It's hard enough keeping one blog, let alone two.
Please visit this link
URL:
http://www.rwandainitiative.ca/internship/
interns/kawai-blog/index.html
You'll have to conjoin the two lines of the above URL.... It won't link as a single line, as far as i can tell from here.
The Rwanda Initiative blog of mine. They update slowly sometimes...but i can't afford to spend hours in this internet cafe....HOURS>.. apparently Rwanda has fast internet compared to many other African nations....
yikes.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Kagame is everywhere
Go into any important building (or just any office building really) in Rwanda and you will see the face of Paul Kagame at the entrance, and also sometimes in various rooms. Kate and Melodie have a rest in one of the offices at Radio Rwanda.
At the station, they use half digital and half analog. Digital recorders to get the sound in the field, but they convert it to analog before broadcast. I'm sure Melodie, who will be working there for the next month, will have much to learn, and unlearn.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Radio Salus in Butare
I really do wish i coudl upload more photos at the moment, but the internet is pretty horrible. Basically the Journalists for Human Rights chapter at Carleton University organized a way by which we could bring new radio equipment to Radio Salus, near Butare. They have a modern looking studio area, but the rest of the building is very basic, with 3 or 4 computers and bare white walls. Also, dead air is quite common in Rwanda, i'm told. The same thing happens on TV. It's just so very different here.
I'll try to post my "real" blog for the past few days asap, at a faster internet access point.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Sad reminder in Butare
Today in Butare I gave a young street child a photojournalism magazine I was finished with. Not 20 seconds later a man had stolen it from her.
Cadillac - no photos, sorry
Play before work is the name of the game. Thursday is the first day of work for the six of us here. Until then, it seems like we are set to get a taste of as many aspects of Rwandan life as possible, including the clubbing scene.
After showering, changing clothes and “30 seconds” of the girls putting on makeup, we set down the long winding dirt and cobble stone roads for a 20-minute walk to one of the biggest Kigali nightclubs, Cadillac.
At 1500 Francs (3 bucks) to get in and 1000 Francs for each bee (or water), the outing was a bargain compared with the cost of going to most Canadian clubs. The atmosphere—Kyla and I agreed—was closer to that of a stripclub—black lights, glowing patterned carpeting surrounding the dance floor and mirrors on the walls/columns/ceilings. A front projection TV was tuned to sports highlights, big fans oscillated at every corner of the room and the music was a steady mix of African something, reggae, hip-hop and American popular.
Approximately 90 per cent of the club was male, interestingly enough, perhaps less so towards the end of the night—we left at 3:30 a.m. or so, but it was open until 6 a.m.
Great fun, friendly people, good times. I think I may have gained some new respect among the locals, having been seen dancing with six Muzungu (a ubiquitous Kinyarwandan word for white) girls at a time. Many suggested that I was obligated to share them. To this I would simply smile.
After showering, changing clothes and “30 seconds” of the girls putting on makeup, we set down the long winding dirt and cobble stone roads for a 20-minute walk to one of the biggest Kigali nightclubs, Cadillac.
At 1500 Francs (3 bucks) to get in and 1000 Francs for each bee (or water), the outing was a bargain compared with the cost of going to most Canadian clubs. The atmosphere—Kyla and I agreed—was closer to that of a stripclub—black lights, glowing patterned carpeting surrounding the dance floor and mirrors on the walls/columns/ceilings. A front projection TV was tuned to sports highlights, big fans oscillated at every corner of the room and the music was a steady mix of African something, reggae, hip-hop and American popular.
Approximately 90 per cent of the club was male, interestingly enough, perhaps less so towards the end of the night—we left at 3:30 a.m. or so, but it was open until 6 a.m.
Great fun, friendly people, good times. I think I may have gained some new respect among the locals, having been seen dancing with six Muzungu (a ubiquitous Kinyarwandan word for white) girls at a time. Many suggested that I was obligated to share them. To this I would simply smile.
Getting used to it here
As I sat in the front seat of a modest but comfortable taxi car on the way to downtown Kigali, I couldn’t help but wonder if my (comparatively) white arm hanging out the window was getting us more attention from locals than we needed. I eventually retired my hand back to my knee for a different reason: traffic flow is pretty much improvised here.
Sure, there are traffic lights. They look very similar to the ones in Canada, save the fact that they don’t light up. It’s surprising how well traffic seems to move through intersections. Comparatively, Vietnam is much worse for traffic. There is also lots of human traffic, many people carrying/balancing large objects or containers on their heads, no help from their hands. It’s impressive to see this in person.
The two taxis drove us into an area where we could exchange some American dollars for Rwandan Francs. One dollar got us 548 Francs. Most of use exchanged about $200, and plan on stretching that for two weeks at least.
The biggest problem we’ve run into concerning money is that exchange shops suddenly don’t accept American bills printed earlier than 1999. “A bad year,” they say—alluding to counterfeiting, I assume. Too bad half the bills we have are printed before this date. They also give you less for your buck if you’re exchanging anything below a $50 ($1=500, in these cases. Things I wish we knew before coming here. Sigh.
With fresh local currency in hand, we walked to the UTC Mumuji building—the closest thing to a Canadian mall in Kigali. It’s where white people seem to go to feel at home. I must admit, a wave of western comfort comes over me in this building. There is a coffee place called Bourbon where foreigners account for more than half the customers. They brew Rwandan coffee, which any local will tell you is the best coffee in the world. There is also free WiFi with any purchase, and so three of us brought laptops and shared them to send emails to our parents.
Bien sure, ça devient plus facile à parler français ici, même ci ma grammaire n’est pas parfaite. La plupart des Rwandans savent comment parler français, beaucoup savent l’Anglais, et seulement aux occasions rares, nous rencontrons les gens qui parlent seulement Kinyarwandan. En tout cas, ce n’est pas trop difficile à communiquer.
Eating is also made quite easy for us. There is a cook at the house I’m staying at called Maria who takes two buses just to get here every day. She is fabulous and makes great sponge cakes, cookies, fresh passion fruit juice and a variety of hot meals. Today she made mini pizzas, potatoes, rice, beans, beef stew and steamed veggies. There’s always fresh fruit on the table and there’s always beer in the fridge. Mutzig beer is the best I’ve tasted here so far, and at about a buck fifty a bottle, it’s cheaper than Fanta in most places.
Sure, there are traffic lights. They look very similar to the ones in Canada, save the fact that they don’t light up. It’s surprising how well traffic seems to move through intersections. Comparatively, Vietnam is much worse for traffic. There is also lots of human traffic, many people carrying/balancing large objects or containers on their heads, no help from their hands. It’s impressive to see this in person.
The two taxis drove us into an area where we could exchange some American dollars for Rwandan Francs. One dollar got us 548 Francs. Most of use exchanged about $200, and plan on stretching that for two weeks at least.
The biggest problem we’ve run into concerning money is that exchange shops suddenly don’t accept American bills printed earlier than 1999. “A bad year,” they say—alluding to counterfeiting, I assume. Too bad half the bills we have are printed before this date. They also give you less for your buck if you’re exchanging anything below a $50 ($1=500, in these cases. Things I wish we knew before coming here. Sigh.
With fresh local currency in hand, we walked to the UTC Mumuji building—the closest thing to a Canadian mall in Kigali. It’s where white people seem to go to feel at home. I must admit, a wave of western comfort comes over me in this building. There is a coffee place called Bourbon where foreigners account for more than half the customers. They brew Rwandan coffee, which any local will tell you is the best coffee in the world. There is also free WiFi with any purchase, and so three of us brought laptops and shared them to send emails to our parents.
Bien sure, ça devient plus facile à parler français ici, même ci ma grammaire n’est pas parfaite. La plupart des Rwandans savent comment parler français, beaucoup savent l’Anglais, et seulement aux occasions rares, nous rencontrons les gens qui parlent seulement Kinyarwandan. En tout cas, ce n’est pas trop difficile à communiquer.
Eating is also made quite easy for us. There is a cook at the house I’m staying at called Maria who takes two buses just to get here every day. She is fabulous and makes great sponge cakes, cookies, fresh passion fruit juice and a variety of hot meals. Today she made mini pizzas, potatoes, rice, beans, beef stew and steamed veggies. There’s always fresh fruit on the table and there’s always beer in the fridge. Mutzig beer is the best I’ve tasted here so far, and at about a buck fifty a bottle, it’s cheaper than Fanta in most places.
Arrival
We left on Tuesday, May 8 and arrived in Rwanda two days later via overnight flights separated by a full day in London, England. The good news is that we arrived safe in Kigali with all our bags. As for the bad news…well, there’s really no bad news, except that we’re very tired.
I would also consider it bad news that Solange (our wonderful liaison here in Rwanda) has informed us that we can’t take photos in the city without permission from the national authority. We are told that basically not even tourists can snap photos without facing risk of being detained by local authorities. Whether this is true or not is still hazy at this point. Solange seems to think it won’t be a problem when I am shooting for the New Times and Newsline, but I have my doubts now.
There is always the possibility to apply for government permission to shoot. Such permission, however, is supposed to cost mucho dineros. I’ll find out soon enough what option is ideal for a foreigner in my position. In the meantime, sadly, I will be leaving my camera in the house.
Speaking of which, the house is quite nice. It is nothing as I expected. In fact, it is much more than I expected: nice yard, huge sitting areas, several washrooms, great food prepared every day and even my own room. The property is surrounded by brick walls rimmed with razor wire and broken glass shards. Security guards are always at the gate.
We are staying in two houses, just minutes walk away from each other. Cynthia, Melodie, Emilie and Kyla are in the other house. Kate and I are in the other house with John, Solange and Sally. A few more interns and journalists will arrive in both houses as the summer goes by.
There is no really easy access to internet, and therefore, I have little choice but to write these blogs, transfer them to my jump drive, and post them the following day from an internet café (or possibly the newsroom, when I start my work).
We all start our internships next Thursday, a full week from our arrival. The reason for this is to leave time for an orientation program whereby we see the Journalism School in Butare, visit the main news outlets in Kigali and see one of the larger genocide memorials (the name escapes me at the moment) in the city. I can’t wait.
I would also consider it bad news that Solange (our wonderful liaison here in Rwanda) has informed us that we can’t take photos in the city without permission from the national authority. We are told that basically not even tourists can snap photos without facing risk of being detained by local authorities. Whether this is true or not is still hazy at this point. Solange seems to think it won’t be a problem when I am shooting for the New Times and Newsline, but I have my doubts now.
There is always the possibility to apply for government permission to shoot. Such permission, however, is supposed to cost mucho dineros. I’ll find out soon enough what option is ideal for a foreigner in my position. In the meantime, sadly, I will be leaving my camera in the house.
Speaking of which, the house is quite nice. It is nothing as I expected. In fact, it is much more than I expected: nice yard, huge sitting areas, several washrooms, great food prepared every day and even my own room. The property is surrounded by brick walls rimmed with razor wire and broken glass shards. Security guards are always at the gate.
We are staying in two houses, just minutes walk away from each other. Cynthia, Melodie, Emilie and Kyla are in the other house. Kate and I are in the other house with John, Solange and Sally. A few more interns and journalists will arrive in both houses as the summer goes by.
There is no really easy access to internet, and therefore, I have little choice but to write these blogs, transfer them to my jump drive, and post them the following day from an internet café (or possibly the newsroom, when I start my work).
We all start our internships next Thursday, a full week from our arrival. The reason for this is to leave time for an orientation program whereby we see the Journalism School in Butare, visit the main news outlets in Kigali and see one of the larger genocide memorials (the name escapes me at the moment) in the city. I can’t wait.
