Bungee Jumping Mamas and other things...

So, this week the blog is a hotchpotch of experiences and brief encounters.

I was in the town with a bag of shopping and my work bag and so decided to hop onto a Moto to go home, rather than walk. I negotiated with the young driver and we were just setting off when the guy on the moto next to me said something in Kinyarwanda (couldn’t catch the meaning) But I am CERTAIN that my driver replied by saying ‘Bunjee jumping Mama’!!! WHaat?? Am I hearing things? Course it could’ve been something else.

Sitting at the Bus Park , waiting for my bus to Kibuye, with two Rwandan ladies and their children when along comes a guy selling shoes. This is a common sight in Gitarama. The shoes are second hand given by donors in Europe and America. The guys carry about 20 single shoes in their two hands and the other members of the pairs are in a rucksack on the guys  back. So, this lady tries on several shoes and none of them fit. She’s really disappointed. She really tried to squash her feet into a shoe which was covered with beads, but no joy – none of them were suitable. I was watching, and she was watching me watching. When the guy turned away I stopped him and asked to try on the lovely bead covered shoe – no joy – too small for me too. The Rwandan lady and I looked at each other with great sympathy and understanding – it was one of those ‘girlie moments’! and reminded me of Cinderella – I wonder if the shoe guy found his princess?

Another bus story. I was sitting on the bus on my way back to Gitarama from Kigali, ticket in hand waiting for the driver to check our tickets so that we could set off. Then a delightful little girl and her mummy and baby got on the bus. She began to chatter away to me in Kinyarwanda – it didn’t seem to matter that I couldn’t understand , she was going to tell me all her news anyway! By the time the ticket man came, somehow my ticket had disappeared out of my hand!! I looked everywhere. The man next to me was very concerned and helpful – indicating my pockets, my bag, under my seat – nothing – not there. I was concerned because before now, I have seen people being told to get off the bus because they didn’t have a ticket. But the driver knows me (I try to blend in and be inconspicuous, but it’s difficult!) and the helpful man told him that he had seen me with the ticket in my hand. The little girl said nothing. Happily I was not thrown off the bus. Where was the ticket? The mischievous little imp had it in her hand all the time. (nooo, not me, the little girl – Sophia).

Just a lovely random photo

The best sign I’ve seen from the bus window this week has to be an advertisement outside a college, indicating the date, time etc for the ‘Swearing Ceremony’ YES!! I want to go to that.

Oh well, just another week in Rwanda!

Love to everyone. Xxx

Gitarama Road Works

PS Don’t forget to post Year Planners or calendars to:

Tricia Atherton

PO Box 207

Gitarama

Rwanda