Kibilizi - The last official work

This is my last official work for the trip. I'm to visit Dr. UYISABYE Innocent @ Kibilizi Hospital which I've been told is about ten minutes outside of Butare. It's Wednesday and I've been looking forward to a repeat buffet @ the Serena hotel one last time before leaving. So when I get my ticket I get a 7:00 am departure which means leaving Kimihurura @ 6:30. It's not an issue of getting up early though as I'm back into that cycle of tired early in the evening so that I'm going to bed early and then waking up @ 3:00.

I haven't given myself much margin today and the bus pulls out just a few minutes after I arrive. We've only 5 passengers but I'm relatively sure we'll stop at the lower station on the way out of town. We load up but don't fill the jump seats. I'm getting low on Rwanda money and I don't know where I'll find a Forex in Butare. So when I see one right by the bus station I take a chance and run inside. There is another customer in the booth next to mine and I'm a bit surprised by his greeting. In perfect English with little accent "Good Morning Muzungu." Since the man was obviously well spoken I asked him a question which surprised him "Then is it okay for me to respond with Good morning African or Good morning Rwandan?" He was quick to try to tell me that the term isn't derogatory but I think it made him think. No time to discuss the semantics any further so I dash back to the bus and reclaim my seat before I get left.

On the ride I find myself staring at the country side and think to myself "you're here for the people not the scenery" and I look back through the bus at my fellow passengers. The Rwandese are a beautiful people and I feel quite comfortable in their midst. I no longer feel foreign even though I'm reminded daily when I'm called a Muzungu. A young man comes up and puts the jump seat down beside me. He wants to visit in English for practice. During the conversation I learn that he is going to visit his home but not his family. They were killed fourteen years ago and he grew up with people he's going to visit in Giterama (about halfway between Kigali and Butare). Now he lives in Kigali and works in the textile industry. He wants to know if I'd like to have him as a son. I don't know what to say and act as though I can't understand what he's saying until he decides to change the subject. I guess it's a self defense thing.

Once I get to Butare I ask about a moto to Kibilizi and when the first driver quotes 3,000 FRw I start to wonder about the ten minute business. So I go inside to ask the Atraco man what a reasonable rate should be. He misunderstands and quotes "20,000 to Kibilizi". He thinks I want to hire a taxi but even a taxi shouldn't run $40 U.S. for a ten minute ride. Once he understands I want a moto he says 2,000 is about right. Back outside the moto driver quotes 2,000 so I'm on and we're going. South through town, out of town then left on a gravel road that turns to a dirt road and through the country side. I later see a sign and the village of Kibilizi is 11 Km from Butare (thus the 10 minute thing) but it takes about 25 minutes to get there from Atraco.

Kibilizi meets all of the things that my mind sees when I use the term village. We pass through to the far side and here is a lovely looking facility. Pay the man, walk into the courtyard and call the good doctor. "Hallo, Hallo, yes Doctor Innocent, yesss this is Leif Penrose the echography instructor, , , yesss where am I?? I am in the courtyard of your hospital, , , yes and you are where??? I see , , , , Kigali!! Eh? Eh? Okay they are expecting me and go find the radiographer, , yes, , ,yes thank you." As I walk to the hospital buildings and a man who appears to be a physician another young man in a lab coat comes to me. Doctor Innocent has called the Radiographer Emma and the physician is Dr. Guillain Luesso (I don't know which is his first name). They take me to the ultrasound room and we flick on the light which decides not to cooperate. On, off, on, off, off, on a bit, off, flash on, off, on, off. It's a good thing I'm not prone to seizures...

I let the doctor know I'll need some time to get to know the ultrasound unit maybe twenty minutes, , and He leaves to see patients. A trip to the loo and then to meet the hospital administrator. Emma warns me that the staff speak primarily French and to please speak slowly. Back in the echography room the light has decided to behave. The machine is a Pie unit with a 3.5 MHz curvilinear and has a 5 MHz Transvaginal transducer. I sit down to become acquainted when another doc pops his head in for introduction. I let him know I'll need some time to figure out the system but in twenty minutes or so I'll be ready to do an inservice. Back to the buttons at least it's in English when doctor #3 pops his head in for introduction. I let him know I'll need some time to figure out the system but in twenty minutes I'll be ready. Okay how to do the left/right switch, okay where's the Obstetrical package when doctor #4 pops his head in for introduction. I let him know I'll need some time to figure out the system but in twenty minutes I'll be ready. Back to the Obstetrical package when Dr. Guillain pops back in. It's been twenty minutes but with each new doctor I've had to introduce myself and explain that I'll need a few minutes so that I've really only spent about 5 minutes total so far in between introductions. Emma shuts the door and runs interference for me. There are 7 doctors at this hospital which is around 2 years old. I think they are all here except the doctor who invited me. The unit is pretty straight forward and I'm soon ready. The room is very, very small and it's difficult to get more than three people around the unit but there are 4 doctors and myself plus Emma trying to see. We crowd in African style.

The doctors are anxious to learn but it's quickly apparent that they don't have a base knowledge of sonography. I switch gears and terminology to my beginners talk. I decide that I'll make sure Emma knows the buttons before I leave and perhaps he can help when they use the machine. I'm told the printer doesn't work but it's a simple fix of showing them the right side up of the paper. I asked repeatedly for the manual and get a consistent answer of "they took it back with them after they delivered the machine" Even with repeated questioning, I'm not able to figure out who they are, why they wouldn't leave a user manual or where they would have taken it. The physicians are happy to learn about the obstetrical package and I show them how to print a report. We scan a few volunteers but there are no patients who have pathology they want to examine. Repeatedly, , I'm told they do only obstetrical and no GYN or abdominal work. The time flies and I realize we're past 1:00 pm. I've made Emma miss lunch (though the doctors have periodically slipped out) and the interest has wained visibly as it's just Emma, Dr. Guillain and I left (no more volunteers and no patients). It's thank yous and goodbyes and Emma will walk me to where I can catch a moto.

Out the front gate I find a sight I've been hoping to catch during my stay. I've told Terry I'd be willing to pay to get a pictures of a boy with his stick and circle playing. There are a lots of variations but I've seen the sight many times. The circle is sometimes an old, small bicycle tire, sometimes a rim of plastic, sometimes a wooden circle. The stick is sometimes just a stick, sometimes the stick is attached to the circle with a string so that the child pulls up on the back and let's it roll on the front half of the cycle. Sometimes the stick has a stiff wire on the end that can be used to "hook" the circle. I've tried to catch the image riding past on a bus and have seen in it in crowded situations when I didn't feel comfortable but today I have just one boy and his smaller playmate, on an empty street, and I'm with a man who can tell the boy I'd like to take his picture while he plays and in return I'll give him a coin. Well the boy is certainly delighted. I get my pictures, the boy gets the coin and there is no mob to mob me afterwards. Off to find a moto.

The station where we wait has 4 others who are also waiting. There are a couple of Rwandan police officers who are checking the driving permits of the cars that cross this dusty country intersection. A UN vehicle goes by and is flagged down. After Emma explains I need a ride into Butare they refuse and drive off. The Africans are incredulous that they won't give the Muzungu a ride. Thirty minutes of waiting and not a single moto in sight and matatas which are heading in the opposite directions and I ask if it's okay to walk. No I can not walk, , I ask if they don't walk me to walk or I'm not allowed? They will call me a taxi, , , No a taxi will be expensive, , , mes but may I walk, , , yes but you don't want to because it's a far distance, , , , yes but may I walk (It's a beautiful day, the road has not turn offs or branches and I'd rather walk and flag a passing matata than stand here just waiting. The Africans are again incredulous as I thank Emma, shake his hand and start down the dirt road to Butare. As I leave Emma is explaining to the police officers and he heads back to the hospital.

The road is nice and at least half of it is down hill. The weather is in the low 70's and there are sky has a few clouds. The sign says 11Km but I'm pretty sure I'll not have to walk it all. I'm never alone as there is a constant presence of some adult walking somewhere or some child who wants to see the Muzungu. I don't even break a sweat until about the 4th Kilometer when the road starts uphill and the tress aren't shading the road. About an hour into the walk a small pickup stops and gives me a ride the last ways into town. A lovely man who has also given a ride to a man (riding in the back) and a woman who I saw earlier waiting for a moto (riding in the front). I'd like to get to Butare in time to catch a bus in order to get back to eat at the Serena tonight. I'm back @ Atraco by 3:15 and get a ticket for the 3:45 bus.

Off to the grocery store to get a drink and sambosa then back to wait for departure. I'm surprised when the man tells me it's time to board as the only vehicle is a Hiace van & I thought the expresses all used a full size bus. I soon realize that the expresses do all use a full size bus and I've gotten onto the local to Kigali. It's all good in that we'll be back before Serena starts the buffet @ 7:00 and I get to enjoy the local people one more time up close and personal instead of whizzing past the bus stops @ 60 Km per hour. Thirty five stops and 3 hours later we pull into town. The only other person who was originally in the van in Butare is the van driver. At times we've only had 5 people and other times we've been max filled. It's all good because tonight we're eating at the Serena.

I called Terry who is having soft drinks with the anesthesia residents in town. I meet them and we visit for about 45 minutes until it's time to excuse ourselves and walk to Serena. Walking down the street we wonder where the East African Summit on Economic Development which begins tomorrow is meeting. Six blocks from dinner we find out. . . . . . When an officer with a machine gun wants to know our destination. . . . We politely tell him we are going to the Serena, , , , He wants to see our badges and is not satisfied with my drivers license.... The Serena is closed to the public, , , the conference has already had dignitaries arriving (we see a motorcade go by in the distance) and you may not proceed further down this street unless you have proper papers, badge and documentation. There is no arguing with a military officer who's packing heat.

At this point none of the regular places we know have any appeal. We decide to try a third Indian restaurant that Terry has spied. Ten minutes later we're in and have ordered. Serena will just have to be a fond memory.