“Bienvenue a Gisenyi”

Le 1 octobre I arrived in Gisenyi this afternoon after quite a journey. Gisenyi on the Western side of Rwanda on Lake Kivu, sharing the waterfront with the Congo, which starts just beyond the edge the city. Waking up in Kigali this morning, I wasn’t sure exactly what the day would bring, but I surely didn’t expect the intro to Rwanda that I did. First off, I had no idea what Sr. Rose had meant last night when she said we’d be taking a “taxi” to Gisenyi. I guess I need to start taking things in context. I’m in Africa. After much chaos making it to the bureau of Virunga Express without hitting any pedestrians (they hold no regard for vehicles whatsoever), a young man carried my United Airlines-deemed “heavy” bags to where we would be catching this “taxi.” He swiftly hoisted one (61 lb) bag onto his head, holding it in place with his left hand, and rolled the second (65 lb) behind him. This is one of my first observations about Rwanda – the people, men and women alike, are capable of carrying anything on their heads. Bushels of bananas, bunches of sugarcane, you name it. The more obscure the better – I saw one man today carrying FOUR mattresses on his head, and I don’t even think he was holding onto them. For some reason, I had thought this tradition mythical, and only utilized by the cartoon woman on the stickers for Chiquita bananas. Unbelievable. Want more of a challenge? Tie your bumbling baby onto your back first. And here I thought I was doing the world a favor by having my overweight luggage on wheels. As we make it to the small parking area where we’re to wait for what I now realize will be a bus, I see utter disarray. Maybe that’s just my take on the scene, however, as this is only my first full day in Rwanda. Chauffeurs are running this way and that selling tickets to passengers (as it is a Friday, many others have luggage as well) who are merely waiting around for busses. There are two types of busses – ones with space for luggage and ones without. We had to wait for the next bus. A bus that is ill-equiped for my excess is parked near Sr. Rose and me, and I watch as young men try to sell sweets, juice and water, wallets and belts to those seated on the bus directly through the windows. Also, I witnessed more than a dozen near-death experiences, where the “taxis” were backing into and out of spots with little regard for walls or lives . Somehow, as this seems to be the disorderly order of things, no harm was done, but I was in awe of the reckless yet incredible driving of the chauffeurs. And we haven’t even gotten onto the taxi. To make a long story short (and this part of the story was 3 hours in total, stopping VERY briefly each hour. “Brief” = if you’re not on the bus in 2 minutes when the driver decides to leave, find a new ride.), there were windy, mountainous roads with pedestrians walking here, there and anywhere, and it’s okay to overtake other vehicles on the road. Reminded me of the trip from Montego Bay to Kingston last year. Visualize this: two lane road, steep incline to the right and valley to the right – very few barriers . Add to this the car ahead of you that isn’t going quite fast enough and must be passed. No cars coming in the opposite direction? Honk to let the car know you’re passing and go for it. The same goes for people walking on or near the road – honk to let them know you’re coming. Or should I say “you can’t blame me if I hit you?” All in all it truly wasn’t too bad. I was enthralled by the first-hand portrait of the country as it whipped by. This place truly is the Land of a Thousand Hills – there are NO flat tracts of land. More than that, the Rwandan people have mastered the arts of living on and farming on the often-steep terrain. (I truly wish I could have taken pictures to portray this, but this would not have been a great idea.) So many people were travelling the roads, most with bushels full of goods. Some even used their bikes to help them get there faster. Others loaded up their bikes and merely pushed from alongside, as a quicker means to transport big loads. Another thing about Rwandan people – THEY ARE MASTERS OF THE BICYCLE. Riding a bike with a dozen long rods of sugarcane on top of his head or a second adult sitting on back, you name it. Again, that’s along these busy roads with all sorts of vehicles zipping by. The police are few on the highway, and only when they are present do drivers abide by the speed limit. A few quite notes I’d jotted down after I’d arrived in Gisenyi this afternoon: -I’m “muzungu” – a white person. And besides a European couple I’d seen walking along in Kigali, I’m IT. - the air is dry, further enabling my addiction to chapstick. And to my nalgene. - the volcano near Gisenyi? It’s MASSIVE. First one I’ve seen in real life. - there’s a papaya tree out my window -I’m SO GLAD I packed my toiletries like I have OCD, because otherwise I would be in big trouble. -Also? Homeland Security apparently checked my bag at some point before I left the country. I found a “we checked your bag” slip in one of my bags. Relieved they didn’t take my lifetime supply of cinnamon Trident. - there’s a rooster that lives here. Maybe two. They happen to reside in the area by my window and their internal clocks are not so good. (I hear them now and it’s 11 at night.)