First 24 hours in Rwanda

     Well, getting into Rwanda was a jarring enough experience, but it didn't improve in the first few hours.  I was so tired when I arrived at the "house" that I barely noticed, but by morning some of its deficiencies became . . . . well . . . .  apparent.  No toilet paper, for instance.  Not to mention no toilet seat!  No hot water.  No towels.  No drinking water.  And this IS serious:  no COFFEE!!
     My new housemates were quite helpful--Ian and Allison, a couple of cardiac nurses living and working in London.  Ian had volunteered at the school several times in the past, but this was Allison's first trip and she was more uncomfortable than me (and I was QUITE uncomfortable).  After blearily getting up too early the next morning, Ian advised Allison and me to get our hiking boots on and trek to the nearest convenience store for supplies.  Since the school was located in a pretty urban area, I was surprised about the hiking boots.  Turned out he was right, though.  The bridge was being replaced on the road we needed to take to get to the store [Maybe the construction work explained the seemingly steady passing of incredibly noisy trucks since oh-dark-thirty], and it was quite a scramble through piles of wet slippery clay to get there.  Not exactly encouraging, but I did get water, instant coffee, and yes, TOILET PAPER.
     Feeling quite accomplished, we went back to the house, and over coffee, Ian and Allison informed me they were leaving for a few days to go sightseeing in Rwanda.  I nearly panicked, but didn't really have time to panic because they were suddenly GONE!  I sat at "my" kitchen table sipping my miserable black coffee and considered my situation.
     "I can't stay here," I thought.  The place had all the deficiencies I've told you about and more, and plus, what it DID have was a funky smell, dubious cleanliness, no WiFi, and no means to charge my phone, which was, of course, demanding to be re-charged.  I was miserable and began to think about escape routes.  I thought maybe I could rent myself a room in a little guesthouse nearby and simply come to the school during the day time.
     About the time I was sorting this idea out, a knock came at the door.  When I answered it, there were three kids standing there, ranging in ages from, say, 9, to maybe 16.  The oldest said "You have visitors," but I had to make him repeat it three times before I understood what he was saying.  Then I invited the three in, and they settled in around the kitchen table. 

Prince modelling my glasses

They chatted away, and soon I began to understand them better, and they began going through my stuff--looking at the photos on my phone and examing my watercolors and pencils.  Soon we were all drawing, painting, and visiting together, and it wasn't long before I realized I wasn't going anywhere.  These kids were well worth any inconvenience I was experiencing.
     It turned out that the two older boys were from the school and had heard that I had arrived and decided to come  greet me. The third was Delia, the daughter of the school's cook, who lived in the apartment next door to mine.  You will hear MUCH more about Delia later, but I'd like to introduce you to the leader of this little greeting committee, Prince.  You'll also be hearing more about him later.
     Well, I was late for my scheduled morning meeting with Charles and the school staff, but I sure felt better.  It was good to meet the staff, and it was good to encounter all the kids and hear their hello's being called out.  I sat in on the morning staff meeting.  I'd say there were about a dozen staff people there, including the night watchman, but only three could speak English well and some not at all.  I left feeling very impressed with the group's professionalism and egalitarianism and with a better idea of what I'd be doing during the next week.  I was admonished, though, that I was NOT to work the kids too hard--it was their post-examination holiday, and they were expected to have some fun!   I thought I could ---just---manage that.