Into Uganda - Part 2

Kampala is a traffic nightmare but, in one of those development paradoxes, mainstream economists often argue that this is good thing as it demonstrates the spending power of a growing middle class. It certainly makes Kigali, despite its surge in 4x4s, look like toy town in comparison. There are 33 regional languages in Uganda with English as the official one and the medium of instruction in schools and universities. It was odd being in a country again where you don't have to make any effort to speak a local language although many of the Bantu-related ones in the south bear a striking resemblance to Kinyarwanda. There is also a large number of Rwandan émigrés who have settled there as farmers following the many conflicts across the border.

Kampala

Prior to the arrival of the British, Uganda was a series of autonomous kingdoms and during the colonial divide and rule period it was convenient to allow each kingdom a degree of authority. After independence this arrangement collapsed and although the kings of Buganda (known as the Kabaka), Bunyoro, Toro etc still exist, they are ceremonial positions. They get to have a nice big house and carry out cultural maintenance duties for their government stipend. In Masindi in the north west near Murchison NP, the beautifully restored Masindi Hotel is the hang out of the Bunyoro king who comes into the Ernest Hemingway bar most nights for a Nile Special.

Goat and chicken brochette sellers

Unfortunately, the night we were there was his evening at home with the missus so I got to join a group of fanatical Manchester United supporters instead watching the team come back from the dead to beat Manchester City in the Charity Shield season opener. The love affair with English football in Africa continues to grow apace. The Ernest Hemingway story is an interesting one as the famous writer, adventurer, womaniser and heavy drinker, not only propped up the Masindi bar in the early '50s, but suffered a horrific plane crash in Murchison sustaining the injuries and lasting pain that some say led to his eventual suicide in 1961.

With Eduardo and Simone

It was rare to meet someone travelling in Uganda who was purely on holiday. Nearly everyone seemed to be there, at least in part, on some form of goodwill or volunteer tourism. Nick, an English/Aussie, was trying to set up a viable fair trade coffee enterprise in East Africa; Maria from Madrid wanted to help orphans in Gulu in Northern Uganda brutalised by Joseph Kone and his egregious Lord's Resistance Army; hilarious Jeff, who ran a bicycle shop in New Orleans, was visiting to help kick start a bike rental business in Jinja; two young Brazilians, Eduardo and Simone, wanted to get involved in refugee issues but hadn't been accepted into the Somali camps in NE Kenya so were looking for someone worthwhile to do in Uganda; an Indian optometrist who had been kicked out by Idi Amin in 1972 and now lived in Canada, had come back to work with a group of expert volunteers on eye and ear related problems in remote eastern Uganda. In two weeks 10,000 people had been treated.

Village bandas

It wasn't all one way. A group of Dutch social entrepreneurs were visiting to learn from Ugandan small-scale traders on how to bring the human dimension back into the Dutch work environment. One of them, Jasper, was the most incredibly precocious 21 year old I have ever met. He was tutored privately from the age of three by his rich parents, started his own business at 12 and currently earns $1000 a day doing training workshops for large corporations in Holland. Wow! Imagine having the confidence to lay it on to a bunch of middle-aged suits at that tender age. And better still the suits seem to want it! I think I was just working out my arse from my elbow at 21. I would love to be the proverbial fly at one of his sessions as, despite my sociological background, a deep fog descends on my brain when someone starts rattling on about the intrinsic, value adding, capacity building merits of constructing social capital. One thing is sure; I bet the Ugandan traders they were learning from didn't use PowerPoint. And yet, Jasper wasn't achieving enough according to his super demanding dad, especially compared to his sister, who at 19 was only two years short of graduating as a doctor. They had become estranged and Jasper was soon going off to the US to study for a year at an Ivy League university financed by his own acumen. Initially, I thought of my early 20s - a lot of which seems, with hindsight, to have been spent sitting around listening to Dark Side of the Moon, Tubular Bells and the like trying to work out the meaning of it all - and felt envious of his rapid maturity. This is what happens when the mortality clock imposes a new appreciation of the preciousness of time. But, hey, gradual learning has its upside and at least I'm still on good terms with my two sons!

The crater lake  pic on the 20,000 shilling note

At one of the many beautiful crater lakes near Fort Portal in the west we came across an interesting volunteer programme where two Canadian women were helping plant native vegetation on the lake hillsides as well as set up a local library in the nearby village. A group of Spanish girls, each one more gorgeous than the other, were lounging around the lakeside reading fat novels. They had come for two weeks to teach (heavily accented) English to small children in an orphanage. We took a trip through the community protected forest with its plentiful Red Colobus and Black and white Colobus Monkeys, and bevies of Great blue Turaco until we reached the impoverished village where the library was located in a small roadside shack. Raggedy, barefoot children appeared out of the mud to stare at the pictures of snow-capped peaks and ancient temples in well-thumbed National Geographic magazines. The library door has to be kept locked otherwise the contents would all disappear and the Canadians, who were leaving the next day after a two month stint, said that a small amount of funding had been found to pay someone to supervise the library for an hour or so daily.

The rave up

Their imminent departure meant that we had arrived on the noisiest night ever experienced in crater lake country as a massive sound system was brought in from Fort Portal at the Canadians' expense and a goat slaughtered to celebrate the occasion. There was nowt else to do but join in and I danced non-stop for a couple of hours protocol dictating that I should hold hands with the African men and not the Spanish girls. That would have been too weird. And, by the way, I can assure you that not all African men have rhythm. I eventually went back to our Banda and crawled in under the mosquito net to join Stella who had retreated much earlier and was gamely attempting, by torchlight and with earplugs, to catch up on six-week-old world events in the Guardian Weekly. We didn't have mallets to knock each other out so went for more modern emergency sleeping pills which successfully blotted out not only the disco but also the torrential rain that fell during the night. Hooray for drugs - legitimate ones of course.

The village library

Into Uganda

We arrived at Jinja, east of the horrifically traffic congested Kampala, some days into the trip. This is still promoted as the source of the Nile where the great river comes out of Lake Victoria heading north and there is a John Hanning Speke statue in recognition of the hairy-faced Englishman's triumph after his many years of searching. Pity he got it wrong because everyone now knows the new, true source of the Nile is in Nyungwe forest in Rwanda, right? I've even got the picture to prove it! After all, water has to flow into Lake Victoria from somewhere. (Just ignore those upstart Burundians who are claiming a yet more distant source with the publicity and dollars it can bring. I suspect this soggy little saga has quite a ways to run yet)

Roofless colonial period house in Jinja which is still lived in

Anyway, the rundown hotel where we were staying had an Internet service which, despite East African computer virus paranoia, I felt compelled to use. I asked the delightful, young receptionist (turns out she was 20) how to start the machine up and a little dinosaur icon waddled across the opening screen. Ha, ha, that's cute I said to make conversation. What followed went something like this:
"What is it?"
"It's a dinosaur."
"Can you find it in the forest?"
"No, they're extinct, they all died out a long time ago."
"Before I was born."
"Yes."
"Before my mother was born."
"Yes."
"Even before you were born."

Okay, so will you now kindly stop knocking the education system in your neck of the woods? (Except, that is, for any US Bible Belt readers - please carry on complaining) And, by the way, I wasn't offended but quite pleased to imagine that I might have been around when pterodactyls still patrolled the skies. It obviously explains my interest in ornithology.

The extraordinary Shoebill at Mabamba Swamp on the shores of Lake Victoria

Lake Victoria is immense and looks for all the world like an inland ocean. It still hasn't stopped it from being overexploited. Overseas demand for fresh water fish has grown phenomenally since the 1990s and a lot of people have taken up fishing especially in response to increased prices. Tilapia and Nile perch stocks, the two favourite species, have plummeted. More fishermen seeking fewer fish has led to conflict with hippos and at least six fishermen have died in the lake since the beginning of the year. Here's how it works. Where the hippos are, fish thrive on their dung so the fishermen take ever more risks in trying to cast their nets where the herbivorous but highly territorial hippos may charge and overturn the fishing boats, scrunching anything in their way.

One of the troublemakers

In an act of self preservation but employment short sightedness, many fishermen would like the Uganda Wildlife Authority to cull the hippos which would, of course, reduce the dung and thus the fish numbers. This situation is not likely to get better any time soon. Like many countries in Africa, Uganda is experiencing a huge population explosion. The current birth rate is 5.9 children per married woman, the third highest in the world after Yemen and Niger. The current population is 34 million and is expected to reach over 130 million by 2050 at the present growth rate. Human -wildlife conflicts are only likely to worsen as land and resource pressures increase.

A big hippo pod on Lake Edward

Later in the trip at Queen Elizabeth National Park I asked the guide how many people had been killed by dangerous critters during his seven years doing the job. The score card reads: lions = 3; buffaloes = 2; elephants = 1; AND hippos a whopping 30 due to their close proximity to people not just on water but at night on land when they often pass very close to fishing villages on their grazing routes. In QENP there are 11 villages with a combined 15,000 population exploiting Lake Edward in a supposedly sustainable way and we were told that many people have to stay indoors during the evening rush hour when hippos pass between some of the closely built houses. Richard, our tour organiser in Fort Portal in the west of the country, had a narrow escape once when hippos capsized a boat he was in and four of his six-person party did not resurface.

The Ugandan press attack the President's desire to give away part of a precious rainforest for sugar cane

Unlike Rwanda, some of the Ugandan newspapers are worth reading. Even the raunchy Red Pepper adds a bit of spice to daily reading life. My favourite was the Daily Monitor which is allowed - surprisingly given the authoritarian nature of the regime - to get stuck into President Museveni's government and its rampant corruption. The big story during much of our stay was the president's renewed desire to give away over 7000 hectares of the magnificent Mabira Forest near Jinja, which we birded, to an Indian sugar baron, Mr Mehta. Everyone thought that the matter had been laid to rest because the last time the proposal came up in 2007 there were riots in Kampala and three people were killed.

The strength of the public's response to the give away

The attacks against Museveni for this potential folly have been coming from all quarters including his own party. The unanimity of opinion against the move is refreshing and speaks of a strong and growing environmental movement in the country. Every article and letter on the subject, while we were there, was anti the proposal and the worry is that the actions of the Mehta group in continuing to pursue the carve up one of Uganda's last remaining tropical expanses could inflame anti-Indian feeling similar to what erupted in the early 1970s under Idi Amin. It is only in recent years that Indians have started returning to the country after the 1972 expulsions but there are growlings, not just about the Mabira move but the domination by Indians of the tea plantations which frequently employ Ugandan children under the legal age of 18 thus discouraging them from completing their schooling.

The exquisite Northern Carmine Bee-eater

Someone jokingly wrote in the Monitor that there must be oil under Mabira because it's not as if there isn't alternative land where sugar could be grown. The escalating sugar price, as a result of shortages, is ostensibly the principal reason driving Museveni to reopen the issue of gifting the precious forest land - that and a healthy donation from the mega-rich Mr Mehta, no doubt, to the depleted government coffers and its big wigs following the vast outlays necessary to secure victory in the recent pork barrel election.

Black and white Colobus Monkey

Speaking of oil it has recently been discovered in big quantities in the Nile Delta flowing into Lake Albert in the north west of the country and already there are fights over entitlements and how the wealth will be divvied up with a controversial proposal by a foreign Think Tank that the revenues be given to each individual Ugandan as a Mobile Money bonus instead of the usual siphoning of the profits by the fat cats. This is easily done in a society where virtually everyone has a mobile phone but I won't hold my breath. Where oil is found, especially in Africa, trouble invariably follows. Just ask those living in the Niger Delta.

Murchison Falls

The oil exploration area is just west of Murchison NP and it will be very interesting to see how this issue plays out. Oil is big bikkies of course and everyone accepts that it will proceed and indeed seems to believe that it will be extracted in an environmentally friendly way! Ugandans are immensely proud of their national parks and wildlife reserves and there is generally little sympathy for small scale 'encroachers' who nibble away at the edges for firewood and cattle grazing. The indigenous pygmy Batwa were even thrown out of their traditional hunting areas in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest in the south west of the country rather than compromise gorilla tourism and its almighty dollar.

Anyone recognise this fellow?

Tour guiding is a growth industry and we came across over 20 trainee bird guides at a swamp outside Fort Portal. (That is a massive number in a tourism sector that is still very small). Half of them were women and I asked one, who was invited to come along on the walk with us, what her future plans were. "I am a lady so would like to be a businesswoman selling ladies' products," she said. "That, and to know all the birds". That is some combo! I have this vision of her on a tour identifying bird calls in between flogging Amway. Yes that's a Black-headed Gonolek, now would you like some hair straightening cream?

More in next episode.

A Rural Wedding

Our night guard, Justin, promised to invite us to his house some months ago. He wanted it to be during the dry season which is unsurprisingly also a good time for weddings so we got to kill two birds with one stone when he handed us a delightful little invitation to the wedding of his cousin in Kirehe district south of Ngoma on the way to Tanzania.

The invitation

Theo, our friend and Kinyarwanda teacher, was also invited and we set off by minibus in the morning. It's always nice to have Theo along, not just because he's a lovely guy, but because it takes the stress out of travel when you have a 'tour' guide who knows the ropes. We were to stop at the 114 kilometre stone from Kigali where Justin duly met us and took us to his house beside the busy road. Although it was before 11 o'clock his wife, Emmeline, regaled us with a big, tasty feed. Everyone got a coca cola too. Stella and I got to cuddle their new baby Philippe. Apparently the child doesn't like being handled by others but the muzungu magic seemed to work wonders and he slept, wheezed or smiled in our arms.

Theo and Justin with Philippe and Delphine, Justin's daughter

We all then walked along the road and up a slight incline to the bride's family home where the first part of the day's festivities was to take place. An awning had been put up over the front yard as shelter from the sun and a huge crowd of people was gathered on either side. With Justin leading, we squeezed our way through. There was a buzz as the guests all gazed expectantly in our direction. I said 'amakuru?' (how are you?) and in unison everyone chanted back 'ni meza' (well/fine) the force of which gave me a backbone tingle. We were led to comfy seats of honour facing the house which we automatically tried to refuse out of embarrassment, but only half-heartedly. This was clearly where we were meant to be and it was almost as if everyone had been waiting for us to arrive before the show could begin.

Scene from the house window

Once seated, we waved to the crowd and I shook the hands of those close by. An old guy to my left was clearly enjoying himself supping from a straw out of a gourd - sorghum beer said Theo, the moot point being whether it was alcoholic which the church would frown upon being drunk in public. He proceeded to fill the gourds of his companions with the murky liquid out of a jerrycan which had seen better days. It was great to have so many old people present as you don't see too many out and about. We were each given another coke something we seldom drink (unless it has a splash of rum!). I was thinking of the 16 spoons of sugar in my system from the two bottles but it would have been rude to refuse. I'll have to dry out when I get back to Australia! I don't think diabetes is a problem in rural Rwanda because they don't eat enough junk food, and sugary drinks tend to be for special occasions only as they are too expensive for day-to-day consumption.

The bride appears

A wedding 'spokesperson' shakes hands

Suddenly there was a commotion at the front door and the bride and groom appeared together. Although this was prior to the official church ceremony it was important for the bride's family, friends and neighbours to see them both in marriage gear as many wouldn't be able to go to the church service and the following visit to the groom's village where they would make their home. The couple met through singing in the church choir but they live about half an hour apart by road, a not inconsiderable distance in a society where the vast majority of people have no private means of transport. They moved around the limited space being presented to family members, the bride looking as miserable as possible at the knowledge of leaving her home.

Justin's mother

The booty

Eventually they departed, off to the church well ahead of the 2 o'clock service. This was the signal for their household goods to be carried out of the house and piled up in the yard in readiness for transportation to the couple's new home. Rwanda is a brideprice society, although most refer to it as a dowry, where the groom with the help of his family contribute a minimum $250 cow or its equivalent value to the marriage union. However, Theo was impressed at the value of the goods being brought out by the bride's family. Apart from furniture, a paraffin lamp, storage containers and a mattress, there was a bicycle and churns for the yoghurt. 'You know an able woman when she is churning' says a Rwandan cow-related proverb just as 'you know an able man when he is milking'.

Stella in wedding garb with goods waiting for minibus to the church

All the goods were brought down to the roadside and we hung about waiting for our minibus to the church. We got there with the service in full flow and I was immediately called into action as the official photographer hadn't turned up. A few others were snapping still using old instamatic film cameras. In many ways it was a typical Christian marriage ceremony except for the registry signing being done in full view (and no dad giving away the bride). There was no vestry in the rudimentary church building in any case. The choir was a funky African one of course and the instrumental support came from an electronic piano powered from a car battery.

The blessing

After the service we waited for our Chelsea supporting minibus driver with his dangerous, broken passenger door (it kept swinging open) to take us to the concluding part of the ceremony in the groom's village. There a house had been specially built for the young couple at the top of the escarpment overlooking the rice paddies in the valley below. It was quite a drive off the main road. When the imodoka (motor car!) minibus could go no further we started walking with half the gathering crowd paying attention to the young couple and the other half (especially the children of course) to us. There were welcoming committees along the way as villagers came out to sing and applaud the bridal couple. Periodically, they would stop to allow their person-in-waiting to dab at face sweat droplets which might spoil the perfection of their appearance and thus the day.

Face dabber at work. Groom's dabber with tissue at the ready

We went on ahead and took our seats next to a new expectant crowd. They were also mostly locals. With only two minibus loads having made the journey here we were indeed privileged. As the couple and their entourage continued to wait in the shade of a tree we asked what the hold up was. Apparently it was bad form for the couple to arrive before their household goods. It must have been stifling in the wedding gear as the day was hotter than usual. Eventually the stuff arrived and was brought directly into the house. I was free to go in and roam around. 'That's not where I wanted the chest of drawers put!' I could imagine the discussions afterwards. 'Thank goodness that day is over. Now to put our feet up and have a nice cup of tea!'

The newly built house for the young couple

The woman carrying the suitcase didn't even duck. There must have been a dress rehearsal!

But there was more! The couple had to go and sit down under the hot awning for an interminable period while the two families formally exchanged airmail envelopes, apparently containing best wishes and (maybe) money. No brown envelopes please! Then the speeches began. There's not much banter among guests at Rwandan gatherings but they are given to much solemn speechifying. I had been half expecting to speak at the bride's house and was mentally prepared but, by this time, I had switched off and was thinking of the Primus beer that Justin had promised back at his house. Suddenly I was told that it was my turn to 'guha ijambo' (lit. to give a word). For some reason the first word that came out of my mouth was 'amafaranga' (money). I was like Pavlov's dog. The key street word had obviously permeated my brain. I recovered, no one seemed to notice the faux pas - maybe they were just being kind or, since abazungu are made of amafaranga, they thought it would simply pour out of me there and then. Anyway, I made one of my poorer speeches in Kinyarwanda since I felt confident enough to stand up and talk in the language.

The million dollar view from the house (to the left)

During one of the other speeches, I kept hearing abazungu (white people) again and again and asked Theo for the context. It seems to have another meaning which is 'to be exact in what you do', supposedly one of our traits. The literal translation of part of the speech came back as follows: if you work like a white person (gukora nk'abazungu) you will ascend to heaven where the original abazungu sat at God's right hand making all people equal. How it got from the right hand to equality I don't know but we sure have a lot to live up to.

Under the awning at the groom's village and their new home. Bride's mother sitting to the right with tiara. The bride also had a crown but with flashing tiara!

The speeches finally over, there were some dances, a piece of poetry reading by a young boy that brought the house down, some food - which had been cooked in the backyard of the newly weds - including an important drink and food sharing moment between the couple, and the coup de grace - the receiving of presents from guests. These included our own contribution, on Theo's recommendation, of popular batik-style cotton. The bride continued to look glum the whole time the presents were given although Stella says she was smiling during my speech. Nice to know that those well crafted jokes cut through!

The sip from the hand of the groom that signifies so much

By this time it was getting quite late and we went, along with half the crowd, for a final sticky beak inside the couple's house. I glanced into the bedroom and saw the pair's individual minders dabbing at their faces as they sat on the bed. Then we had to hang around waiting for the Chelsea supporter to come back with his barely functioning minibus and take us to Justin's house for the promised Primus to finish off the day. We did get back eventually and drank beer in the candle light of Justin's front room where we analysed the events of the day and forged new bonds in Rwandan/Australian relations. We had of course left it too late to catch the last bus home and ended up hitching our first ever lift in the country on a truck going only part way back to Kibungo. At the point where the truck turned off we managed to find three motos to take us home for a suitably inflated evening price. The beautiful, star-lit sky, infusion of beer, cool evening breeze, exhilaration of speed and the knowledge that we were going to be able to get home after all, combined to imbue with a feeling of utter contentment after such a wonderful experience. We both agreed that it was probably the best day we have yet spent in Rwanda.

A rave affair - the Kibungo Expo

Last week Jen, a VSO methodology teacher from a nearby TTC (teacher training college), and I were asked to have an educational stand at the District of Ngoma Expo. Nearly $100 was required for the privilege - more than three months average household expenditure in these parts. Jen brought a load of English teaching goodies from her village and we turned up in the local field at the appointed time to dress our stand with as much panache and bunting as we could muster. Well, the crowds had never seen anything like it and, if there had been an award for best-attended stall, we would have won it hands down. Apparently we got big coverage on Rwandan national television.

Before the crowds, Jen and Theo prepare the displays. The pic looks into biogas space in shared tent

Most came to look on in amazement, as one might at recently discovered species from a remote valley in a far off land. Others, more worldly, wanted to glance at some of the reading materials or play the simple board games we had laid out. No one seemed to have heard of 'Snakes and Ladders' or other dice throwing games which can also be used to teach numbers or shapes. Teenagers played them endlessly with great relish never tiring of a simplicity that would have had most much younger western children bored within a few minutes. Students from a nearby secondary school asked questions about Snakes and Ladders like: 'what is the probability of winning?' or, 'what is the purpose of this game?' I had explained that it was used to give children confidence with 1 to 100 numbers in English but one particular student wanted more until I eventually said 'enjoyment'. 'That is not an objective' she said and walked off. Rwandans can be a very literal and serious people.

Crowds around the table

The District Education Officer was bitterly disappointed that Jen had not brought a dog-eared imitation cockerel and fake fish that he had seen in her resource room when touring the district with the Education Minister. He was on the blower in a trice demanding that the fish and cock be put on a bus in a special box and transported directly to the Expo! He must have been on to something because they became the star attractions of the stall. People would wander in and immediately pick them up in utter astonishment. Several wanted their pictures taken with Keza (the Beautiful) and the Fish (we had a 'Name the Cock' competition - sorry Fish).

Fish and Keza the Cock with fan

Some of our star quality rubbed off on the adjacent stall promoting biogas which their sniffy presenter had wanted sectioned off in a swirl of fabric. I urged open tent space with its symbiotic feedback loops and complementary synergies! Actually, they got all of the benefit from our crowd spillover with exhausted fish, cock, snake and ladder aficionados suddenly learning of the multiple benefits of using cow dung as a source of household cooking gas, light and fertiliser. Here I have to fess up to ignorance at the time of writing last week's post. I was wrongly informed that all cow dung for use as biogas had to be taken to Kigali and was unaware of the nascent small-scale biogas market. Gee, it's interesting. Here's how it works. In the schematic representation shown in the picture, slurry (cow dung and water) is fed through the spout on the left into the container (digester). The spout is closed off and the slurry ferments for around one month initially before producing methane through a small hole at the top of the digester which is connected to a pipe into the house. Fertiliser is automatically expelled into the tray on the right. Once functioning, the fermentation process is continuous with roughly four hours of energy time available for each digester load of slurry.

Expo representation of biogas digester with methane lamp on right

That's the good news. The bad news is the purchase and installation cost of about $1300 equivalent, which is a monumental sum for most farmers. $500 of that is a subsidy and the remainder is paid off over a three-year period in monthly instalments of roughly $20. Bear in mind that the average income/expenditure for most farmers is around $30 a month and you can see that during the pay back period they have to survive on about $10 a month. I asked one of the stand presenters about this and his argument was that the benefits of using the gas would offset the disadvantages, but collection of firewood as cooking fuel and absence of lighting are not current financial costs and the benefits of the fertiliser are a longer term gain. He admitted that promoting the biogas units to poorer farmers, with no surplus income and thus minimal opportunity to save, was a tough sell. Nonetheless, he said that the take up in Ngoma district was better than other parts of the country although he was vague on the actual figures. Here's hoping the costs come down, or the subsidy goes up, because it sounds like a top class idea.

Drawing of what the digester looks like next to a house

The Expo was a two day affair and we left the materials in the tent overnight knowing there was more than a modicum of security; the area was being patrolled by guards with rifles, others with heavy batons and yet more holding the thin, long sticks beloved of Rwandan school teachers and used for threatening recalcitrants with a good skelp across the legs! Confident that Fish, Keza the Cock, and the board games and posters were safe, we headed up to the beer tent where an alcohol-fuelled jollity was gaining steam. We were offered a muzungu, rules-exempt, separate table outside the roped off drinking area but declined. Being accorded special treatment happens occasionally and it can be tempting to accept. For example, last weekend on our way to Rusomo Falls two men, who were sitting in the front of the minibus, were asked by the conductor to move to the back and give the seats to us. We were bundled in quickly but didn't say no. Oh dear, does that sound bad? We had actually said that we preferred to wait for the next bus than be crammed in at the back. Anyway, I think I'll get over it.

Some traditional ladies in the crowd

Relaxing in the perfect late afternoon temperature, chilled Mutzig beer in hand, mellow from post-stall fatigue, bantering with the friendly crowd and shaking hands with all my new friends who came up to say hullo, there was nowhere else on earth I would rather have been. It could have been Womadelaide or Woodford minus the blazing sun or drenching rain. Music drifted up from an imaginary stage somewhere to the left and couples frolicked to my right. Their behaviour - a girl sitting on a guy's lap - and appearance - some eccentrically dressed cool dudes - did not belong in the day-to-day Kibungo that I know. Maybe the magic of the Expo had loosened Rwanda's gender rules and also brought some odd clothes items out of the back room jumble box. Our friend Theo thought that some of the girls were 'probably prostitutes' but I maintain they were just a bunch of young people at a festival letting it all hang out.

Expo dancers

Milk, manure and manners

Ngoma district, where I work in SE Rwanda, is divided into 14 sectors and it is one of my jobs to try to organise head teacher training in all of them. School planning, teaching/learning objectives and assessment/evaluation procedures are just some of the areas needing attention. It is a tough job to set up these meetings as few of the head teachers have email and the majority don't seem to be confident in replying to my painstakingly long text messages in French and English. Talking on the phone can be frustrating too as there are over 70 head teachers in the district and they may not know who I am. Trying to explain the purpose of the training sessions over a fuzzy line in different languages can be challenging to say the least. I can also wait for them to come into the office, which they do from time to time, but it is a pretty random way to organise things especially if I don't know what they look like and they don't introduce themselves. Or, I can jump on a moto to pay them a visit. However, it is costly taking motos all the time. It is probably the biggest collective expense that VSO has, taking into account the, nearly, 50 volunteers currently in the country.

Market with usual bricks in Rukira sector

So, it was great to hook up with a Canadian project which is currently operating in the district and hop on a bus they had booked to visit different offices in one of the more remote sectors. There I hoped to meet some teachers as well as the sector Chargé des Affaires Sociales who is supposed to assist the head teachers with school matters. I was also going to take part in a student study project inquiring how sector farmers had benefited by being given a cow as part of the government's girinka (one cow per family) programme. A long questionnaire was developed by the Canadian researcher and each student, who was with us on the bus, was to be allocated a farmer (known as a 'beneficiary') to ask a series of questions about how much milk the cow had produced, health issues it had had and, very importantly, how much manure it had produced and what it was being used for. There is a bio-diesel factory outside Kigali and I was told that part of the girinka project is to encourage farmers to sell the cow dung to the factory where the slurry is fed into a digester producing methane for the market. The problem, of course, is how a small-scale farmer gets the manure to Kigali and whether the quantity is enough to justify the transportation costs. Maybe, in time-honoured simplicity, it is better to put the dung on the soil to improve local land productivity without the need for artificial fertilisers.

Student with farmer 'beneficiary' doing questionnaire

In a sense, this issue is part of the Rwandan dilemma defined through the land consolidation programme which seeks to concentrate production of certain commodities in geographically defined districts - bananas here in the east, maize in the valleys, manioc in the west, potatoes up north etc - for greater output which can then theoretically be exported for much needed revenue. This is a small subsistence economy with big market aspirations. The only problem is that already there is a surplus of potatoes, tomatoes and bananas with limited opportunities for use. Even with a convoy of lorries moving freight on the good, main road system it is unclear where the markets would be. There is also the problem of escalating fuel costs causing big hikes in transported basic foodstuffs and this has been the cause of major social disturbances in the Ugandan and Kenyan capitals. It is not a problem yet in this tightly controlled society although imported goods like sugar and rice both went up in price by 30% recently.

Students interviewing farmers in front of 'cell' office

The government's long-term desire is to add value to the primary produce by creating a manufacturing industry in different parts of the country. It's all part of the plan to make Rwanda a middle-income nation by 2020. Are there any investors reading this who'd like to build a tinned tomato plant in Kibungo? Didn't think so. I heard on the BBC World Service the other day that, in the whole of Ethiopia, there are only five manufacturing industries which employ around 500 people - out of a population of 82 million! But, of course, the template for economic development in Africa is the same as elsewhere with all of its pluses and minuses. The desire is to create a middle class with an expendable income for the purchase of the sort of consumer goods that we, in the west, take for granted. Kigali is already that in microcosm. Perhaps it's easy from my comfort zone to worry about the extreme city/rural income divide being perpetuated in African countries but equitable development models are very hard to come by in a world run by large multinationals looking for quick profits with minimum inconvenience and maximum tax advantage. Kigali is setting itself up to attract foreign investment in a big way and is going to be a bit more appealing than a place like Kibungo as a centre for development.

Excited primary pupils line up to greet me

Meanwhile back in isolated Rukira sector a group of primary students lined up on an embankment to welcome me, chanting in unison 'it is very fine to see you', the first time I'd heard that particular refrain. This was followed by one little squib asking the customary 'how old are?' When I gave my usual weak response of '25', one child piped up, 'you are a liar.' My mum would have had that youngster's mouth washed out in soapy water but like 'give me chalk' instead of 'please may I have some chalk' it is simply a translation of what is said in Kinyarwanda with none of the polite locutions that we require in English. I'm going to empty my pockets for the next beggar who stops me in the street and says, ' would you mind giving me some money?' If they can set up courses in English for Accounting Purposes nowadays then why not ERB - English for Refined Beggars.

Ankole cow - long on horn but low on milk

I'm expecting to hear the results of the questionnaire very soon so I'll keep you posted. I'm sure that Rwandan milk production and manure uses have you riveted. I can, however, give you a little advance taster. Did you know that an East African Ankole long-horned cow produces five litres of milk a day whereas a Friesian produces 25? So, think about that next time you're adding it to your moo-sli.

Children gather near our mini-bus for the event of the season

You will also be pleased to know that I was able to meet one head teacher and, briefly, the Chargé during the visit. This led to a very successful training session in Rukira the following week. Which just goes to prove the wisdom of many Rwandan cow-related proverbs including this one: 'ubonye ifambire agira amahirwe' - 'he who finds good dung, will find good luck.'

Unlocking Nyungwe's Secrets

Entering the Nyungwe National Park we immediately saw groups of Olive Baboon by the roadside followed shortly after by a troop of L'Hoest's Monkey. Nyungwe is the stronghold of this attractive monkey and the only place where they are really common. Silver Monkey was seen shortly after. This species is now split from the Blue Monkey cluster. We didn't dilly-dally as we were anxious to get to our respective destinations, Jared and Michelle, our travelling companions, to the campground before dark, and Stella and me to the newly built Top View Hotel somewhere in Gisakura west of the park.

L'Hoest's Monkey

Next morning (July 2) we were to meet at the campground at 5.30 to go chimp tracking. This required us leaving the hotel no later than 4.45 so we were up around 4. Horrific! I wrote in the last post about the chimp tracking experience and its disappointment not so much in not seeing the chimps as in the fact that we didn't really do any tracking apart from a brief descent down a hillside at the very beginning. I understand the reasoning behind not wanting people to exert themselves unnecessarily if the chimps can't be seen but it kind of defeats the purpose of calling it a tracking experience if you just hang around waiting. Surely a small group at least attempting to follow chimps feeding out of sight is a more anticipatory and thus exciting experience, even if the chimps remained hidden, than waiting for a walkie talkie go ahead. But what do I know? Maybe the terrain was too difficult and they took one look at Stella and me and said - there is no way these old geezers will get down that slope!

Great Blue Turaco

On the plus side, going down the slope was also where there was a very large troop (the guide said up to 500) of the Rwenzori Colobus Monkey, a race of the more widespread Angola Colobus, which is restricted to the Albertine Rift. (Rwenzori precedes the name of many of the Rift endemics and relates to the Rwenzori Mountains in the Ugandan part of the Rift - Ptolemy's Mountains of the Moon and presumed source of the Nile in AD350). These are beautiful looking monkeys, white on the face and arms, although they are marginally less attractive than the Guereza Colobus that we saw in Tanzania with their bushy long white tails. At the top of the slope looking down we also saw our first pair of Great Blue Turaco perched on top of tall tree. This is an enormous (75cm) and spectacular blue turaco that has a red-tipped yellow bill and a rather floppy black crest. This would be the first of many sightings of this impressive bird.

Crowned Eagle

We wandered up and down the path as villagers from the remote community of Banda 12 kilometres away passed us by carrying heavy bags and sometimes house goods on their heads. This track was the only access to the village which is being encouraged to develop eco-tourism opportunities by an American charity. How they will achieve that so far away I don't know. Then we took a fork into one of the circular tracks that spread out from the campground and settled down into some birding while the guide continued to radio about the progress of the chimp troop. Very soon we saw Crowned Hornbill with their bright red bills and then a huge (74cm) Black-and-white-casqued Hornbill showed up beautifully in a tree looking down into the valley. Casqued hornbills like this one (and the Silvery-cheeked Hornbill that we saw in Tanzania) are more calculated to produce the back shiver of excitement familiar to hornbill watchers in Asia. Some of the smaller African hornbills, by comparison, are somewhat of a let down to this fine family name.

Narina Trogan

Our chimp guide, who admitted to little birding knowledge, suddenly called us to come quickly. There on a branch to the left of the track sat a male Bar-tailed Trogon with its brilliant red breast, blue upper chest band, black head, green back and long barred tail. There are only three species of trogon found in Africa, the Bare-cheeked in West and Central Africa, plus the Bar-tailed and Narina which are widespread throughout Africa with the Bar-tailed usually at higher altitudes. The Narina is more common and we have seen it on a couple of occasions. Trogons, like hornbills, are species of fantasy. Turacos, which were new to us until Africa, have now joined this select group. At this point another member of the turaco family flew into a nearby tree. It was a Black-billed Turaco, one of five green turacos found in Africa. All turacos except the Great Blue have red/crimson on the wing which shows extensively in flight. The Black-billed also has a white line on the back of the head and white lines above and below the eye. This is a very shy turaco but I caught a glimpse of its facial white before it disappeared into the canopy. The final morning highlight was the striking White-headed Wood-hoopoe.

Collared Apalis

We had bumped into Narcisse, Nyungwe's best bird guide, with four American birders on the track and arranged to meet back at the campground after lunch to do a trip together in the afternoon. As mentioned in the previous post, it turned out that one of the Americans was top birder David Shackelford who works for Rockjumper the big South African birding company. He was on a personal tour of East Africa with his wife and two friends and he invited us to join them birding. This turned out to be a huge bonus as his knowledge was massive. We went on the Karamba Trail a more open area for birding as it used to be a gold mining site. Here the highlights were Blue-headed Sunbird, Black-collared Apalis, Purple-breasted Sunbird, Archer's Robin-Chat, Red-faced Woodland Warbler and Strange Weaver all of which are Albertine Rift Endemics (AREs). The Strange Weaver is a Rift skulker, unusual for a weaver, but it sat up perfectly for us and gave great views of its black head and upper chestnut breast with yellow below. The long-tailed, iridescent, purple-breasted and blue-headed sunbirds also showed up nicely in the afternoon sunshine. Sunbirds really are a treat in Africa. On the winding stretch back up to the hotel two small, white-spotted nightjars froze in the car highlights. Narcisse identified them as the endemic Rwenzori Nightjar.

Strange Weaver

The following morning we set out to climb Bigugu Trail in search of the elusive and rare endemic, the Black-collared Mountain Babbler. Along the way we heard the call of one of the signature birds of Nyungwe - the Rwenzori Turaco. Patience rewarded all of us with superb views of this truly magnificent looking bird. This medium-sized painted turaco could superficially be accused of overdoing it but its different colours meld superbly together and demand more and more time, seldom given, to examine in greater detail. Stevenson and Fanshawe's Birds of East Africa describes it well. It has "a glossy green-blue crest, orange-yellow lores and eye-ring, blue-black chin and throat, and maroon nape ------- with a rosy-orange blush on the centre of the breast" + the typical, exposed red of the wing in flight.

Rwenzori Turaco

We were also fortunate in getting half-decent views of a very shy bird, the Barred Long-tailed Cuckoo. This higher altitude path had fewer birds than Karamba but still managed great views of the White-starred Robin and endemic Rwenzori Batis. Both these charming species from completely different families have little white dots in front of their eyes that face you like miniature headlights. This is a superb walk even without the birds.

Sharpe's Starling

We also came across two snakes on the path, one very small and greenie/blue and the other larger (1m) which Narcisse thought was Nyungwe's only venomous snake - a green viper. It was also on this path that we all got excellent views of a Carruther's Mountain Squirrel. We also were able to observe at length a pair of uncommon and nesting (in a tree hole) Sharpe's Starling.

We turned back as this track went to the top of Mt Bigugu at nearly 3000m. It was then we heard the call of the sought after Red-collared Mountain Babbler. It took a long time for everyone to get a look but eventually a pair of the birds were sighted high up in a forest tree clambering around like nuthatches in search of grubs. Even from a fair distance we could make out the bird's white eyes as well as its distinctive black cap and cinnamon collar.

Northern Brown-throated Weaver

The Sunday afternoon trip was to Kamiranzovu Swamp. This means 'elephant swallowing' as in the past elephants reputedly got stuck and perished when attempting to cross the marshy area. The last elephant in the park, however, was not sucked into the ground but blasted by poachers as recently as 1999. The target bird for the trip was another rare endemic - Grauer's Rush Warbler (Bradypterus graueri) in its reedy habitat. On the way down we saw another Grauer - Grauer's Warbler (Graueria vittata). Playback helped in calling the rush warbler out and we all got brief views. We then tried to see a Red-chested Flufftail, a secretive kind of rail, but, although the bird was only about a foot away or so, it would not show itself. This is a circular walk and we proceeded back along the valley and up the hill by a different direction. This section was turaco heaven with Great Blue and Black-billed crossing back and forth in front of us. The Great Blue once again gave us splendid views. We saw movement over to the right and, finally, got fantastic views of another key bird of the Nyungwe area - the Regal Sunbird. Even by sunbird standards this one is a little bit special with its bright yellow breast on either side of a brilliant red bar running vertically down the centre. Climbing back up to the road we almost stood on a species of legless lizard. We attempted to locate the rare Albertine Owlet at dusk but without success. We did, however, get great views of the endemic Handsome Francolin as it was settling down at its evening roost.

Verreaux's (Giant) Eagle-Owl

Our final morning was a walk near Gisakura with forest on one side and tea plantation on the other. Highlights here were Lesser Honeyguide, African Green Pigeon, White-chinned Prinia and, especially, the Brown-throated Wattle-eye with its brilliant red wattle right above the eye. Back at the campground to pick up Jared and Michelle we spotted our final endemic of the trip - Stripe-breasted Tit. We missed three expected endemics - Yellow-eyed Black Flycatcher, Red-throated Alethe (which were surprisingly absent) and Dusky Crimsonwing (which we heard only). Nyungwe certainly needs more than a two and a half day stay to unlock most of its key secrets. It is a tough place to see wildlife, as all rainforests are, but now that I have a feel for it, I would love to go back.

(All photos except L'Hoest's Monkey and Narina Trogon were taken by Steve Zee)