in common. I don’t think a day passed when I haven’t been confronted by familiar scenario, problem, complaint, concern or even a funny gag. But you quickly realise, or maybe learn, that even though language, history and culture maybe different, if you strip away your own misguided prejudices and make a bit of effort, people are fundamentally the same. I think some of the teachers and kids are still laughing about the time Innocent and Joseph's passionate lovemaking brought lessons to an abrupt halt. The centre’s pigs of course; recently named after the Head & centre Directors - one of my better ideas. One for the Buddhists; a pig’s orgasm lasts 30 minutes.


On the subject of lessons, I’ve lost count how many times I’ve used my favourite ‘it’s only a mistake if it happens twice’ saying, most recently and memorably when I had to tell our Finance Director I’d filled his truck with diesel. It takes petrol. For the more mechanically challenged, that’s a bad thing to do. In London you’d be kissing goodbye to your car for at least a week and the best part of 500 quid to boot. But, this is Africa and with the help of a local mechanic, his 15 able apprentices and more than 200 spectators, I was back on the road less than 30 minutes later and with change out of a tenner. Third World my arse.


But don’t get me wrong they do do quite a few things ‘differently’ here, unfortunately not always for the right reasons or any reason for that matter and certainly not for as many as they would have me believe when I first arrived. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve heard the words ..

“NE-il, what you say is right..(pause) BUT… in Rwaaanda”.


Take meetings for instance. As Development Director it’s a big part of my job to meet and curry favour with the relevant government departments and local dignitaries, especially bearing in mind I need to get the school accredited quick smart. Otherwise we’re all eating motoke for another 12 months. Unfortunately for me Rwanda is not short of these…to say this is a very hierarchal society would be a somewhat of an understatement; we needed permission from a local leader, sector leader, provincial leader, district leader, two Ministers (Labour & Education) and the Mayor just to put a sign up outside our school. Land of a Thousand ‘Leaders’ would be a far more appropriate.


But in a country with few natural resources, a highly organised and motivated nation is one of the few assets left at your disposal and focused in the right way it can have fantastic results. A fact President Paul knows all too well, as he tries to convert his nation of farmers into Africa’s IT Helpdesk. Sadly the devastating effects of misuse are all to clear to all Rwandans, none more so than those in my village, home to the more mass murderers and child killers than anywhere else in the world, over 12,000 at one point, Nsinda Prison.

The process for getting in front of right people tends to follow an all too familiar pattern. It’ll normally take you around two months and more than 100 phone calls to track down the right person and a similar amount of time to get an appointment. It doesn’t help the fact that everyone here owns a mobile phone, sometimes several but no one can afford the airtime. After 2-3 last minute cancellations and two hours in a draughty corridor, you’ll finally meet, discovering to your horror that this very important, incredibly elusive guy/lady happens to be best friends or worse related to the man standing next to you - you’re colleague. It’s amazing how in a country of 9 million people everyone still knows everyone else, but god know what they talk about because they clearly don’t know what each other does.

So, extremely politely and in perfect ‘English’ we hold hands and exchange pleasantries, you know; How are you? Where are you staying? How have you found living in Rwanda? Favourite food? Would you like to come to my wedding? Aren’t Rwandans beautiful? Do you have a Rwandan girlfriend? Would you like one? Etc….for around 20-30 minutes…all very nice.

Then, and this has happened on nearly every occasion, the main man/lady/ Minister/ Chief of Prisons will turn to me and say …

“You’ll have to excuse us as we don’t speak very good English, so we’ll be conducting the meeting in Kinyarwanda” (the local language)


At first I would try to persuade them, but it quickly became apparent my efforts were futile, although thinking about it, perhaps they didn’t understand me. So I have no alternative but to leave it in the less than capable hands of my partner in crime for ‘robbing’ (Coincidentally like the Chinese, Rwandans swap L’s with R’s and often miss off a ‘Y’ when they speak i.e. ‘Lobbying’) the school’s President and no prizes for guessing who came up with that job title.


Now, in the first meeting I sat quietly feigning interest, like you do, allowing the President to waffle on without translating a word, assuming they were talking shop i.e. very important school accreditation stuff. Sadly, a grave error, because as we walked to the car, I discovered the pleasantries had continued for another 60 long minutes, right up to the end of the meeting, down the corridor and out through the main doors. He’d neglected to even raise the topic of accreditation, the reason for us waiting and calling for 2 months. So like I said then ‘its only a mistake if it happens twice’ and now we have a cunning system for over coming the language barrier in meetings. I kick him under the table every 5-7 minutes and he translates perfectly…that’s real ‘development’ for you.


It may or may not come as surprise that Rwandan’s lurve Scrabble, perfect for practicing your English and a lot cheaper than going down the pub. Although that’s exactly where most of the games are played but most people cant afford the beer, so a lift home’s not a problem (if they’ve passed their test). So after receiving numerous invitations I finally succumbed and accepted a game with a few of the many local leaders. I have to say I was a little reticent, as I don’t like to lose and I thought I might have to, just to keep Anglo-Rwandan relations at their current high.


But it wasn’t long before I realised it wasn’t going to be, if you pardon the expression, quite the whitewash I first anticipated. To be honest it should have been obvious when the board (French travel edition, 4 for a Z and 5 for a C!) arrived with a second larger box containing four of the biggest well thumbed dictionaries you’ve ever seen …Cambridge Complete Learners, Oxford English Extended…you get the picture. Within 20 minutes I think id consulted two of them at least five times….I’ve never seen so many 2 and 3 letter words in my life, it was like reading an interview with Gareth Gates…’um’, ‘eh’, ‘ye’,‘ah’, ‘ex’, ‘re’, 'ja' and they were the ones that got past the judges (yeah ‘um’ is a word, look it up, I did). Mutabingwe even managed to score 36 points with one letter e, obviously the man responsible for eh and ye.


After further disagreements about whether you can swap all seven pieces if you intentionally miss a go and the reuse of blank pieces, I didn’t give a monkey’s about Anglo/ Rwandan relations and quite frankly they could whistle for their so called ‘second language’ bonus. But you’ll be pleased to hear that whilst they may have had numbers on their side and the element of surprise, I had the last ‘Z’ with ‘EALOT’ on a triple word score, for a game winning 56 points - hoorah! I must confess and I’m not proud of myself, there was a little gloating on my part, but a swift round of goat brochettes seemed to calm proceedings and I reckon we’re all still friends. Ban Ki-Moon take note.




* From what I can remember the big guy would change out of his Darth Vader outfit, throw on a pair of green pants and visit primary schools, preaching the benefits of looking both ways before crossing and, if my memory serves me right, we’d get a smiley sticker for our wall chart if no-one had been run over that month. Incidentally this is the same ‘Primary’ school where the games teacher (Mr Burnhams) would look down the front of our shorts to check we’d changed out of our pants! I’ll be saving those to gems for my next hand holding session with the Rwandan Minister of Education.

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Photos

Skoolz out
Youll be pleased to hear..she's not mental...

Who needs Kofi and Ban Ki..when you've got Paris
U gotta love those americans...maybe not.

Our New Headmaster
Visibly chuffed after my generous salary offer!

Rwand's No 1. Crowd Pleaser
Standing room only!

The only time its safe to go down a pit latrine?
During construction

Jona and Gang
If you havent got a ticket youre not comin in (to our Pre School)...alright!?

Mama Chalquera's Bakery
Rwanda's Greggs...well almost!

Joseph - The Pig
Resting after another busy night!

We have a sign!
and boy are we proud of it!!

News flash..Rwanda's Daily
Big Thanks to John Petherick from some of Rwandas little
ist people.