Kigutu Dinner from on Vimeo.
These are hens with no name. Unlike, Asman Ashura, the Muslim goat who not only has a name but also harem of lady goats. Asman will soon to be featured here.
A friend invited me to to accompany him on his monthly trip to the barber. In Rwanda the barber shops are called Saloons. In Burundi, they're Salons. You say Saloon. I say Salon. Let's call the whole thing off.
Security is a serious issue in Burundi. After a recent ambush on the road leading to the VHW clinic where beloved driver Claude was killed, security forces accompany every vehicle bound for the clinic. During our daytime drives between Bujumbura and Kigutu we travel with police. But since we were traveling at night we took a couple of military guys. They mugged for the camera after protecting us the entire ride along National Route 3.
It was a dark and stormy night. After a vehicle mix up we got a late start in our drive from Kigutu back to Bujumbura. By the time we rolled into town we were hungry. So we made a pit stop at a restaurant where people lounged under tin coverings, sipping their Amstels, protected from the rain. As we were led to our table, a woman approached me and said, I was the first white person to ever step into her restaurant. We had our picture taken together.
We scouted the mountain looking for the perfect spot to film the interview with the founder of Village Health Works. We wanted to film outside to show the utter beauty of the community where he grew up and where he has returned to re-build a community after 13 years of war.
The wild card when filming in outdoor locations is the sun. Clouds come and go. The sun shines brightly, then dips behind some trees. We needed a sheet to diffuse the sun's rays to ensure consistent light throughout the 3 hour interview.
All the sheets that we found had wild prints on them. So we set out to a village near the base of the mountain. There we found a man selling narrow strips of white linen. Across the street: a sewing shop. We may not be Hollywood, but with these few production expenses we managed to revitalize the local economy for the day.
See the final results of the sewing project here:
One of the biggest problems that the doctors of VHW see on a regular basis is malnourished children. Cassava is a staple crop and the leafy vines are ubiquitous along roadsides and in small garden patches. However, cassava offers no nutritional value and leaves babies and children starved of the vitamins and minerals they need to develop properly.
VHW is trying to fix that. They have planted a vegetable gardens and fruit trees. Members of the community come daily to work in the gardens and take home long blue plastic bags filled with sweet potato or carrot seedlings. They take them back to their gardens at home -- fortifying their diets with veggies rich with vitamins.
Watermelons were introduced and planted earlier this year. They are by far the most popular garden item. The flesh of this melon is pinky white, but so sweet and refreshing after a full day of running around the mountainside with heavy camera equipment. And a nice change for the palate after many days of rice, beans and Irish potatoes.
With the VHW founder, executive director, board of directors, and a NY-based architect who will be designing the new women's center, we went on a walked down a dirt path, under African Palm leaves to visit many of the villagers who come to the VHW clinic. We greeted a woman who was well over 70 years old, held a baby that was only 1 week old. We looked at homes constructed from mud and straw. Their poor ventilation is a breeding ground for tuberculosis, one of the diseases most commonly treated at VHW.
A typical evening in Kigutu.
We accompanied the VHW founder on a flower buying expedition in Bugurama, a thirty minute drive from Bujumbura along a winding mountain road. He believes that poor deserve to be surrounded by tranquility and beauty as much as the wealthy. And it with this in mind that he has created a garden oasis, with the help of a large staff of grounds workers. VHW isn't just a health clinic. Entering through the gates, one feels like she's stepped into an Eden.
When Claudine isn't working as a janitor at VHW, she teaches girls educational songs about HIV/AIDS prevention.
While we shot a time lapse of the sunset over Lake Tanganyika from the hills of Bujumbura we were entertained by Best Crew -- a local performance group.
Strawberry Flavor Obama gum
New Years Eve Burundian Drummers in Kigutu from
We leave Bujumbura and drive two hours south along the shore of Lake Tanganyika, Congo's mountains border the lake's edge. In Mugare, we turn left off National Route 3, and begin our steep ascent up the bumpy dirt road that leads to the mountain of Kigutu where Village Health Works is perched. It's a path that thousands of patients take mostly by foot, to receive free treatment. As we jostled about in the vehicle, I think of the truly dire cases -- ones that require ambulance pick up. For the sick, the ride in the ambulance can't be comfortable with all the rocks and pot holes we hit.
For almost five years I have heard about Deo's vision to create a health care oasis in the community where he was born and raised. Everyone, he believes, including the poorest people in the world should have access to health care, regardless whether they can afford to pay. And with most hospitals and doctors located in Bujumbura - the great distance and costs make seeking medical attention difficult if not impossible.
Last night after watching the sunset over Lake Tanganyika while the hippos splashed in the shallow water near the rushes, we headed to Botanika for some dinner. The restaurant is a little garden oasis, off Bujumbura's busy streets. The Executive Director of Village Health Works had arrived in town and we took this opportunity to welcome her and hear more about the project. I was excited to try the mukeke, a local dish of fish from the lake. But they were all out so we all found delicious alternatives. No one ordered the lumb.
I arrived at the Bujumbura airport a little after midnight last night. The airport is beautiful. A Beaux Arts collection of domes that is a worthy location for the next Bond flick. Can't you see the Bond girl being rescued from the top of the dome?
Flight delays at JFK
People have come to expect an airline food update from me, so here it is. I may be one of the only people on the planet who looks forward to a good airline meal. But this time, KLM airlines let me down with their mile-high kitchen.
KLM had two different opportunities to impress me - NYC-Amsterdam and Amsterdam-Nairobi, but neither will be remembered in the catalog of great airline meals. "Dinner" on the flight from NYC to Amsterdam was a serving of a sweet, boggy red goo slathered over what they called "chicken." I drank my mediocre red wine and lavished in the impossibly abundant leg room of the exit row.
Unbelievably, the Amsterdam to Nairobi leg saw a decline. The "sesame noodle salad" was composed of mushy noodles and tasted like it had been sitting in a can since before the start of the Cold War. While the entree was equally inedible, it did present a curious first for me. Next to yet another "chicken" dish with sugary red sauce was a heap of reconstituted potatoes. Nothing unusual here. But when I scooped in to try what would be my only bite of the dish, my fork struck skin. Potato skin. A bit confounded, I began to wonder, a. are these reconstituted potato skins or b. did someone actually cook a real red potato, peel off the skin and add it to the reconstituted potatoes. Or c. Maybe these potatoes aren't reconstituted at all. Maybe they were just prepared in a way that makes them tasteas though they are. Food for thought. When the kind KLM steward came around with cardboard packs of ice cream, I forgave them.
Kenya Airway's chicken was surprisingly delicious. It was a blend of rice and raisins, cinnamon and pepper. It actually tasted like, er, food.
In the greater scheme of things I have nothing to complain about. I arrived at my final destination on time. My luggage arrived. I was given my visa, even though it was after midnight. But that's the point. I like airplane food. I don't usually complain, so I'm irritated to find myself in this unusual position where I am.
Tomorrow evening I will bid winter adieu. In what is becoming my annual escape from snow, salt stains and slush, I will board a plane that will take me first to Amsterdam, then to Nairobi. The final leg will deposit me south of the equator in Bujumbura, Burundi. I will land just after midnight on the second to last night of the decade and will spend the next two weeks producing a story about Village Health Works, an innovative health clinic that is providing more than health services to the community.
While the United States, one of the world's richest nations is debating how to reform health care, I travel to Kigutu, two hours south of Burundi's capital to a hilltop overlooking Lake Tanganyika. There I will find out what lessons we can learn in one of the poorest nations.