Kigali

Kigali Traffic - Gerry Ellis

[GMT +2 Rwandan time]

I have just had the most amazing day!

Lots of strange little experiences, starting with seeing a large eagle close-range this morning. We were sitting around outside the training room during a break from Kinyerwanda. It just landed in the middle of the grass and started eating an avocado that had fallen off one of the trees. Beautiful.

The day really began at around half-one, though. We had a free afternoon so that those who had travelled in from other parts of Rwanda could catch up on shopping and admin in Kigali. One of the other volunteers, Joe (from Southern Ireland) let me tag along with him for my first outing outside the walls of Guest House Amani, where we do all of our in-country training, situated in Kicukiro, a suburb.

We began by getting a lift into town with Amanda (Disability/my Co-ordinator) in the van with some of the other volunteers, and went to the VSO office via what is apparently likely to be my house! I only saw the roof over the wall, and can’t get too excited because the contract is apparently only just on its way, but it is amazing – very unusual roof.

I had a brief tour of the VSO office and resource library, then followed Joe to the bus stop. Buses here are tiny little mini-vans, and you have to ask where they are going. Mamuji means ‘the centre,’ so we asked that and then squeezed (literally) onto the back seat. You really had to clamber over people to get one.

It’s a very intimate experience.

So, we trundled into town through amazing scenery. Even Kigali is very green, and the roads are red earth. Rolling hills surround you. All the roads meander up and around the hills, so it’s hard to know exactly where you are, but it doesn’t really matter so you just enjoy it.

Joe had a few things to do, which was good because I got to see the important places. We went to the bank, which was a small room with lots of chairs in rows. There’s no formal queuing system, so you just leap up when a desk becomes free.

We also went to the Post Office. It costs a fortune to post things home, and there was barely enough room on the envelopes for all the stamps! 

Then we walked all around town and, although I’m not certain where anything is still (lots of streets in crazy directions), it was one hell of an experience. Very busy town and, for the most part, we were the only white faces. I was glad to have Joe there. People come up offering goods all he time, or sometimes asking for money (the children), and they sort of honed in on him rather than me. Not in a forceful way, most of them laugh and smile. There’s a really nice atmosphere to the place, feels warm and safe, just overwhelmingly busy to begin with. 

I’m also not sure how well I’ll cope with bartering. You have to barter for everything and, because you’re white, they try and charge double the price. Joe’s brilliant at it, so confident and relaxed, but I don’t relish the opportunity to try myself yet. 

I almost had my first offer of marriage, too! Joe was buying a bag and someone asked him if I was looking for a husband. Apparently this is really common and you do get a lot of attention as a muzungu female. 

We were buying things at the Chinese Shop, the nearest thing to a department store. By this time we’d met-up with Martina (French, but living in Edinburgh) who is absolutely lovely, and they were paying for things at the counter. I was resting my hand on the side of a shopping basket, also by the counter, and the guy behind the check-out reached over and touched my hand. When I looked, he gave me a massive smile. It was impossible not to smile back. It’s slightly shocking at first, how tactile people are, and the whole personal-space thing doesn’t count for much. But everyone’s so friendly and so happy to say hello that it’s impossible to feel bad about it. The reaction you get from just a few words of Kinyerwanda is amazing, people love it.

We walked around town until it got dark. There are no street lights, and the sun sets at 6pm. It is pitch black and gets a bit hairy because all the vans, lorries, buses and motorbikes (motos) go zooming past, and all the pedestrians (who you can’t see) wander in the roads. There aren’t any pavements exactly, all broken, uneven paths with occasional massive holes down into the drains! You have to be so careful.

We went to the bus station, but it was heaving, and no-one was going to Kicukiro, so we opted for taking motos. I was a bit nervous because, other than a long time ago with Merrick, I’d not been on a motorbike. Certainly not somewhere as traffic-heavy as this. Martina made sure my helmet was on safely, and Joe told the driver to take it easy (in Kinyerwanda) and off we went. 

This is the main form of cheap transport in Rwanda. Buses are extremely cheap – it only cost us RWF100 to get all the way into town (equivalent of about 10p). The motos took us to our door for RWF700/70p - Joe and Martina thought that was expensive! 

Another useful phrase: 

Atari igiciro cy’umuzungo
"Not the price for whites" or "I don’t want white people’s prices" 

What an experience, though. I honestly felt really safe. I had a brilliant driver and even getting out of town wasn’t too bad – I think I just removed myself from it. Again, a very intimate form of transport, but seriously good fun when we got onto the main roads. 

The only sad thing was that, halfway home, we got stuck in traffic. Eventually my driver mounted the curb and went around it on the pavement. As we passed, we saw a man in the middle of the road. There had been a minibus crash, and this man was in a seriously bad way. He was totally still except for his right foot, which was twitching. There were about five people around him, the traffic building up. I couldn’t believe it when the five people picked the man up and carried him off onto the grass! Traffic seemed to take priority over the injured. No attempt to close the road, or worrying about head/neck injuries. I hope he was alright, but it didn’t look hopeful. Martina and Joe said that was unlucky and they hadn’t seen an accident in the time they’d been here.

Things got progressively more surreal after dinner, when Martina explained that it was Scottish Dancing Day and used the projector to play dancing lessons and music. A small but enthusiastic bunch of us learned how to dance the Gay Gordon, then descended into a bunch of random steps we made up before collapsing in a heap, laughing. It was very random, but a lot of fun.

Afterwards, Joe, Paula (Northern Ireland) and myself, escaped up the road to the pub and finished the day with a very chilled-out drink. Only, when we returned, the guard had gone to sleep and we had to bang and shout until one of the other volunteers came and managed to find him! Funny end to a funny day.

[NB 2013: This is a particularly special post because it documents the first time I ever met Martine (not Martina, as I first thought). Martine remains, to this day, one of my closest friends. I can't imagine life without knowing her.]