Driver Ghasana and his family

** We realized we still had a few Africa stories to share with you such as this one and the safari we did in Tanzania. So we apologize for backtracking from Bangkok **

‘Ghasana’ was our driver for quite a few of our roadtrips while in Ruhengeri. We got to know him as the driver that Cathy would have to threaten to drive slower, by offering to lower his tip everytime she had to tell him to slow down.

He’s the guy who ran out of gas while on the way to Nyarama. We only know this because the car stopped and he had to walk to the nearest gas station to get gas, while the rest of us sat with the car on the edge of a busy roadway . Which finally explained why there were empty gas canisters sitting in the car.

He's the guy who's the father of Toufiq, the smiling, suave, stylish boy we hung out with at Lake Kivu (we have a post about that trip).

Net net – Ghasana built a reputation for himself as a sweet, if slightly scatterbrained, fellow. So of course, when he invited the group to his house the night after ‘boy’s night’ at the Soldier Bar, the boys happily accepted and I happily tagged along.

I was already looking forward to meeting Mrs Ghasana – the woman’s reputation preceded her, as apparently she held court at the soldier bar the night the boys went out. As well, she was the only woman there that night, and managed to make herself at home, in spite of being a somewhat conservative muslim lady. There are reports of dancing as well, but we’ll pretend those reports are unsubstantiated…

At 5pm on the Saturday Ghasana came by to pick us up and we dutifully went over with gifts of food for the home. As soon as we arrived the respect-o-meter for Ghasana skyrocketed. His kids were beautifully dressed, his wife and family seemed really happy and healthy and he kept his family in a really nice house. We were taken out back where Ron explained we were going to see ‘domestic lifestock’ but when we rounded the corner we were greeted by large, potted mushrooms. Not sure how mushrooms got translated to domestic lifestock, but that is a minor detail.

After the tour, we were seated in the living room where two of Mrs. Ghasana’s friends had come to visit. They wanted to get a closer look at the muzungus who came to dinner, no doubt. Suddenly one of the women looked at me and said ‘I know you. You gave me a goat! Julie!’ Sure enough, we fished out the laptop to take a look at all our goat pictures, and there was Mrs. Ghasana’s friend, pictured with Julie, her goat. I looked with some concern at the plate of meat curry before me, pointed at it and enquired ‘Julie?’. Thankfully, I was wrong, and little Julie was alive and well loved by the lady’s two daughters, who apparently make up songs about Julie and sing them to her. It made us feel good to know that the goat, and her owners were still keeping quite happy.

Once dinner was over we dutifully went outside the house to take some pictures where it seems like the whole part of town stopped to stare at the foreigners, after which we all walked home with our swollen bellies, and a warm place in our hearts for Ghasana. It was also pretty darn cool to share a meal with one of our goat recipients. All in all, an excellent evening.  

- Dal

Night before Ghasana's house..hanging at the solider bar. Max (German who was volunteering for a year), Ronnie's brother Collins (who reminded us of Bowfinger), me, Ronnie, Ghasana and Mrs Ghasana

Ghasana and his wonderful family

The woman on the far right, a family friend, was a goat recipient !

Big group photo

Julie, the goat

Bonus photo ! As we walked home from Ghasana's house, Steve and I came across this kid with a Winnipeg Jets jersey ! Gotta love retro NHL jerseys in Rwanda.