The new chez moi

The end of February saw our first and last big Barbeque at the house. The smell of the best garlic sausages from the German supermarket slash butchery and the easy laughter of our lovely guests filled the sunny Saturday afternoon air...ah, life is sweet with a brochette in one hand and a cool, ehm, tonic in the other. 

As a host you dont want to get wasted too fast and too early. Very wise decision as guests continued to pile in until Midnight. 10 hours of socialising -  that must have been the longest barbeque ever. Luckily we originally overestimated people's appetite as usual which came in handy in the end so we grilled away happily through the night. 

A week later it was bye-bye chez Liz et moi and the Kiyovu neighbourhood and hello Kimihurura and Andrew. Positive and optimistic as I am I saw the bright sight of it and forgot about our perfect old home immediately. My window runs along the whole side of the room and for the first time i know the time of day when I wake up. My old window was totally covered with plants which, you know, was nice and mysterious especially from the outside but hey, daylight flooding the room got its own charme. The living room's door opens to the patio where in beween trees, the gate...and the car... I can spot the other side of the hill.  

Howard, our recently bewidowed and slighly misled cock, his day starts at around 3 in the morning, adds a homely and farmy touch to it. So, yes, I love my new chez moi, at least in the dry season, and when my toe isn't broken. Slightly different from our Kiyovu city centre house accessibilty in Kimihurua is much more of an issue as few roads are paved which means hard work for a little Moto like mine and no taxis outside the house. Why didnt I buy a car again? On the other hand its got a lot more of  a neighbourhoody touch, you pop out to the shops or go for a walk in the area and it also means friends around so crippled me got lifts to work in the morning for a while. All in all, I cant complain and ever since Andrew took pity on me a made him and me a nice sturdy massage table life is all good where the 1000 hills are.

Dakar in Senegal

How I could go on endlessly about traveling in Africa and how long it takes, crossing the continent from east to west in particular. But who am I to complain if I am paid to go to Senegal and even better when I get to see old friends? So I left earlier to visit my friend Wanji who I studied with in Brighton for the weekend. Well, things turned out a little different than expected but nevertheless unlike many conferences where one doesnt see a thing apart from the hotel itself I actually got a bit around. To the island of Goree for example, where sclaves used to be traded and held and which is now a major tourist attraction with tons of artists and traders.

And god, did they hassle people. As friendly and outgoing the Senegalese are, there is no such thing as wandering the streets untroubled. I did adore the taxi drivers though, chewing cola nut, gesticulating wildly in traffic, cheeky as hell when it comes to negotiating prices but always in for a good laugh when they get caught on totally overpricing.



As soon as I arrived the familiar smell of dust and heat entered my nose. A nice breeze from the sea, this special afternoon light and the omnipresent muezzin together made me like this place instantly. Traffic and pollution however, made me long for sleepy Kigali.

On the market I bought some traditional Bazin fabric, from Mali or as I was surprised to learn actually produced in Germany and couldnt resist to even visit a taylor and have something made. That didnt work so well though, as I look a little like St.Lucia with my white boubou and golden embroidery. I had insisted on writing down to make it silver but the taylor was almost offended when we suggested he might forget if he didnt. But I knew it, thanks to years of experience now.

Together with Wanji I explored the culinaric side of Dakar, but as I had some unpleasant memories of the heavy, greasy Senegalese food I stuck to the international, or rather french side of it. I couldnt get enough of the yummy fish and seafood, nice drinks in nice bars.

Tea(m) spirit

In the spirit of team spirit we set out on a weekend of bonding and socialising at our most favorite place in Rwanda, the Kivu Sun Hotel (now Serena) at lake Kivu. And really the whole team including cleaners and drivers came along. As my boss is going to leave Rwanda I guess staying in such a hotel for a Betriebsausflug was a little bit of a farewell present, they all definitly loved it.



I think I have already made and displayed plenty of pictures of this place, here is one with the smoking Nyiragongo in the back.







To give the whole thing a little educative touch we visited a tea factory near Gisenyi that produces for export. It was actually quite interesting, all these little steps and procedures, the right temperature here, the right texture there.

quality check, apparently you notice the difference not only in color but also by the different sound a spoon makes when hitting the rim. Hmm, somehow that didnt sound convincing...







An unforgettable and my favourite memory of that weekend however, was jogging along the lake and over the hills with my boss. I need to add that my Andreas is known for jogging during lunchbreak, no matter what. I myself have never been much of a jogger anyway and somehow the geographical conditions of Rwanda did not make it any more attractive to me. But here I was with my pride and I volontered to go with him for once from the hotel to the Congolese border and back, easy, flat, piece of cake. But alas, change of plan. We were going to eat at a restaurant about 7km away and Andreas had the brilliant plan to simply run there instead. Sure, why not, too late to duck out. And so we started. All was fine before the first hill, actually up until the middle of the first hill. You know how roads wind along lakes and then vanishe a little inland all the way up the hills and down again...And of course it was really hot and the cheering from the Rwandans along the road wasnt entirely carrying us either. Some women with their babies strapped around their bodies and with baskets on their heads run along for a while - no kidding. I wanted to tell them save your energy unless you are also having a big ice cold coke waiting for you on the other side. I started to breath heavily and just when I wondered if I would survive this hill I was saved and we walked the rest of the hill. Down and up again it went until we had a little sprint at the end, passing the Heineken brewery towards the restaurant. My body ached for several days after that, but at least I had my coke.

Backpacker no more

We were headed for Zanzibar to celebrate my flatmate Liz' 30. anniversary for a real adult holiday.







I had already suspected that the good old days were over when I packed my bags and was in no mood to get that big monster backpack out. But it really hit me when I was sitting at Stone Towns fresh seafood market at dusk trying to strike up a conversation with about the only other single on the island.

I asked him what he was doing and when he replied: history, I seriously said: ah, teaching? From the weird look on his face I could tell that I was on the wrong track but just as I assumed everybody else was a student back when I was, now I just suppose everbody is working just like me. So I finished my lobster kebab hurried down the Tusker beer and vanished to join the honeymooners and families for a drink on the shores of the Indian Ocean.

I should have been warned as practically everybody else we heard talking about Zanzibar in Kigali went there with their boy/girlfriends. But as I settled for my sundowner at the Africa House Hotel, as advised, I was taken a little by surprise by the crowd of couples and all inclusive kinda tourists with their cameras pulled out and waiting for the lonely fisherman to sail right into the setting sun. I personally think the bar had a deal with the boat's owner because the timing was incredible, every day.

Although the town is actually quite run down it does not take long to succumb to its charme with the mixed african, arabic and asian influences, the maize of narrow alleys, the scent of spices everywhere and the general laid-backness of an island. The only thing that disturbed me while enjoying the view from the roof top terrace at the Emerson&Green Hotel were the familiar looking concrete blocks. As it turned out they were a present from the GDR in the 1960s, most probably related to the fact that Zanzibar (before uniting with mainland Tanzania) was the first non-socialist country acknowledging the German Democratic Republic. Another intriguing connection between Zanzibar and Germany is a sultans daughter who married a German and moved to Hamburg where she wrote down her views on and experiences in the western world. A rare account as it was usually the other way around.

Swahili style, architecture and interior, like here at the Mediterraneo Club in Dar es Salaam, has definitly fascinating elements. It tells you of lazy afternoons in the sun with a light breeze. Although, that can turn out to be a quite annoying wind that makes you hide behind the backside of the bungalow as happened to me at the Eastcoast of Zanzibar where we stayed with Uschi and Erwin at their Evergreen Bungalows.



A more urban example is the above mentioned Emerson&Green hotel which is basically a Swahili antique shop. Liz ("30 and proud of it") treated us all to a night there on her birthday and the rooms were so lovely we hardly left them. Laura had about 5 baths trying out the variety of locally made body scrubs while I enjoyed a food massage with clove oil on the cannapé, immediatly followed by a back massage, because it was so nice. In the evening we had a 6 course dinner on the floor of the hotels roof top crammed once more with loads of honeymooners, although a trio of german gay guys saved us from being the only odds out.

As my two travelmates had to get back to Kigali I went on to Dar by boat and almost regretted it, as, beautiful as it was, my stomach did not quite cope and needed to be settled with emergency drugs.

I stayed at a colleagues house in the posh area of Oysterbay and for the first time, thought with fondness of the more manageable size of Kigali. Although, this was but a preparation for what was to come in Nairobi. And traffic and distances aside I enjoyed my short visit to Dar and the people I met but especially the food. After one week of straight seafood in Zanzibar this was all about excellent Indian cuisine.


I went to Kenya for two reasons (sorry Kai, now you know I only used you for transport and shelter): big city life in Nairobi and a little bit of what I call the Kenya Romanticism derived from films and images like "out of africa" (no offence, I love the movie) and all the women who felt they needed to write down their going-native experiences with wild Maasai warriors. And although the weather at lake Naivasha didn't quite allow for romantic views on the Rift Valley and acacia trees glimmering in the heat I had my share of colonial reminiscence and adventure.
We stayed in a place with a colonial style mansion and basket-chairs on the massive lawn, Hippos pratically wandering the grounds at night and loads of retired English people.
As we walked around the crater lake marvelling at the view and the flamingos on the water we heard a noise in front of us. For a split second I was waiting for the lion to brake out of the bushes...but it was only a pair of young giraffes grazing peacefully about 10m away from us. One turned her head around, stared for a while and then backed off. The other stayed on for a while allowing us to walk around and see her in full beauty. It really makes you wonder how nature came up with a creature like that. Apparently they have really high blood pressure to pump blood all the way up to their head. At that point I felt really sorry I couldnt have been bothered to turn around and get my camera in the morning. On the other hand, if I wanted a picture, I could always buy one and the real image is in my head anyway.

More pictures of beachbums and ballrooms once I got my camera (and sunglasses!!) sent from Nairobi.

Dieu est Grand

No big news for some of you but somehow motorbikes are not made for girls, really. Try to ride it wearing a skirt pressing your knees together so your feet are pointing outwards, looks ridiculous. And the starring...not only is it a Muzungu, but it's a girl in a skirt....Oh.my.G.O.D.! And hey, don't even bother with the hair. Not that I do much anyway, but every now and again to put it up nicely and look like a girl would be great, but no, someone had to invent helmets and another one had to make wearing it obligatory in Kigali. Nothing wrong with safety and all that but it's so not for girls!

Im Büro

Hier mal wieder ein Eintrag fuer die etwas interessierteren, etwas aus meinem Alltag, sozusagen. Ein grosser Teil meines Alltags dazu, denn wie so viele andere auch verbringe ich natuerlich viel zu viel Zeit im Buero.

Zum Glueck tue ich das mit netten Kolleginnen und Kollegen, wobei...Kolleginnen ist schon richtig, denn so viele maennliche Mitarbeiter findet man nicht im Gesundheitsprogramm der deutschen Entwicklungszusammenarbeit in Ruanda (siehe uebrigens auch auf unserer website). Den einzigen ausser meinem Chef (und natuerlich den Fahrern) haben wir hier gerade verabschiedet.



Und da laesst sich die GTZ auch nicht lumpen, ein paar Samosa, Softdrinks oder Bier (letzteres erst nach Dienstschluss, versteht sich) oder zumindest ein Kuchen duerfen es schon sein. Fuer die aufmerksamen GTZ Mitarbeiter: das Logo natuerlich im Firmenrot.





So sieht es von aussen aus. Ich persoenlich habe das Vergnuegen dieses Anblicks oefter. Denn wenn ich mit dem Roller und meiner klaeglichen Hupe morgens den Berg runtergesaust komme, springt leider kein Waechter sofort auf und oeffnet das Tor. Dazu braucht es schon einen ordentlichen Allradantrieb. Aber, um ehrlich zu sein, es wird besser. Inzwischen haben sich die Leute an die komische Weisse gewoehnt und manchmal, ja manchmal sieht mich ein aufmerksamer Waechter schon von weitem und ich rausche die steile Rampe - ohne anschieben! - hinauf.


Seit neuestem brauchen wir uns auch nicht mehr um die laestigen Baeume und Hecken auf unserem Gelaende scheren, die uns nur Dreck und kaputte Mauern bereiten. Endlich freie Sicht auf die Stadt vom Parkplatz aus! Den Waechtern und Chauffeuren scheint es zu gefallen. Einer machte heut sogar noch den letzten aufmuepfigen Wurzeln den Garaus, da die Autos da immer so rueberhubbeln mussten. Wie unpraktisch!




Aber wann sind die Avocados endlich reif??

Wenn Experten reisen ...

Ich sass in einer shopping mall prunkvoll italienischen Stils, trank einen regulaeren Starbucks Capuccino, rechts von mir eine vereinigte arabisch-emiratische Familie nebst philippinischem Kindermaedchen, links ein - nur so geraten - Lehrer von der amerikanischen Schule, mit den Resultaten der letzten Mathearbeit, vor mir eine Gruppe junger Nachwuchsscheichs in ihren langen weissen Gewaendern und passend dazu schwarze Rockerbaseballcaps mit gueldenen Flammen drauf, als ich wieder einmal dachte, was fuer ein Leben, was fuer eine Welt!
In den letzten 2 Wochen betrat ich den Boden 4 verschiedener Laender (5, wenn Aserbaidschan mitzaehlt) , im Grossen und Ganzen eine Dienstreise, jedoch zugegebenermassen mit hohem Freizeitwert. Die neuen Fuehrungskraefte der deutschen Entwicklungszusammenarbeit trafen sich in Georgien an der Schwarzmeerkueste und ich durfte Protokoll schreiben, nee Quatsch, ich gehoer' natuerlich dazu! Die Flugroute Kigali - Tiflis ist nun nicht gerade die frequentierteste und das hatte den etwas anstrengenden aber irgendwie auch sehr reizvollen Nebeneffekt vieler Zwischenstopps (...und verspaeteten Gepacks). Nachts fliegen hat ja zudem den Vorteil, dass man tagsueber Zeit hat, die jeweilige Umgebung zu erkunden. Schlaf?? Ehem... der ist dabei natuerlich viel zu kurz gekommen und das nicht nur an den Reisetagen.
Wo fang ich an? Ich koennte ein lustiges Laenderbilderraten veranstalten, so wie wir das in Georgien gemacht haben, 11 Jungexperten in fast ebenso vielen Laendern, da kann es schonmal zu Verwirrungen kommen. Offensichtlich sehen die Huegel Ruandas denen Equadors zum Verwechseln aehnlich, schade dass wir den Experten in seinen Ausfuehrungen zu meinem Bild (siehe uebrigens oben, der permanente Ueberschriftenhintergrund) unterbrechen mussten, er wirkte sehr ueberzeugend ('ey sorry' Bernd, aber damit haste Dich wohl nicht nur in meinem und Philips blog verewigt).
Das Georgien mein erster Ausflug in die Gefilde des ehemaligen sowjetischen Bruderlandes war, mag komisch erscheinen, is aber so. Leider auch mit zu grossem Abstand zu meinem inzwischen sehr schlaefrigen Russisch. Wobei, das eine oder andere Wort war durchaus nuetzlich, oben in Kazbegi, einem verlassen wirkenden Ort im wilden Kauskasus an der Grenze zu Tschetschenien. Den Winter ueber total abgeschnitten, mit einiger architektonischer Altlast sozialistischer Natur, auf den ersten Blick ziemlich trist aber irgendwie charmant, zumal wenn die Sonne erstmal durchkommt.

arriving in Kazbegi, a small town surrounded by the impressing Caucasian Mountains on the old Georgian Military Road, the shortest but hardest route through the Caucasus







up the old monastery Zminda Sameba on 2100m









Szenenwechsel, Schwarzmeerkueste, Batumi, unser "Tagungsort", mitten in der autonomen Region Adscharien. Leider war es dort die meiste Zeit verregnet und wir haben wenig von der Stadt gesehen. Mediterranes Flair mischt sich hier mit norwegischem Fjordgefuehl und die noch schlummernde Strandpromenade verspricht einiges an Sommerriesenrad- und Zuckerwattenspass. Georgien lebte frueher vom Tourismus nur leider liegen seine Hauptattraktionen heute in den abtruennigen Regionen Suedossetien und vor allem weiter noerdlich an der Schwarzmeekueste in Abchasien.


on the shores of the Black Sea near the Turkish Border lies Batumi where our group of young GTZ experts stayed for almost a week to exchange our experiences so far. Why Georgia, you ask...?






Ein weiteres Zeugnis fuer das breite landschaftliche Spektrum Georgiens und erster Hoehepunkt unserer Reise war die Fahrt durch weite karge Steppenlandschaft zu einem Hoehlenkloster suedoestlich von Tbilisi. Dies ist uebrigens auch eines der Hauptanbaugebiete fuer den georgischen Wein, leider das einzig enttaeuschende Element, boh war der sauer...eh, trocken.

the cave monastery of Dawit-Garedscha near the border to Azerbaidjan, fantastic views and a bloody history. And after a short stroll around the premises I can only say: necessity of good hiking equipment? Totally overrated, boots with 2cm heels do just fine for some minor rock climbing! Thanks to Turkish Airways for that!






Tbilisi selbst ist eine aufstrebende, auf den ersten Blick modern wirkende Stadt. Alles blinkt ganz schoen bei Nacht, die Prachtstrasse aufgehuebscht, kommt man jedoch eins, zwei Ecken von der Hauptstrasse ab, ist man sofort umgeben von Ruinen. Die Stadt hat unheimlich viel Altbaubestand im Zentrum, wundervoll verzierte Balkone - auch hier wieder ein etwas maroderaber angenehmer Charme - aber auch ein cooles, kleines Szeneviertel mit Cafés und Kneipen, wie sie in faster jeder anderen Haupstadt zu finden sind. Hervorzuheben weiterhin die hiesigen Schwefelbaeder samt Ganzkoerperpeeling mit Klaps auf den Po gratis (davon hab ich leider kein Foto ;).

view from the old fortress of Narikala down on the city and the river Mtkwari. Far in the back you can see the snow topped mountains.









downtown Tbilisi where we had more than one beer or coffee, maybe it doesn't show too well, but the building in the back is half a ruin which clashes a bit with the nicely renovated surrounding - quite a typical image in Tbilisi







Wieder Szenenwechsel: Istanbul. Es gibt ja Staedte, von denen hat man schon so viel gehoert und gesehen, da kann das Original irgendwie nicht mithalten. So ging es mir mit Istanbul, das Tor zum Orient, zwischen Europa und Asien... Das Wetter war herrlich, die Moscheen glaenzten im Sonnenlicht, das Wasser war kristallblau und die tuerkischen Fahnen flatterten im Wind unter klarstem Himmel. Und dennoch, vielleicht war es nicht geheimnisvoll genug, vielleicht waren auch einfach nur zu viele Touristen da...und die Doenerbuden sahen aus, wie die in Berlin.

view over the roofs of Istanbul














Nicht, dass der erste Eindruck so sehr getaeuscht haette, aber auf dem Rueckweg hab ich noch ein paar andere Viertel entdeckt, die mich wieder etwas versoehnt haben. Galatasaray, mit vielen kleinen Gaesschen, unzaehligen Restaurants und Teestuben und der (wirklich) asiatische Teil, erreicht per Boot ueber den Bosporus.

Zu guter letzt zurueck nach Dubai, hmm, auch wieder so eine Mischung, diesmal aus Tucson, Arizona - nur etwas pompoeser - und Indien. Hab lange nicht so viele Inder auf einem Haufen gesehen und nicht mehr so lecker indisch gegessen. Ansonsten eher enttaeuschend, obwohl, eigentlich hatte ich gar keine Erwartungen, eigentlich wollte ich es mir nur mal ansehen und dafuer waren 2 Tage sehr wohl ausreichend. Nicht ganz widerstehen konnte ich einer Wuestentour, natuerlich nicht ohne dies zu bereuen, der totale Touristenzauber. Aber dennoch, ein kuehles Fosters unter dem Wuestenhimmel, auch wenn es nur etwa 5 Minuten vom Highway entfernt war, das war schon schoen, die Hennamalerei auf der Hand jedoch verblasst schon wieder, na ja, war ja auch umsonst...

'Camel light' outside Dubai in the desert: up the camel once around and down again, and by the way, if I had to choose between the camel and walking through the desert I am not sure if the camel would make the race...

Neulich in Bujumbura...

Buja plage, mit Blick aufs Zentrum, oben die Uni

und zwar am Oster und gleichzeitig Genozidjahrestagswochenende (jeder der konnte, verliess Kigali) ...das hier koennte ein sehr kurzer und vielleicht etwas einseitiger Eintrag werden. 3 Tage Sonne, Strand, lecker Essen und nur ein wahrlich kurzer Ausflug dahin, wo der Blick hingeht, ins Stadtzentrum von Buja.

Schon die Sicht aus dem Flugzeug verspricht einige Aenderungen, obwohl wir nur etwa 30 Minuten in der Luft sind, Burundi ist eine andere Welt. Die 1000 roetlichen Huegel werden gruener und machen dann einer weiten Ebene Platz. Zu viert landen wir in einer wahrhaft afrikanischen Hitze. Endlich kann man mal wieder einige Meter geradeaus sehen und in der Ferne flimmert der Asphalt. Es riecht anders, die Loecher in der Strasse sind groesser, aber anschnallen muessen wir uns im Taxi trotzdem.
Dann geht alles ganz schnell, ab ins schoenste Hotel am Platz, Klamottenwechsel und erstmal was kaltes zu trinken bestellt. Kurz darauf sind wir zu sechst und geniessen einfach den herrlichen Ausblick. Der Pool ist zwar gross und sehr einladend, aber irgendwie finden wir $8 etwas viel fuer eine kurze Erfrischung - und hey, der grosse Tanganyika See liegt direkt vor unserer Nase. Und wer glaubt schon wirklich an die gruseligen Geschichten von Gustave, dem boesen, hungrigen Krokodil?? So, hinein ins kuehle - haha, eher lauwarme - Nass, aber nicht zu weit, wer weiss....











strandbilder sehen auch immer gleich aus, irgendwie

tja, und dann einfach weiter rumfaulen. Schliesslich hat Buja einen guten Ruf was das Nachtleben angeht, wenn auch sonst nicht viel los ist. Und das will ausgeruht erkundet werden.
Und in der Tat, wir waren ueberrascht. Erst von einer wirklich verlockenden Speisekarte im Botanica - auch das Belvedere am naechsten Abend hatte mehr zu bieten, als nur den schoenen Blick - und dann von einer etwas bunteren Musikmischung und entspannten Atmosphaere im derzeit angesagtesten Club "Toxic".













vorschlafen


















eigentlich hatte ich die Badmintonschlaeger mit,
aber bei dem Wind, keine Chance!


dann eben lesen




















So ging es munter weiter bis zum Sonntagabend,
da mussten wir wieder heim.
und hier die Crew:

Joy und Franco

















Andrew, good old Brighton connection













und Liz (wer mitgezaehlt hat, wird Nummer 6 vermissen, well,
von ALex hab ich einfach kein Bild)



Als Nachtrag noch ein Bild vom 19. Maerz 2007. Falls das bei manchen von Euch ein Gloecklein klingeln laesst...das Huehnchen in karibischer Sosse war uebrigens vom feinsten, aber Lauras Mousse au chocolat Geburtstagskuchen...what can I say??

quoi de neuf...

...in Kigali? After months of construction finally, the very first Rwandan Coffee Shop opened.



view from the terrace








It looks very much like any other regular Star Bucks, although it lacks that touch of tranquility. Not only is it situated in a big shopping mall that could compete with any mall in Nairobi or Johannesburg but there must be at least a waiter for each table and they are all trying to be busy. After work it is a meeting place for the young and beautiful of Kigali, to see and to be seen. However, it is still exciting and the coffee is good, made in Rwanda, of course!







also on the menu: breezy fruit blur or fruity berry breeze or something like that





Another thing that was much talked about and finally happened was Badminton. I had brought 4 bats from Germany and we set off to Lake Muhazi for a sunday picknick once more to give it a go.

much to everyones excitement and pleasure whether they were playing like Ulrich and me....











...or just watching, like Joy and Liz.

Save Knut

Karl-Marx-Allee, former Stalinallee, East Berlin

When I was back in Berlin for a well deserved holiday in February I heard the first time about Knut, the little polar bear born in the Berlin Zoo. Now back in Kigali, I listened to the Deutsche Welle Radio reporting on some animals right fanatics who suggested he would better be put to sleep than being raised by humans. I say: Save Knut!

Knut

Of course, the two weeks were far too short and busy for real holidays. However, I was there with the stars and it wasn't as cold as I feared it would be after all.
But Berlin and Ouagadougou aren't the only places with film festivals. Add Rwanda to the cinematic map and welcome to Hillywood! On Friday the 3rd Rwandan Film Festival was ceremoniously opened with a 80min long advertisement documentary on Rwanda ("Rwanda Rising"). We all agreed afterwards that it was definitly needed to correct the country's image abroad as for many people genocide is still the first and sometimes only thing that comes to their mind. If that attempt should be left to an ex-mayor of Adlända, Georgia (no offence, Jiyeon!!) though, remains debatable. The festival also features a couple of German movies, courtesy of the German Embassy, but it seemed I was the only one enjoying the "schnoddrigen Berliner Humor" of "Alles auf Zucker" in the crowd. We were sitting outside the major entrance of Kigali Institute of Science and Technology (KIST) when people started to murmur. My friend Laura said it must be that Rwanda scored against Marocco (the game was on simultaneously) ...unlikely as it seemed...and indeed, it turned out that they only expressed their dissatisfaction with the movie. I have to say, though, that I could see where they were coming from.
Skimming further through the program it became obvious fairly quickly that it was a little unbalanced and depressive in its choice of films as the majority was dealing with issues of genocide, violence and trauma. Maybe you wouldn't really expect anything else from Rwandan film makers only 12 years after genocide, it took 10 years in Germany to make fun of GDR and socialism (sorry if that seems a little far fetched), but why also showing a whole lot of foreign films with the same issues? Why not allowing for a tiny bit of happiness and easy going even if it was only for the length of a film? We were watching more films tonight, "Darfur Diaries" and another documentary on Holocaust survivors, and it was watching the misery of the refugees and accounts of enormous horrors when I thought, maybe it's just good to know that you are not the only one suffering the unimaginable? This was kind of confirmed later when we saw the motto of this years festival: "sharing stories". Although, as there were only a handful of Rwandans around us I wondered how many people this message was going to reach?