Putting on the final show

Several times I was asked about the composition of the group for the final workshop, today and tomorrow. I think I expressed myself clearly. The group was to comprise 10 women from Rugarama and 10 from Burera, making my usual total of 20.

When Antoine and I arrive in good time for this morning's start there are already 23. During the next 15 minutes another 10 come into the church, well on the way to 20 from each village. What to do?

I don't think I can send any away - they have all been invited. Identifying the breakdown in communication would be a waste of time and effort. Yesterday we had the opposite problem of only 5, then 7, then finally 13, being present out of the expected 20. So at least I have a little extra lunch money in hand.

I outline the programme for today: comments on successes and failures in growing veg since my visit a year ago; describing and handing over the final batch of seeds, including some new to Agrotec in Kigali since March; reading and discussing the vitamin and mineral notes; planning for cooking tomorrow.

The first woman to speak produces a handful of plants that she has grown but doesn't know how to use: a large shiny leaf of spinach beet, a sad sprig of parsley, some leaves and flowers of rocket, a tough leaf and a thick flower stalk from lettuce. Another gives a bunch of first class parsley, which I wish I could keep in that condition till tomorrow. Several more leaves of spinach beet are added to the collection.

The hesitation over parsley and leaf beet surprises me. Some, it turns out, have been using them along with other greens. I acknowledge the Rwandan cultural reluctance to try new foods. I tell the class about the lettuce gone to seed at Gahanga, and about somebody at Mutura (actually Alphonse) bringing me a giant rocket plant at arm's length because he thought it might well be poisonous, it tasted so disgusting. I ask the women to bring some of what they have grown for us to use tomorrow. We shall have to do without lettuce, however, for it has all bolted. They were particularly suspicious, they say, when the plants came up different colours. I show them some pictures of mixed salad leaves from my invaluable seed and plant catalogues. 'Oh!' they say.

I'm sorry I didn't manage to do a better job of explaining what I was giving them a year ago. But this workshop is in response to a request from the Burera representative at the conference in Kigali, so I am doing my best now to fill in some gaps. Antoine tells me several times in the course of the morning about how different things are here from in town.

I have texted Rachel, who is coming by the early bus from Kigali tomorrow, to warn her of the large number and ask her to buy beetroot and cucumber, which are not available in the village market. I had thought I might manage this last round of cooking without her, especially since Antoine has had some experience of my cooking for his family. With these numbers, however, I shall be very glad of her experience and her calm.

While the women are in small groups, reading the handouts, Antoine and I go to look at the kitchen we are to use tomorrow. It belongs to a local group of the long-established US charity called Compassion, who seem to provide basic food to large groups. They have half a dozen huge cooking pots, plastic buckets with lids as serving vessels, and 50 plates. There are two fireplaces for cooking with wood, but no charcoal cookers. The two staff showing us round are keen to be helpful. If I make a list of our requirements they will see what they can do. I thank them and go back to the group.

I keep half an hour free after the vitamins and minerals to make some plans for tomorrow: it is barely enough. I have listed what still needs to be found: smaller cooking pots and charcoal cookers, large cooking spoons, knives, trays for preparation and serving fruit and salads, dishes and ladles for serving.

Other groups have done well at bringing in what was needed, but these women are slow to respond. I wonder if they are ashamed of their shabby pots and pans and their knives without handles. I stress that everything can be taken home again. I say we shall be there all day if we have only a few saucepans but many dishes to cook, and that I would prefer not to serve the food on banana leaves.

Some tentative offers are made. Antoine takes over. We need to write down the names, he says. Eventually we have offers of 6 saucepans and 5 charcoal cookers, 2 cooking spoons, 9 trays and 10 serving spoons. Knives and serving dishes we leave to chance after a general request.

Then we start on the food. One woman will order the liver today and collect it early tomorrow: atypically, she says she will use her own money and I can pay her back. Another offers 2 litres of milk from her cow. 3 will meet Antoine and me when the market starts at 9 and load his car with a sack of charcoal, 15 kilos of potatoes, 3 kilos of rice, four packets of pasta, plus what fruit and veg is available. There are lively responses to the request to bring home grown veg - we may disappear under a mountain of spinach.

I'll tell you after tomorrow how things work out, and post some pictures when I can.