Gisenyi and Health Clinic

Sitting here cross-legged on the corrugated iron roof of the guesthouse, I am wrapped in a blanket looking out across Lake Kivu  to the to the shores of the Congo. Barefoot children laugh happily and play in the field out front with a homemade football. The dusk sky, being sung in by a chorus of cicadas, is a mix of pinks, blues and greys. Above me black fruit bats dot the evening sky as they make their nightly migration back across the lake from the Congo. Singing coming from nearby is interrupted by the occasional cry of a goat and I can taste a smokiness in my mouth as the smoke from wood cooking fires drifts past. Night has fallen quickly and the soft orange glow from the volcano across the lake is now visible and I notice for the first time how bright the stars are out here away from the city. It seems like a good spot to sit and reflect. Today I witnessed both birth and death. The call from the clinic came not too long after we had arrived at the orphanage. A woman had walked herself to the clinic and was ready to birth. We waved down a bus and scrambled on board, climbing over passengers and the back of the drivers seat so we could squeeze into the only spare seat in the front. A short way down the road we got off the bus and jumped on the back of pushbikes. The rural road was muddy and potholed. We had to get off the bikes at one stage and run up the hill before climbing back on the bikes. Upon arriving at the clinic we found the woman lying on her back in the birthing room, feet in stirrups, a bucket on the floor below. There was little more in the room apart from the bed which was covered in plastic sheet and a mop propped up against the wall. Paint was chipping off the concrete walls and two aprons hung from a hook. I put on gloves and grabbed one of the disposable aprons - noting that it looked well used, torn in places and stained. The lady was fully dilated and the baby crowning. The sole nurse of the clinic and another volunteer - whose 'medical' background was 2 years in veterinary college - were also in the room with Cait and I. The nurse was concerned that the labour was not progressing so made the decision to insert a catheter to empty the woman's bladder. This speed things up. After a few pushes and a bit of assistance pulling the head out the baby was born and placed on a stainless steel bench. While the nurse and Patrick delivered the placenta, Cait and I checked over and wiped the baby. Under Patrick's guidance I tied the cord with two pieces of wool and cut it before weighing and measuring the baby - 3kg exactly and 45cm long. After swaddling the baby I took him over to meet his Mum. She glanced at him briefly but appeared almost uninterested -  we later found out that contact between mother and baby after birth is not a common occurrence over here. So for the first 15 minutes of this baby's life I held him, watching him open his eyes for the first time and welcoming him to the world. After being checked for hemorrhaging the new mother matter-of-factly put her skirt back on - she didn't own any underwear - and walked herself into the connecting room, the 'maternity ward', where she lay down on one of the six beds - none of which had sheets, blankets or pillows. 

We left the Mother to rest and went to see our next patient, a 52 year old man in the final stages of AIDS. Emaciated, with sunken eyes and temples it was evident there was little medically that could be done to help this man but make him comfortable and sit with him in his final hours. All to often patients come to the clinic and end up dying alone in one of the concrete rooms without even a blanket. We sat beside this man, whose name no one seemed to know, holding his hand and fanning him. I hoped that our love and care was being conveyed through these gestures and the look in our eyes - as this was the only common language we shared. Helping him to sit up to take a sip of Fanta I could feel each one of his ribs down his back. His whole body rattled violently with pneumonia each breath he took. As his heart rate decreased and his breathing became increasingly shallow and rapid I prayed that death would come quickly and without pain.  For me the reality of this devastating disease hit home today and I struggle knowing the death I witnessed today was preventable. The clinic nurse called an 'ambulance' to take this man to the hospital to die as it would mean less paperwork for this already under resourced and under staffed clinic. The ambulance arrived 3 hours later. After the ambulance driver finished his cell phone call for 10 minutes, he made the poor man walk to the stretcher (which had wheels) himself.  Although there were no medical miracles today; the kindness and compassion that we were able to share with the patients made up for our lack of experience and resources.

Axx

Ibi Wacu Cultural Village

This weekend we finally ventured out of Kigali to visit a cultural village, go gorilla trekking, and stay in a town called Gisenyi by Lake Kivu.  The whole experience was made a bit more comfortable with the help of our friends at the embassy, whose driver took us up north in the luxurious Chevy suburban.  The poverty and desperation becomes much more clear when leaving the city, and the standard of living is extremely different.  It is amazing to see kids of five or six carrying huge canisters of water, a large bag of potatoes or corn on their head, or a machete used to cut grass in their hands.  Some are even working in the fields plowing, digging, and working on the crops.  The countryside is absolutely beautiful, and we understand now why they call Rwanda "The Land of a Thousand Hills".  The vegetation is lush and green, and the hills and mountains roll off into the distance until they fade away into the clouds.  When we arrived in Musanze, we checked in to the Kinigi Guesthouse, which had beautiful gardens, stone sidewalks, and (most importantly) a restaurant with hot food and cold beer.  Luckily the receptionist at the guesthouse knew someone who worked in the cultural village, who was able to set up a visit the afternoon we arrived.  Our guide was super friendly and even told us that we were Rwandan once we stepped into the village.  Ibi Wacu is comprised of around 2,000 people, of whom most are ex gorilla poachers.  Because of this cultural village project and other efforts, 95% of poaching has been reduced because the men are able to make money from tourism as opposed to poaching.  

Before entering the king's house, our guide told us that we must appoint a king, since the current king is living in Texas (not allowed back in Rwanda unless he's willing to denounce his king status).  We had to appoint the only male, our friend Adrian, who was then allowed to enter the palace and put on his royal attire.  He then welcomed us both into his house, and our guide made us aware of the privileges of kingdom. The most interesting to us was that the king technically owned all Rwandan women.  If he saw a beautiful woman walking on the road, he could take her with him for a few days (spent on his 'king size bed'), then would send her home with a few cows and some land.  Because of this, women's husbands would willingly allow them to leave with the king (and of course the threat of death if they protested usually kept them from trying to stop the king as well).

After donning traditional dresses, getting a tour of the king's bedroom, and learning the customs, we were greeted by the sound of drums and singing outside the king's house.  The performers were dressed in warrior costumes and danced proudly to the beat of the drums.  We then moved on to grind sorghum (a starch used to make porridge) with two large stones as women still do in smaller villages.  A medicine man showed us a few different mixtures he used for ailments such as backaches, difficulty conceiving, and trouble 'getting it up'.  We're pretty sure one of the remedies smelled like marijuana, but we didn't like to question traditional medicines.  Drummers then performed for us, and invited us to join in on the action.  The warriors each did their own unique dance, and by the end, had us all dancing along and teaching us some moves (not that we could actually follow, but we tried).   Our experience ended with many thanks from the villagers and guide, and an escort from about 10 local kids who held our hands as we walked down the road to catch moto's.  Another beautiful experience in Rwanda...

xo Cait

Happy Valentine's Day!

Last week we did the program evaluation for Gahanga Primary School, with one of our fellow volunteers Natalie.  The cumulative walk to work and bus ride took about 30 minutes, and surprisingly within that time we were transported into rural Rwanda.  It happened to be a Wednesday as well, which is market day, where all the locals head to the market to buy their food for the week, clothing, and any other odds and ends.  It was wonderful to see the hustle and bustle of a rural town, and the school was even more lovely.  The standards of Gahanga Primary were a pleasant surprise, with all of the kids sitting at desks, pen and paper in hand, smiling and ready to learn.  Unfortunately many of the teachers were outside texting and socializing with each other, while our friend Natalie was facing the 53 children in the classroom with a smile and an amazing positive attitude.  She definitely has a gift for teaching, that was magnified by her ability to teach the kids plural and singular English, amid the complete language barrier.  Another side note- instead of raising their hands quietly, the kids snap their fingers and throw their arms around, eagerly yelling "teacha, teacha" when asked a question.  By western standards, the school was basic at best, but we were impressed by the number of teachers, classroom standards, and excitement of the kids to learn and answer questions.

Admittedly, Amy and I had a very lazy weekend. Friday night we went to a club called Cadillac where there are floor to ceiling mirrors on part of the dance floor where the best (or people who think they're the best) dancers watch themselves get down.  Other eventful happenings that night; we carried a fork out in our bag (to ward off unwanted male attention on the dance floor) and were caught by the security woman at the entrance, Amy got charged for toilet paper in the bathroom when no one else did, we danced to "Who Let the Dogs Out" techno version, and by the end of the night my feet were eggplant purple from dancing on the purple carpeting.  Saturday was spent napping on and off all day (it was pouring rain and thunderstorms- perfect napping weather!), followed by a movie Saturday night.  After watching the food channel one night (Bobby Flay's throwdown; french toast) we had a lingering craving for french toast.  We found some sweet raisin bread at the shop, eggs, milk, and our friends at the U.S. Embassy had cinnamon.  To make it extra gourmet, we bought creme fraiche and strawberry jam to do a layered effect with the french toast.  Wow...it was more than satisfying, although we did feel a little sick after 4 slices each, but it was well worth it to splurge.  The only debacle we got into was when Amy shook the creme fraiche to mix it, and it exploded 360 degrees all over our friend Adriane, the walls, and the floor.  Sunday we tried to have a day by the pool, but were rained out in a downpour that lasted all afternoon, so we watched the movie Due Date which replaced the tan we would have been getting with lots of laughs.  In the evening, we went to Flamingo, a Chinese restaurant, where our waiter told us he drank 12 beers or 3 liters of wine to get a buzz and I paid 400 Rwandan Francs for a takeaway container.  Thankfully the food was delicious; beef and broccoli, veggie spring rolls, duck in pineapple, and vegetable noodles mmm.

On Valentine's Day we met (for a second time) with our friend Emma from an organization called Pro Femmes, an umbrella organization for all NGO's working with women's empowerment, and were able to get the contact details for a long list of women's organizations.  We'd love to connect the women at FVA with some training/education services, counselling (if desired) to cope with the violence at home, and micro-finance organizations to get small loans for their crafts and co-operative.  When we happened to get back to town to look for a moto home, we were bombarded by the rush hour traffic of pedestrians, buses, cars, and motos; all full and all wanting to leave town.  After finding two moto's (we're 99% sure they were unregistered, random people), we were both weaving in an out of traffic, and driving down the center line with cars whizzing by on both sides.  Amy's driver even took out a few car mirrors and knicked a man crossing the street.  Even though our Valentine's Day lacked flowers, sappy romance cards, and poems (although we did get promised some roses earlier in the day), we shared some Mint Crisp Cadbury chocolate in the spirit of the occasion.

We have also met with the women from the GBV Program again regarding health insurance, to make sure that their whole family is insured for the next year.  Of course, like everything over here, things are moving slowly because of the processes involved in paying for the insurance.  First the money must be deposited into the bank account of the specific health clinic which the woman goes to.  This can take a while on it's own, considering there is sometimes a line of over 50 people outside the bank. After this you must take the receipt from the bank to the health center, along with a passport photo (which costs about as much as the insurance itself to print), and the information about the family members.  Finally it takes one month to process and verify all the information.  It is a long process, but we are will to continue until all the women and their families are insured for the next year.  Thanks again to all the donors for allowing me to do this!  
xo Cait

Superbowl and Motivation...



Tara's team won!

 

Sunrise after the Superbowl



Go Steelers! Unfortunately the Superbowl did not end up the way my dad would have liked it, but nonetheless we stayed up ALL night at the embassy watching the game as avid supporters. We even tried to find some superbowl snacks before heading there....unfortunately couldn't find any dip or sour cream, but did manage to find some potato chips and cheese puffs for our munchie needs. After biting into the first cheese puff, we realized how different the recipe must be from the one at home since they tasted like someone had already had them in their mouth and put them back into the bag; very stale. The chips turned out to be pretty tasty, and the embassy even had some salsa we could dip into! The snacks were no comparison to my dad's usual spread of chicken wings in a variety of homemade sauces, multiple dips, and sandwiches, but we enjoyed every minute of it anyway. Luckily the embassy had a fully stocked bar, so a little night cap (or two) kept us going through the night. The part we missed the most were the commercials, since the game was only airing on ESPN. As part of her first Superbowl experience, Amy missed out on all the over-the-top commercials, but we explained the rules of American football and some of the guys explained background about the two teams (I'm clearly not the biggest football buff).

So for a work update--we are feeling MUCH more positive about our volunteer work in Rwanda after the past few days of meetings and time spent with the women in the Gender Based Violence Program. We met with two American girls who are starting a business over here, working with different women's cooperatives across the country to develop products for the American market. They also helped set up a store in Rwanda where the crafts from the cooperatives are sold. They generously came to our organization to meet the women, discuss their skills, and learn more about what they make and how they sell it. The American women discussed things like how to determine the price of a good, profit, materials, and time taken to make the craft. The local women were very grateful and hopeful that they may have new markets to sell their goods, and improve their families' lives. After the business meeting, we also discussed with the women who did and didn't have health insurance. Over here it is 1000 Rwandan Francs to receive a public health insurance card, or under $2 US dollars per person per year. So we took count of who wasn't insured, and thanks to all the generous people on Nantucket, I will be using some of their money to make sure all the women in the cooperative and their families have health insurance. Some of the women are HIV positive and need medication and others have ongoing medical problems that have been put off for years because of the cost. We also recorded how many kids each of the women had, and how many attended school. We will also look further into sponsorship for the kids that aren't able to pay their school fees, and therefore not able to attend school; about $50 US dollars per year. In addition to learning more about these women, we have met with other inspirational organizations that are doing all different types of work with women nationwide. One of them, called Pro Femmes, acts as an umbrella organization to all NGO's that work in women's empowerment. We met with a woman working for them, Emma, who explained in detail the variety of projects they are involved in. From visiting rural communities and talking to women about money management and saving, to delivering family planning education to other rural communities, to providing assistance to HIV positive women and families who aren't able to afford medication, they are involved in influential work all over the country. They also liase with local and national government on projects and work with the Ministry of Gender and Family to identify different needs nation-wide. We also met with an organization called Women for Women International, who have a year-long program for the poorest women in specific regions (identified by local villages). The program teaches the women skills such as hairdressing, tailoring, and craft-making, along with allowing them to attend literacy and business classes. Each specific Rwandan woman is sponsored by an American woman for a certain amount each month, and the two exchange letters and photos through the mail. Women for Women also helps each local community of women in the program to form cooperatives, which they then assist to find markets (one of them being Kate Spade!).

After the frustration at the beginning of our project, and the difficulty in adjusting to the slower pace of life (and work!), we are feeling much more hopeful and motivated about our time here and the impact we can make before we leave!

xo Cait

P.S. Two weeks tomorrow with no water at the house (it came back on for one celebratory day last week, then slowly trickled away again)...back to sponge baths...

Let's get down to business

So we came to Africa with a purpose, aside from the opportunity to live and travel in Africa, the primary reason we are here is to volunteer. Out of the six months we are away, four of them we will spend volunteering - two months in Rwanda and two months in Uganda. We have now officially been in our role at FVA for nearly three weeks. Like any new job there is always a settling in period and these first few weeks have bought many challenges.  We came over here knowing and expecting things to be completely different from back home and they but nothing could have prepared us for the disorganization, lack of structure, planning and processes within the organization and its programmes. The programme we signed up to work on was the Gender Based Violence Programme (GBV). Our role would be to assist in the delivery of the programmes which included providing counseling to women and their children, facilitating group discussions around GBV, income generating activities, vocational skill training and literacy improvement. What looked and sounded good on paper turned out to be completely different from what is actually being delivered. At best you could say that some of these activities were being attempted to be provided. For the first week we went with the flow however the question we soon found ourselves asking was "what is going to be the most effective use of our time here". After speaking with some other organizations and meeting with FVA management we made the decision to refocus our time to programme planning, project logic models, project evaluation and capacity building within FVA and their current programmes. Our main focus initially is on planning and resource development for the GBV progamme. There are many health and social service NGOs around Kigali but there is very little networking or awareness among organizations and the community as to what services are available and how to access them, instead everyone works in silos with the limited resources they have. One of the tasks we have been working on is to identify and connect FVA with other organizations in the area that FVA can refer women too. We are in the process of meeting with organizations that provide counseling, micro-financing for small business ventures, literacy and vocational skills training and women’s cooperatives. This in itself has been a slow and frustrating process with meetings being cancelled or postponed at the last minute. We will also be visiting the other FVA programmes to document what is currently in place and assist with evaluation look at ways resources could be better used or improvements made. So although our time here will be spent very differently to what we had planned, we hope that leaving behind some plans for the organization, connecting the women to a variety of services, and setting some goals for the programmes will leave a more lasting impression after we have moved on.

Another year older...

I know that 26 isn't very old in the scheme of things, but for some reason to me it seems a whole lot older than 24 or 25. 24 is still considered early twenties, then 25 is mid twenties, so 26 seems like late twenties to me (and closer to 30!). Anyway, I don't seem too worried about growing up too soon since I still have no plans to settle down anytime soon. Unfortunately my birthday weekend was spent in bed, with a thermometer, juice, water, and my ipod as I was sick with the flu. After taking my temperature and realizing I definitely had a fever, I was a bit worried about malaria. It is supposed to bring on flu-like symptoms and last for a few weeks, so I immediately called my coordinator and someone came in a car to take Amy and I to the hospital. After explaining some of my symptoms to the doctor, in broken english, he told me I'd need to head to the lab to get some bloodwork done. Anyone that knows me, knows that I'm pretty terrified of needles, so I was definitely dreading getting blood drawn, especially over here since we weren't sure what the facilities would look like. Although the floor wasn't too clean, some of the cabinet doors were broken off, and no latex gloves were worn, the technician did open a sterile needle for me, so that was a little reassuring. I, of course, had to look away while he was drawing my blood, but in the middle of it, Amy came over and held my hand, and I thought, crap, things must be really bad! Appparently he had missed my vein a few times, then was digging around to find it...luckily I didn't see how enormous the needle was until he was all done, or I probably would have fainted. So after about 30 minutes of processing the blood, I found out I didn't have malaria! The doctor thought I had a chest infection, so prescribed me some cough syrup, antibiotics, and some ibprofen for the fever. Unfortunately after 7 days on the antibiotics I'm still coughing, but still hoping that it will clear up soon!

Back to the birthday festivities! The Rwandan diet tends to be quite starch heavy, lots of rice, potatoes, green bananas, bread, etc, so I have really been craving a big piece of meat. On my birthday I went out to a cafe with our friend Lucy and got myself a big burger--it was awesome. After some time on the internet reading birthday wishes, we headed to the U.S. Embassy to sit by their pool for a while. We conveniently brought along all our toiletry needs (shampoo, soap, facewash, etc.) to indulge in one of their hot showers---and boy was it amazing--especially after not having water at our house for a week! We also met a couple other Americans whose parents work at the Embassy who were here on holiday for a few weeks. For dinner, we had planned to go to a Thai restaurant that I had been reading about in one of the guidebooks. After circling around the area for a while trying to find the restaurant, we settled on an Ethiopian restaurant instead, a cuisine we had talked about trying while we were here. So after waiting about an hour for our meal, the waitress brought out a giant pancake-looking dish with all sorts of little piles all over it, sauces, vegetables, and something resembling meat. We dug into the pancake (which is supposed to be used like a fork to pick up the sauces, meat, and veggies), and took a few bites of this strange food. It was actually going down pretty well until one of our friends mentioned that the pancake tasted like a mixture between soggy bread and a kitchen sponge. After that comment, none of us really ate much more, which may have been a good thing beacause after inspection, we're pretty sure the meat on my plate was some type of animal vertebrae. The only thing that really saved our dinner was a predator-prey discovery channel viewing of a gecko on the ceiling going after a moth for it's dinner. Dessert was served back at the U.S. Embassy, and although the ice cream was no comparison to Ben and Jerry's, it was a great ending to a very eventful birthday! We plan on celebrating again this weekend with a few drinks and undoubtedly a tastier dinner.

We are beginning to feel a bit confined in Kigali, so are looking into booking some trips away on weekends. One thing we're dying to see is the gorilla's, which is pricey, but we've heard well worth it. Another trip that some friends are trying to plan is over into the DRC (Congo), to climb an active volcano and visit the border town of Goma. We had to visit the Congolese Embassy to apply for a tourist visa, and were told that we needed to have Rwandan residence visas (which neither of us have), an invitation letter from the Congolese government, and, most importantly photocopies of our credit card in order to get into the country. Luckily, the woman at reception kindly organized a meeting for us with the Congolese Ambassador, whom everyone in the waiting room had to stand and greet when he arrived in the building. After moving from 3 different waiting areas, the receptionist told us that she would be translating, and that we would be asked some questions and make sure that we answer them completely truthfully. Luckily the Ambassador, or "Your Excellence" as the receptionist called him, spoke french, so I was able to understand bits and pieces of what he was saying. Other than asking about our jobs back home, wishing me a happy birthday, and briefly asking why we wanted to visit the Congo, it was a pretty painless meeting. We were granted a one month visa for $140 US Dollars, for a trip that would actually only take a day or two. Unfortunately we later discovered that Amy's Rwandan visa is only single entry, so she may get stuck in the DRC if she leaves, or have to pay for another visa to re-enter Rwanda. Our weekend trip to the volcano is postponed for now, but hopefully we will book the gorilla trek soon--something we've both been looking forward to!
　
　

What a week...

Rain showers :)

Walking to work today I found myself contemplating the events from the past week and realized how content and happy I feel in this foreign country amidst the chaos, the dirt and the unfamiliar. Its strange how quickly the armed soldiers on the back of trucks and standing in road side bushes, the barefoot children begging and the men wearing pink jumpsuits (indicating that they are prisoners  and perpetrators of the genocide) have blended in to day to day life and become a normal sight. So much has happened over the past week and I don’t really know where to start. Sitting in the back of a taxi last Wednesday with a malnutritioned teenage girl propped up between us I could feel the lump in my throat and tears welling in my eyes as I listened to Angel’s story.  We spotted Angel’s thin body laying motionless on the grass on the side of the road as we walked back to work following a meeting with an NGO. Hesitantly we pulled back the torn and dirty jumper which was covering her face and crowd of bystanders soon gathered around to watch. After what seemed like a lifetime an 18 year old named Brownie crouched down beside us and interpreted.  Angel was a 15 year old refugee who had come to Rwanda a year ago with her parents and three sisters, her parents had since died and she now lived with her sisters in an extremely poor village in Kigali. Three days ago she had been hit by a car and it had taken her two days of begging to get enough money to cover the local hospital charges. Patients rely on family to bring in food to them as it is not provided by hospital. No one had been to visit Angel and on her four hour walk home her injured and weak body could walk no further so she rested on the roadside where we found her. We pulled out the food, water and panadol we had in our bag. As I helped her lift the bottle of water to her lips Cait went to a nearby shop to buy her some food she could take home with her before we found a taxi to drive her there.  Holding her hand in the back of the taxi it dawned on me that this young girl was the same age as my youngest brother. I couldn’t help but think how different the circumstances and lives of these two teenagers growing up on opposite sides of the world are and how unfair and unjust poverty is.  The following day we went to visit an orphanage that some of the other volunteers we live with work at. It was heartbreaking to see the conditions that these children were living in. This particular orphanage is the home to fifty one children aged between 3 months to 18 years. The children are housed in two dirty brick buildings which are separated by a small split level mud courtyard. Dark musty hallways, with small bedrooms on either side, run from the central room of each ‘house’. There are two bunks with a thin mattress and single blanket are in each bedroom and the children all share a bed. Like most houses in Rwanda the orphanage has no electricity. I can only imagine how cold it would get in winter. The cooking is done out the front over a coal fire and drop toilets in wooden shacks are out the back. Children with shaved heads and in soiled and wet clothing played with rocks and bits of wire that had become their most prized possessions. Ella explained to us that the few toys that are bought into the orphanage are quickly destroyed as the children have never had toys before so have no concept of sharing or even how to play. The only toys I saw were two balls. Within seconds of walking through the gates children surrounded us, eager and desperate for attention and human touch.  I sat on the ground all morning holding, hugging, tickling and stroking the faces of these beautiful children with big dark eyes, my resolve to one day adopt a child strengthening. One of the reasons we decided to visit the orphanage on this day was to help the other volunteers carry back the 50 chickens (yes, live chickens) that they were going to buy for the orphanage for the newly built chicken coup which had been constructed by a recent volunteer. I was curious as to the logistics of how the five of us would each carry ten chickens. I had been watching the locals and the way to do it seemed to be to hold them upside down…would my hands be big enough? I could already picture myself accidently dropping one and then having to run down the dirt road holding my other nine while trying to catch the tenth. So we set off at lunch time, walking a short distance before catching a bus and then a moto. I was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be letting us back on the bus with fifty chickens so I guessed that our return journey would be on the back of a moto with our chickens. I had a slight panic as the moto ride in the morning was a rather bumpy one down the pot hold street and I had needed to hold on with both hands, so how was I going to balance on the motorbike with my daypack and ten chickens?? This was going to be a sight to see! While getting on my moto on the way to the chicken man there was a bit of hustling going on with some other moto drivers which resulted in my driver taking off when I was only half on and I ended up with a nasty and fairly large burn on the inside of my leg leaving a patch of skin raw and exposed and the rest blistered. Cait and I made the made the decision to head home as she wasn’t feeling too well and I needed to get water on my burn …of course there was no clean water where we were.  While I knew it was a serious burn I wasn’t overly worried as the pain subsided completely within thirty minutes and I was happy that I had been able clean it and that it was well dressed. Two nights later, at a house party hosted by the American Marines and at the Embassy, I mentioned my burn to ex-firefighter and medic who was now working for the embassy. He immediately expressed his concern that the burn may be third degree after I described the wound and the fact that I had no pain. It needed to be checked out.  I was wearing tight jeans and after trying to pull the leg of the jeans up for a good 5 minutes I realized that this was not going to work -  the jeans either needed to be cut or taken off. Since they were the only jeans I bought with me I wasn’t keen to have them cut, so I found myself in the bathroom with a cardigan wrapped around my waste, jeans at my feet with a stranger looking at my burn.  It turns out that I have three burns all in one, the raw part of the burn being third degree.  After redressing the burn and with instructions on how to care for it, the medic cheekily asked “so was that the first time you had been in an American Embassy bathroom with a guy and your jeans off?”. A little while later, and after my first ever game of beer pong, the head of security at the embassy made an announcement that there had been a grenade attack five minutes down the road and that three people had been killed and twenty-six injured seriously. While the attack didn’t seem to be targeted at Westerners it was scary to be so close to such unprovoked violence.  To add to the events of the past week is the fact that we have had no water at the house for now seven days. Exactly a week ago today our water supply mysteriously stopped. By day one I was already feeling incredibly dirty. Having spent the previous day at the orphanage and walked forty five minutes in the sun on dusty roads I was looking forward to the cold drizzle of water I have come to know as a shower but there was not even a drop. Wet wipes would have to do. Three days later I was getting desperate.  That evening we had one of the heaviest rain showers I even seen – this water was not going to be wasted so I threw on my bikini, grabbed my toilet bag and headed outside. The rain was so heavy I was able to wash, shampoo AND condition my hair. I have never really appreciated being clean until that moment. When the water will come back on is completely unknown, we do have a chocolate sweep stake running at home with bets as to when we will have water again. So the week has been eventful to say the least but there is something about this place and the people which makes up for all of it. And for those of you who are wondering about the chickens, it turns out that they were baby chickens and could be transported in two boxes.