A bit of an update

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Tanzania seems like a million years ago, I made friends with an immigration officer and a conservationist for the Jane Goodall Foundation (her park was right near by but with exorbitant entry fees) and stayed in a guest house populated mainly by congolese refugees. I ate at a restaurant decorated like "Mexico" for no apparent reason (they made no pretense to offering Mexican food). Having been kicked out of my guesthouse for staying past checkout time I lolled the afternoon away on the open "Mexican" patio. I had been told the previous day that a boat would leave at 18 hours and I was to report back at the dock at 16. Walking to the dock at 16:00 an elderly man greeted me, "Bonjour!" I stopped in my tracks, too confused (as usual) to think of the appropriate response in time. At the docks, I was informed, once again, after visiting 6 different offices, that the boat would actually not be leaving for a few days. The man in the main office was unhelpful at best in recommending an alternative mode of transport but that did not prevent him from inviting me home. I declined and wandered back to my guesthouse to bashfully rebook my room. After a roughly 6km walk I found an elderly gas-station attendant who spoke perfect english and was delighted to explain to me, step-by-step, how to get to Bujumbura by public transport. I arrived the next day in the afternoon and found myself in the company of a decidedly youthful Burundian man who makes it a habit to introduce Westerners to the beauty of Burundi and an Australian woman who had just crossed from West Africa by way of the Congo. The Aussie and I shared a bed and we stayed up late swapping stories and comparing bug-bites. Burundi was an 8 day legacy of 750ml beer (thats how they make the bottles) and goat on a stick. I went shopping with an African queen and drank large mugs of fresh milk while beating off droves of flies and pointedly ignoring the continual mad-men who apparently felt some strange affinity with white people (because we are social outsiders or perhaps we simply give off a more compassionate vibe?). I convinced a middle-aged man that women's liberation would be good for the economy and watched his yopung 20-something son balk in horror. It was a strange stay in all. Not quite tourism, I walked through a week in my cheerful guide's life and learned a lot about how very much the same different parts of Africa can be despite their obvious dissimilarities.

And then there is Rwanda. Despite the chaotic lanscape of endlessly changing altitudes, Rwanda is basically a striped country. Its rolling hills have been transformed into the most insanely efficient farm land I've ever seen, every inch is terraced, creating an odd picture of stripes everywhere you look. There is no trash on the street, plastic bags have been outlawed, there is no yelling, or even eating, in public. The roads are beautifully paves with freshly painted lines. The men on motor bikes wear helmets, people obey traffic laws, everyone on the bus gets their own seat. Its slightly disorienting. In the smaller towns, instead of running up to touch my hair, locals keeps their distance, tittering nervously at private jokes amongst themselves (whisper whisper mzungu whisper). Things in Rwanda are annoyingly the same price as in Burundi despite the fact that the currency holds twice the value.

In Kigali I go to see the memorial, everyone tells me to take the motorbikes (the most available form of taxi). I, strangely, still valuing my life more than my time, opt for the bus instead. It takes me only half way and I walk up a steep hill with a Rwandan woman directing me on every mistake, "Walk on the other side of the road!" "Don't go that way!" I enter (the correct way with much tsking) to be pat down with a metal detector (why?). I find gardens, empty of people but full of birds, a different species on every branch, in every direction. All the birds in the city seem to have flocked to that spot. Where is the memorial? Not sure. But I'm impressed enough with the birds. I wish I had a bird guide, instead I just sit and listen. I realize finally that what I though were unfinished patios are actually unmarked mass graves.

Inside a museum details a very biased history of the Rwandan genocide (it's all the French's fault). To offer perspective a second floor gives a brief account of different genocides throughout history (actually a well done exhibit). I decide to walk back to town, this is apparently not done (by white people at least). The center of Kigali is at the top of a very steep hill...people giggle more than usual, I am sure I turn bright red, I attract a few followers, I am apparently a freak of nature. Once in town I spot what appears to be a pelican soaring through the air. I follow it to where it lands at the top of a very tall tree with three other gigantic pelican type things. I buy croissants. They are delicious...real croissants.

I am way behind on this blog...don't feel like catching up...even though its all written in another book. I spent about two and a half weeks in Rwanda, its a tiny country, and because of the paved roads, easy to travel, I saw most of the country. Spent a night in a gorgeous rain-forest (the whole country apparently was once rain forest but now, as mentioned, it is all efficient farm land) which was unfortunately ridiculously expensive. Stayed at a couple catholic churches in various pretty little towns. Went to see the Gorillas, also ridiculously expensive but an amazing experience, so I suppose it was worth the money. Now I am in Uganda.....hopefully Ill manage a more detailed entry later.

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