Shopping

Written Thurs 24th, posted Friday 25th

Yesterday was a very busy day. After teaching I shopped for supper for 9, then worked in the American teachers' kitchen with Cassie and Ruth and Gaudance, using Gaudance's bountiful harvest of the basil planted during my last visit. When I admired it in her garden last week she admitted not knowing how to use it. So last night's event took shape – drawing on Ruth and Krystan from Canada and Cassie from Texas, for recipes from countries where the basil grows much bigger and better than it does for me. We had spaghetti with tomato and basil sauce, pasta with two kinds of basil pesto (one including rocket), salad with basil vinaigrette and poached white fish with a different basil vinaigrette – the last from the internet. It made a surprisingly varied plateful.

Today has been set aside for preparation for tomorrow and Saturday, when a group of six of the women I know best and have worked with three times already will do some experimental cooking. I've been keeping my eyes open for the equipment I need. Today will be make or break.

Rachel and I set off after a leisurely breakfast. She has a new computer from one of her employers and needs to get internet access and virus protection. Nearby I want to buy some coffee for breakfasts and scrutinise the nut and seed section of the biggest supermarket, hoping to find evidence that sesame seeds and macadamia nuts are not unknown, working up to researching whether the trees are being introduced here, as rumour suggests. But Nakumatt has a power cut and from the Indian shop round the corner I buy only turmeric.

It is becoming clear that we won't have time to do all the jobs on our lists in town before going to Kicukiro, the market area near the Friends Church compound at Kagarama. So after Rachel's modem has been activated we do no more than buy an inner tube for tomorrow's solar cooking. For that I need Rachel's Kinyarwanda, as I do for finding a glass supplier in Kicukiro and getting a sheet cut to fit over the inner tube. Asking at a petrol station and being directed to the maintenance workshop for the moto riders, we get the inner tube inflated. Just in time, we phone Antoine to give us a lift up the hill with glass and rubber ring before his appointment elsewhere.

Next is further discussion of the arrangements for the next two days with Monique, who runs the part of the church buildings at Kagarama known as 'the centre', separately from the church and its offices, and the domain of David Bucura, Jean Baptiste and Therese which includes the newly extended children's peace library and its programme of peer mediation. Yes, it's very complex and I keep learning more of how much I don't know. As I take more responsibility for arrangements, accounting and scheduling for my work with each visit I'm continually trying to anticipate problems. Today it emerges that if Monique is not providing food for our group we'll be expected to pay to use her crockery, cutlery and cooking pots, in addition to the room rental I was expecting.

A quick phone call to Ruth and Krystan, whose house is next to the church, results in the promised loan of cups, plates and a cooking pot. If David is driving in on Saturday it won't be difficult to take extra items from Rachel's kitchen. I have knives, peelers and graters for making salads. The teachers' house and its well stocked kitchen will also be within easy reach.

I pay the room rental and collect the receipt with obligatory rubber stamp. Monique says she knows where to look for a board to go under the tyre cooker. Rachel has further business here and we separate.

Now for the kind of detail I am always afraid will trip me up. I know Jean Baptiste has printing and photocopying in his office. I check that he will be there in the morning. He will, and photocopying will be fine but the printer is out of ink. I return to Nicodeme, whose new office adjoins tomorrow's work room, to ask if he could print a couple of pages for me on the new printer we have just been admiring. He won't be in tomorrow but would be happy to do it now. I didn't think far enough ahead to put the necessary flash drive in my bag this morning. He suggests the yearly meeting office so I go round the back of the church but it's all locked up. Happily Antoine is returning from his appointment; there is a printer in his office; it is working; he will be there between 8 30 and 9.30 tomorrow. Phew!

I think everything is now in place for the tyre cooker, including a black cooking pot borrowed from Rachel's father's solar cooker. The second project is to make an insulated nest for the slow cooking of ingredients heated by wood or charcoal. Practical Action (the charity that used to be called Intermediate Technology) has a design, with rather sketchy instructions. One of Anne's compilations of useful suggestions has a photo of another. It's apparently recommended by the government here though nobody I know has one; it's known as a peacemaker. It's what I called a haybox when I was a Girl Guide.

Rachel and I have been looking for a suitable container. Soon after the beginning of my enquiries she bought a couple of beautiful baskets but they were too small and she took them back. I have considered a banana leaf hamper in a tourist shop, a large plastic plant pot and a utilitarian plastic bin. None is quite right and only the last is a reasonable price. As we left the house this morning I spotted a laundry basket that would serve though it's unnecessarily tall. We could use it, Rachel says, but they're expensive and she wouldn't be able to recommend a place to buy them as it came from a travelling salesman or similar. Then she thinks of a large waste paper basket in the house worker's room. It's the best yet, and light enough to carry on the bus if necessary tomorrow, though we won't be popular if the bus is full.

What else does the project require? I've been doing my best to make sure both Rachel and Gaudance understand the need for plenty of rags to stuff the cushions. I'm borrowing a sewing machine from Cassie. I have a couple of pairs of scissors.

Now to buy the tough fabric to enclose the rags.

Ruth has recommended a fabric shop called Maman Fatuma. I think I can find it. I take the bus back into town. It's after one and I'm getting hungry. I've arranged with Rachel that I'll find lunch in town. I remember that Dorothy (now back in England) once suggested meeting at a place called La Galette. I spotted it once but haven't visited. It's near the seed shops and I might as well top up on seed supplies now I'm here. I buy another 60 or 70 packets of seeds – for the women tomorrow and three more full workshops of 15.

As I leave the second seed shop I ask for directions to La Galette. It is where I expected. What I didn't expect is that it's sub-titled German Butchery. The language of the labels and the menu is French, nevertheless. The shop part has many interesting supplies and I buy coffee and brown bread. Then lunch takes the usual 45 minutes to arrive, despite being only an egg salad. It's good and I'm refreshed and well rested.

It's steeply uphill to Maman Fatuma and the sun is hot but it's not too far. The shop is much smaller than I expected. I'm beckoned in past three people battling waves of clear plastic tablecloth printed with pink roses and emitting a strong plastic smell. I show an illustration of what I need. I'm sent through a narrow opening into a second room. Bales and rolls of fabric are stacked on all four sides up to the ceiling. The assistant allocated to me has little French (and no English). How on earth shall I choose? I do, however, on weight and price. I'm passed to a different assistant who measures and cuts, in between contributing to the taming of the plastic. Anything else? I need needles. A box containing at least a hundred packets of steel needles, made in China, is passed to me. But they're all the same size and too big. Another box is produced. That will do. Thread? A box with a dozen to choose from. Done. As I leave I spot a stack of at least fifteen folded rosy tablecloths, each two metres by three. The cutting, billowing and constraining continues. Who could need so many?

It's a ten minute hot walk back to the bus stop. Some people here say the sun feels hottest before it rains. Thunder rumbles. I'm glad to get a place on the first bus, though it's one of the uncomfortable fold down seats. Two minutes after I'm home the rain comes. Rain is good; getting drenched is not.

At supper with David and Rachel I ask for clarification about 'umuganda' on Saturday. The last Saturday of every month is designated for communal work – nobody thought of that when the workshop dates were agreed - and the roads are closed till 11am. However, when I realised last week that there would be a problem they said we'd be OK getting to Kagarama early – around 8 – to prepare the food for cooking in the new devices. Now they say we'd have to be there before 7 to avoid the roadblocks and whoever drove us would not be able to get away. And I hoped I'd thought of everything!

Rachel says we can discuss it with the group tomorrow and make a plan. I'll report on what transpires.