Kigali Weekend

On Saturday, we finally got out of the house around 3 and taxied down the hill on bikes for 100RWF, or about 15₵.  I couldn’t believe how cheap that was, though it’s not far and it’s downhill.  Laura and I climbed into a 14-passenger van labeled “Excel Tours” to Kigali.  I was smushed on a seat with three other adults, one of them holding a cute baby, with my butt falling into the crack between the real seat and the fold-down seat.  It cost us about $1 for the 40-minute ride.  I was surprised at how, as we got in toward the city, passengers would knock hard on the ceiling and yell something to the driver, then we’d pull over, and the person would climb out.  I had no idea where we were getting off.  Luckily, I had Laura, and it turned out to be easily identifiable--the place where there were lots of these van things. 

We hadn’t walked far before we met Emmanuel, a friend of Laura’s who was involved with a project connecting Maranyundo students to tutoring students at another school in Nyamata.  Emmanuel, it turns out, is studying to be a dentist, which requires a four-year bachelor’s degree.  After he completes it, he will go where the government sends him.  In this developing nation, the president has a lot of control over what’s happening in the country.  This might be a good thing; after all, Rwanda’s rate of development is apparently quite remarkable. 

Emmanuel helped me bargain for a phone charger (about $2!), then led us to the fabric market to find the perfect print for Laura.  I bought two more, but saw just so many beautiful ones, it left my head spinning.  As it began to rain, Laura and I checked ourselves into the Sky Hotel, listed as “budget” in our guidebook .  Our room had crazy shiny green bedspreads, “bonus flip flops” on the floor, and like most Rwandan spaces, uncarpeted floor (this was tiled), and a crazy beautiful view of settlement in the valley around Kigali.  When we came back after dinner, buffet-style with hot tea to warm our wet bodies, we found that the rainwater had flooded in from the balcony onto the floor.  There was just nothing to block it, with the open balcony designed like a tub and the door an inch from the floor.  We transferred rooms, not because of the water, but because the balcony door wouldn’t stay closed in the wind.  We retired to a much bigger room with blue sheets, a busted television cord, and a bathroom featuring a creepy window out to the rest of the room.  The shower stayed hot for about two thirds of my shower before the water cut off completely for a few disappointing soapy minutes, then went cold. 

When they say developing nation, they aren’t messing around.  What struck me was how sad it seemed.  I gave the people the benefit of the doubt that they wanted to provide a quality experience.   There is just not adequate infrastructure or money to sustain reliable plumbing or replace broken appliances. 

This morning, we had a very weird breakfast in the basement of our hotel room.  They keep lights mostly off during the day, but this room was dim enough, even with the windows out to the below-ground courtyard,  that there were several chandeliers with one lit fluorescent bulb.  I ordered “African tea” which turns out to be mostly gingery whole milk in thick thick curdles.  There was also some flat egg (omeletlike but plain) and bread shaped like hotdog rolls.  From next door, we could hear singing and shouting, which we figured was a church service.  Weirdly, "Iron Will" was on the tv. 

We walked south along the road (Ave de Justicia) into the colorful shopsy district, Nyamarambo.  I took some pictures of the mosque.  We also walked by the Kigali Health and Tech Institites, the Russian embassy, and the pres res.  We went into the memorial site for the Belgian soldiers who were defending the prime minister when all of them were assassinated in 1994 at the beginning of the genocide, in the hopes that the UN would pull out.  It worked.  The memorial was the stark buildings full of bullet holes and a bulletin board where the soldiers’ families had written their lamentations.  

We found our way eventually to the crafts market.  CRAFTS!!!  There were tons of merchants in the coop, representing tons more.  I bought a ton of cards, a bowl, salad tongs, some jewelry.  After purchasing a couple of things from a man named Jean Baptiste, I asked him which items were his, and he showed me the wood carvings, which I had not noticed.  They are stylized, expressive, and made of a sturdy olive wood.  I told him about Joseph’s, Mom’s store, which had sold statues from Italy and Spain.  The blessed mother statues struck me as especially beautiful, and I chose one to take with me.  As we talked, Jean Baptiste showed me an email he had received from a man in the US who had purchased a few nativity sets a few weeks back.  The man was missing a couple of pieces, but international post is ridiculously expensive.  Jean Baptiste asked me to take the pieces home with me and mail them to Virginia.  I accepted, feeling incredibly lucky to be a part of this international mission.

We grabbed lunch, some Indian aloo something burgers, where we were surrounded somehow by Musungus (white/rich people).  It’s funny how I sometimes feel like it’s cheating to be around people of my own culture, like that’s not the real Rwanda experience.  Other times I watch three episodes of Friends in an evening.

We ran into Bienvenue, Nathan, and Andrew on our way back home, stopped for a drink (that’s what you do!)

We got back just about in time for the storm.  It rained and rained and rained.  What Laura calls “the stupid bugs” were out IN FORCE.  They come up from termite mounds, flutter about frenetically, often into the mouths of geckos or into human beings, then eventually land, shed their wings, walk a little more, and promptly die.  I didn’t believe it, but two came in as we were watching tv on the couch, then two more, then two more, moving down the hall.  Ick.  I lowered the princess canopies and tried to shoo them out of the bedrooms.  I think there were about 20 of them dead when all was said and done.