Le 2 janvier Here in Rwanda, it costs 2800RWF (roughly $5) for a bus ticket from Gisenyi to Kigali. The trip is three-and-a-half to four hours long, and therefore that’s quite a bargain. I think I pay about $12.50 just for the commuter rail into Boston.
But we’re not riding coach busses. Some busses are nicer than others (and that depends on both luck and the company you choose), but a few things are standard – being packed in shoulder-to-shoulder with complete strangers for a long bus ride with no bathroom break. Yes, we do stop momentarily two or three times along the way, but it’s only for 2 or 3 minutes and it’s to pick up/drop off passengers, and the one stop that you can buy a quick bite from. This means, of course, that (being my mother’s daughter) I refuse to drink liquids for the few hours before the trip and throughout the trip. For me, the girl always with a Nalgene, it’s pretty annoying.
Oh, and here’s the other thing – there are no aisles. When you first step onto the bus, you see a foot-wide path between the seats, but wait! As soon as the “real seats” fill up, the final passengers have to use the fold-down seat that takes up the space that would allow you to get up easily and stretch your legs during the brief pauses.
Yesterday, on a day-trip-to the Northern Province with Joselyne and Soso, we had limited options for transport on the way home. It was New Year’s Day, which is a national holiday here, so some services were not running. On the way home, we took Stella – one of the many, many bus companies in Rwanda.
Imagine for a moment the ugly yellow VW van the Hoover family drives in Little Miss Sunshine. Okay, it’s a bit smaller, but add, instead, a few more people and fold-down seats where there would be a bit of breathing room. I had the luck, too, of being the last on the van which meant that I was in charge of the door. And that meant that each person getting on also had to briefly stop and look to see if there really was a muzungu seated in this very African van.
There are no seatbelts, the seal along the sliding door next to me was dangling off, and our row of seats had even less leg space because there was an 8-inch rise in the floor. I also had the super sweet fold-away chair.
Still exhausted from a full night of dancing the night before, Jo, Soso and I tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible so that we might rest a while. Together, the three of us sat happily, on the bumpy, crowded trip back to Kigali. It’s pretty funny what you get used to.
But we’re not riding coach busses. Some busses are nicer than others (and that depends on both luck and the company you choose), but a few things are standard – being packed in shoulder-to-shoulder with complete strangers for a long bus ride with no bathroom break. Yes, we do stop momentarily two or three times along the way, but it’s only for 2 or 3 minutes and it’s to pick up/drop off passengers, and the one stop that you can buy a quick bite from. This means, of course, that (being my mother’s daughter) I refuse to drink liquids for the few hours before the trip and throughout the trip. For me, the girl always with a Nalgene, it’s pretty annoying.
Oh, and here’s the other thing – there are no aisles. When you first step onto the bus, you see a foot-wide path between the seats, but wait! As soon as the “real seats” fill up, the final passengers have to use the fold-down seat that takes up the space that would allow you to get up easily and stretch your legs during the brief pauses.
Yesterday, on a day-trip-to the Northern Province with Joselyne and Soso, we had limited options for transport on the way home. It was New Year’s Day, which is a national holiday here, so some services were not running. On the way home, we took Stella – one of the many, many bus companies in Rwanda.
Imagine for a moment the ugly yellow VW van the Hoover family drives in Little Miss Sunshine. Okay, it’s a bit smaller, but add, instead, a few more people and fold-down seats where there would be a bit of breathing room. I had the luck, too, of being the last on the van which meant that I was in charge of the door. And that meant that each person getting on also had to briefly stop and look to see if there really was a muzungu seated in this very African van.
There are no seatbelts, the seal along the sliding door next to me was dangling off, and our row of seats had even less leg space because there was an 8-inch rise in the floor. I also had the super sweet fold-away chair.
Still exhausted from a full night of dancing the night before, Jo, Soso and I tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible so that we might rest a while. Together, the three of us sat happily, on the bumpy, crowded trip back to Kigali. It’s pretty funny what you get used to.
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