You can't see feelings

I've finally plucked up the courage to tackle a Rwandan keyboard and to write a blog and after 15 minutes of growing rage at searching for @'s and _'s I've managed to convert it to a US configuration, phew. There has also been a little apprehension in writing this blog as it was always going to be the last one from Africa and this year, the events of which will no doubt resurface and stir up emotions (and it'll be a long one). But fear in all it's guises should be confronted and vanquished whenever possible, so here goes....

Picking up from where the last blog left off - Heather and I bickering, which was all too common given our exhausting and different experiences. Heather with all the emotions of returning to Tanzania and the impending farewell to the mamas she had grown so attached to. And my total mind and body exhaustion in the final surge to finish the structure by 20th Dec.

The Visitors
The first of our much anticipated visitors, Gini and Scott, arrived on Dec 5th at the peak of the short rains. Thick mud and general dampness characterised their first few days before their flight to Zanzibar on the 8th - although the vicious sun came out for Scott's stint on the roof with me, a tough return to Africa for him. They arrived back on the 12th in time for a night at Stiggy's to say farewell to the Stratti's from the wazungu in town. They next day Christian, Mel and Mum arrived on a day totally contrasting to Gini and Scott's arrival. Hot and dry, barely a cloud to be seen. It was so exciting to have them all with us in the place we'd talked so much about and where we'd done and learnt so much. I tried not to feel sad at absence of another member of our team, things were as they were meant to be and I was happy with having the beloved family with us.

The Farewell
A week later the roof was all but done (one minor trimming job that didn't happen due to a grinder blade shortage), the workers and I congratulating each other on completing such a monumental job. They had also suggested that it would be appropriate to slaughter a goat to give thanks that no one was killed during the construction of the roof - lifting 500kg roof pieces into place by hand up to 10 metres above the ground was indeed dangerous and we sent two men to town to select a good looking goat. The morning of the slaughter coincided with my last day on the building site - an emotional day and I was glad that the goat slaughtering took the men's attention away from it. After a big shared lunch of goat and rice, eaten with hands in the glorious dining room facing up to Mt. Meru, it was time for the Kwa heri (farewell) ceremony for Heather and I. I was anxious at the event taking too long as I'd seen the men often getting bored after their sodas and slinking back to work on their farms. I also didn't want the men to see any tears in my eyes - Heather was already red eyed from frequent tears as she watched the mamas sing while they cooked the goat.

The first part of the ceremony was to given a masai shuka (blanket) from the men, which Roger Moore and Onesmo wrapped around me in the correct way, then Mudi presented me with a masai sword with sheath and belt which was also added to my outfit. Finally the mamas, as they had just done with Heather, sang a farewell song and danced around and wrapped another shuka around my shoulders. Then, quite unexpectedly, one of the men got up and started a masai dance - head bobbing, low pitched vocal 'HEEE'. Then another and another of them got up until the air was filled with the sound of the mamas singing and the men facing them, leaping into the air making their noise with the occasional high pitched shriek. As I stood between the mamas and the men I was partly embarrassed at such a fuss being made of me and partly bursting with pride that the men I had worked so hard with were giving me such a special gift. On the outside I was smiles, on the inside I was weeping to be leaving these amazing men that were sort of friends apart from the language barriers, and I was sort of their boss much of the time, but our experience of learning together from Darren and then continuing with what he had left us to build something none of us could even comprehend when we first began had created a unique bond.

Two days later we were driving out of Sinon bound for Mt Meru and I was trying to breath in as much of Sinon as I could in each breath before we left it's welcoming arms.

Mt Meru
This keyboard is almost as difficult as Mt Meru, and Meru was tough. Not so much physically as it was mentally. After the midnight start and hiking for 6 hours, the last hike to the top was faced with false peak after false peak and the guide kept saying '10 minutes, just around the corner'. Total bollocks, it took another 2 hours and was a bit cloudy up top during our 15 minute rest on the peak. It then haled on us during the descent to where we had started that night. It's doing the hike a disservice to gloss over it like this, the views into the crater were breathtaking - the craggy ridges awe inspiring and the enormous ash cone remarkable (hence the remark). But arriving at Kigongoni lodge was heavenly and we had a lovely relaxed Christmas - the exotic location helping to alleviate some of the absence I felt. On boxing day we caught a taxi to the airport, and again I inhaled Tanzania into my mind and soul as deeply as I could before our final departure from this life changing place.

Rwanda
Arriving in a country on boxing day is not ideal, especially when it has no ATMs that accept foreign cards, and the following two days are also public holidays. Despite traipsing around Kigali (exciting for those who ever played WITW is Carmen Sandiego) for a day or two, we got a bus to the Virunga mountains where the Gorillas live. Events unfolded and Heather and I didn't go to see the gorillas, but I climbed a volcano with Christian which was fun.

You can tell I'm tiring, so must you dear reader. Perhaps I'll leave some final thoughts, recaps, highlights, complaints and accusations for another blog when I get back to Australia and whatever I'm going to feel is felt.

Merry x-mas to everyone and I hope the new year is exciting, unexpected and productive for all.

More toilet philosophy

Twenty-nine of the 35 upside-down boats that we call roof trusses have now been built - with six to go the finish line is in sight and enormity of the roof unfolds after each lifting session. Motivation is starting to falter amongst many of the men, morning chapati and chai has become more popular (lucky for Mama Elizabeth) and slightly more drawn out, and the workers are less eager to throw themselves into the many tasks I am dishing out over the day. I don't blame them, I'm also exhausted and have to grit the teeth to begin each new roof piece and drag 5 or 6 poor souls out into the sun to do it with me. We have a couple of days of roof sheeting ahead of us now which I think is easier work for the guys on the roof as they don't seem to feel the heat of the sun as much we thin skinned wazungu.

So after collapsing at the volunteer village this afternoon, having some toast and a generously donated bowl of weetabix from Joel and Robbie and then showering I stopped off at our ever rising compost toilets. There's certainly no tectonic forces at play but the mountain is rising faster than anyone finds comfortable and a brave person will be required to soon level the playing field as best they can. The toilets are composed of two cubicles, each with two seats on varnished timber benches facing each other. Despite it appearing to be a new social experiment in toileting the seats are only supposed to be used in isolation - using one side when the other is full and has been closed off. Acoustics are good though and Heather and I often carry on conversations between the cubicles. This afternoon's conversation concerned the virtues of music and lyrics as opposed to purely instrumental music. I was suggesting that lyrics impose a thought pattern on the listener while pure music allows the mind to creatively take from the music whatever it may. While not totally disagreeing with my spontaneous conclusion Heather suggested that the lyrics allow the listener an element of escape from their life/mind/location.

Aha! I cried. And why would anyone want to escape from their life? For many reasons I suspect but if I draw the circle around Heather and I and all those people we know and are related to I can't find it reasonable to suggest that any of us should need to escape from their life/mind/location for an instant - even when having a really bad day. Regardless of how long or short life is, you've only got one and to desire trading it in for another even for a moment is like drinking a delicious cold beer and spitting it out occasionally because you fancy a soda or milk instead. What a waste! A simplified generalised analogy and comment on life, but I am a general sort of chap and quite simple as well.

Time for food. Yum.