Kayanza is located 1:30 Bujumbura, 20 km from the Rwandan border. More than just a place but a shift in the mountain, around which were built houses and shops. But it is the intersection of two roads, one of which went to Rwanda and Uganda and one to Tanzania. Kayanza is a crossroads.
High School Teaching, which takes place IFADEM , lies atop a hill, 3 kms from the city. Whereas at the bottom there are saying ... not much up there there a. .. nothing, nothing sound like the scrapings of a throat burp in a sandstorm ...
"But the campaign is beautiful," I said, quite correctly, Pierre-Jean Loiret, Associate Director of Program Innovation by Information Technology and Communication to the AUF ...
Yes ... The countryside is very pretty.
But then, the idea I had formed of the place where I spent the next two months has been far short of reality ... I had some notion of for nothing still traveled a lot, sometimes in places not easily accessible, but then I confess that I found better school.
I got off the car on the median Desert High School swept by the wind and I immediately understood the meaning of the enigmatic smile of Jibril, a few days earlier, when m has designated low-cons, but quickly, like that between two "Bin there, it is ...", the house where I was going to stay.
few students, not yet gone on vacation, looked at me amused. I saw only the red earth around me, and clouds over the buildings, the surrounding hills surrounded by fog and distance, the distance that separated me to this city.
I met Gideon, the head space technique IFADEM, with whom I live. At this point in history, even if I'm already a little less, I expected to share a little "flag" (I said they had used the term "villa" to designate the place) with a person, Gideon. Instead of a flag I found a great house in which lived already six high school teachers singles, plus a visiting friend for 3 or 4 months ..
Arriving home, I was introduced cows, whose pen was attached to the window of what was soon to be my room. Cows are Joseph, which sells milk in the city and has a motorcycle too, but walking because his bike is the taxi, down the hill. Joseph is an English teacher in high school. It has resources, still stands upright and speaks so elegant in French, even if it is above all very anglicizing proud, and I do not understand when he speaks in that language.
One enters the home ... Built in 1989, it houses so the single high school teachers. Who says unmarried women said no, and says no women, said person to the household. It's simple, I believe that the household has never been done in this house in twenty years. For soil, it still passes, we will not quibble. No, I'm talking toilets and the shower (next to the toilet ...). Even in India in the worst places, I think a crack in the roof allowed the monsoon rains lather lost a piece of soap in the bowl ... Here, I have watched the ceiling was intact ...
severe depression I began to understand and gradually the hidden meaning of all the euphemisms that were used to describe me the place when, after a hallway without light, I was appointed my room.
"Well, the lock is a bit capricious ..." The door finally opened and made me discover a room with dirty walls, the smell of cow, in which Richard, the friend of passage for a long time, began gathering business.
"Ah yes, your room was occupied until now, but it will just move!" In fact
moving, Richard crossed the aisle to go Gideon ... I became more and more comfortable ...
the empty room, I found myself in a grim and bare land with only a mattress that Gideon had bought for me. But beware, there are mattresses and mattress! I had been entitled to the best of its kind, a mattress-Doma Doma imported from Tanzania, please! On the backs of men I suppose, since cost me a whopping of 100 000 FBU, the equivalent of 60 euros, the monthly salary of a part of the public early in their careers ... At that price, and given the proven quality of the specimen, I could hardly imagine what people slept in the region ...
"Well .. Well, thank you Gideon And ... uh ... There are sheets, a blanket and a pillow ... or not?"
"Oh, no .. I was just told that you needed a mattress."
"Ah ..."
"We'll go buy it in town then!" My
bedding cost me a total of 100 euros (though I avoided the pillow, when I saw the cloud of dust which was hiding behind the square of cloth stuffed the merchant was hitting me in the street after pulling the bottom of the lowest floor of the shelf) and have made me ... 4 days. I guess
Gideon resell again the mattress, I would not go with the back ...
Leaving the house, despite my best efforts to hide my dismay, I was, I believe, livid, voiceless, and furiously annoyed at the idea of spending two long months before me in my villa Burundi ..
They returned to the cows and Gideon said with an air conciliatory
"Yes, it's not easy eh ... "
" To whom? For teachers? "
" No, for cows, they never leave. "
PJ Loiret was long gone in his 4x4, back to Bujumbura, and I stood there not knowing what to do or say in what I thought was the terminus of the end of the world, lost the top of my butt in a school with broken windows in desert warfare, far, far away from pollution reassuring the city. ... Ah, the charm of the countryside. .. No idea what it's really the other way when one is born Norman ...
I just feel like a remake of the local SAW, but with nice people ... Landing here have me aghast still allowed to meet with Joseph, Anatole Leonard and Oswald with whom I became friends since.
Four days later, after two unsuccessful attempts to shower under a trickle of water to form a room whose walls slid the glistening multitude of all organisms that thrived there in the permanent humidity, I decided to leave home, Gideon and his mattress and find refuge elsewhere (and in touch, politely, two words to my director ...)
In desperation mingled with a sense of shame at the same time. .. Shame that this filth m'insupporte at this point shame to throw up going to the bathroom every morning, ashamed of my disgust and shame of my own. But after two nights, I remembered that I had visited places in India, where houses had been allowed, at 4000 meters in the mountains, among people who had nothing but their roof, but living in a healthy place. Exactly, these people, it was family ... Well cleanliness is not a luxury for rich countries, and if the single here are not fucking doing housework is not my problem! I'm "single" I learned to use a sponge and I was not hanging out with twenty years of grime other! It's hard enough collocation, then takes a minimum anyway ...
But like everything else in life when we try to have an open mind two days later I got used to my nightmare ...
is going to play ping-pong among sisters two days later that I caught the sudden hope of a better future ... African Catechetical Institute at Muyange, that's where the sisters live, 1 km from school, further down the mountain. He was a former language center, built by missionaries so long ago that nobody remembers when, so that all gospel preachers learn Kirundi before going missions around the country. Build the strong and well built, a large wild garden shaded by giant pines on top of which lives a community of hawks, a nightclub downstairs with moult Amstel and ping-pong ... What a paradise!
I m'enquerrai the price of the night with Sister Beatrice, who, beaming, his eyes sparkling with the love of his neighbor and her purse, invited me to open the door to a lovely room in which sat a real bed, with a real mattress cheaper than Doma-Doma, a large table for the study, a bookshelf, a sink and soap! Maïgode! A place owned by women! old book that smells, not musty, a window onto a garden and the garden of the nuns frolicking in making bouquets! All I needed was the air guitar a jolly boy scout in vigil to complete the picture of my rebirth! My life had a purpose again, a direction, a focal point: My new ambition was to live with the nuns!
The next day I went down to Muyange, chitchat with Father Norbert, a senior official with Our Lord for all these bright cores, whose eyes sparkled with a love even more steadfast than that of Sister Beatrice. We chitchat a lot Father Norbert and me, because he really loves his neighbor ... more than my purse could not afford me ... But we finally agree on a month and a half room at half price and omelet in the morning.
"Uh ... (honey honey honey) you take what the morning?"
"I heard that you had bread ..."
"Yes! Ca, bread, there always!"
"From the omelet?"
"Eggs, too, there are a. .. You drink what? Coffee? Okay ... Um ... (bottom of the pot of honey) Anything else?"
"Uh ... I do not know ... maybe Fruits ?
"Ah ... (P'ud honey) as you take fruit ...
"Aha! Noooo! Worry, you know, I have simple tastes ... I will ... the same thing as you!"
In the end, I sometimes fruit. But when there 's the fruit, there's not an omelette ...
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