Days in the country 6
Actual days riding 4
Distance ridden 390 miles (624km)
Despite
my desire to always turn up at a border looking respectable, I had yet again managed
to arrive at the border looking and feeling as if I’d slept in a ditch, which
as it happens I had.
The road
out of Tanzania had climbed steeply for miles and by the time I reached the border
I was completely out of water, felt awful and was cold, surprisingly cold.
This was
central Africa for heavens sake; it was supposed to be flaggingly hot, humid,
uncomfortable and home to a multitude of voracious things that lurked in the
impenetrable forest, this is where the gorillas lived, wasn’t it.
It should
have been a place where I could be surprised by the odd slightly bewildered explorer
crashing breathlessly out of the undergrowth shouting, “holy shit did you see
the size of that!”
But no, I
was bloody cold, had a tee shirt shoved into my cycling shorts as I had a boil
the size of a walnut in my groin, and had been climbing all day.
This was
certainly not what I had expected. I was at altitude, I was high up, and looking
across the border I could see the first Rwandan town I’d have to pass through
2000 feet above me, and not a gorilla or explorer in sight. Perhaps it was the
size of my crotch that had kept the gorillas at bay,
“ He’s a
big lad, better lie low, we don’t want to tangle with that” I could imagined
them saying.
The
border crossing went without a hitch; I had the usual “You’ve come from where?”
“On that bicycle?”
“Oh yeah, tell me another one,” type of response,
the view round these parts is that it is scientifically and probably physically
impossible to ride a bike further than the next village. Ride across countries,
you must be joking!
And so it
was that I left the customs area still smarting over the lack of gorillas and
explorers and was nearly killed.
“Hello, this
is more like it”, I thought. Only the reality wasn’t nearly as romantic as the notion of being
crushed to death by an infatuated gorilla, I was nearly run over by a bloody
taxi.
A taxi
closely followed by a truck then a bus and finally a bicycle. “What the hell is
going on here?” I though, as I continued to climb the ridiculously steep hill.
Rwanda,
what did I know about Rwanda? Not
a lot, apart from the fact that in the early nineties as a nation they had
fallen upon each other and had began slashing and hacking with such vigor and
enthusiasm that they had acquired membership of a group of countries that have
the sorry distinction of having committed genocide.
Having
survived this horror, one would have thought that just the mention of the word
conflict would have brought them out onto the streets in protest, but no, not
these guys.
They then
got involved in the Congo and sponsored an uprising that resulted in the death
of 5 million people.
Clearly
these were people you didn’t want to fuck with.
Given this
track record I had decided very early on in the game to be extremely careful
not to antagonize or piss any of them off, as this was serious form.
After having ridden on the wrong side of the road I realized that it fell, with out question into “the pissing off and
antagonizing” category. I was going to have to be far more observant and careful
in the future.
As I
passed through the various towns and villages on my way to the capital Kigali,
I was struck by how ordered and well maintained the place was. All along the
roads were proper houses, not huts or shacks, they all had fences or walls and
the majority had tended gardens, which was the first time I’d seen this since
South Africa.
In the
towns and villages the business areas consisted of well-constructed shops, the
streets were wide had streetlights and proper pavements.
This
country was very different to all the others I had visited.
As I rode
through a small neat and tidy town I passed a Primary school that was obviously
on break as all the children were out playing on the field.
Riding past and in an effort to make amends for riding on the wrong side of the road, I
waved, only to have the entire playground empty and start running down the road
after me, there must have been at least 300 kids.
It didn’t
take long to realize that if I didn’t do something quick, some of these kids
were going to get hurt, as there was a fair amount of traffic. And if that were
to happen it would definitely fall firmly into the “pissing off and
antagonizing” category, so I stopped and was immediately mobbed by a multitude
of small smiling kids.
“Good
morning, how are you?” they inquired.
‘A bit
surprised, I must admit, I was not expecting this type of reception”, I
replied.
“Good morning, how are you?” they
repeated.
“Yes,
good morning, I’m good, how are you guys?” I asked.
“Good
morning, how are you?” they all sang.
“Aaah, I
think I’m starting to get it,” I said.
“Good
morning, how are you?” they repeated.
“ A bit worried
about getting my arse pinned if anything happens to any of you little bastards,”
I said, watching the third taxi bowl through them.
“Good
morning, how are you?” they shouted in unison, really warming to this
conversation lark.
“Holy
shit!”
“ Good
Morn…..”
“Shut up,
are you all trying to get killed?” I shouted.
The whole
situation was getting completely out of hand, cars and bikes were forcing their
way through the crowd, it was absolute mayhem.
“ Hang
on, remember you’re the adult here, you need to sort this mess out,” A small
voice in my head said.
“Good
morning, how are you?” responded hundreds of beaming little faces.
“ Bugger
me!”
“ Come
on, back to school,” I shouted turning round and riding back towards the
school.
“ Good
morning, how are you?” came the enthusiastic reply.
The headmaster,
who had no doubt been wondering why things had gone so quiet, had ambled out to
investigate only to find, to his absolute horror, an empty playground.
You could
just imagine him pacing up and down scratching his head thinking, field trip,
are they all on a field trip, I would surely have remembered something like
that, wouldn’t I?
Field
trip!! This is sodding Africa we don’t do field trips, where the hell are they?
It was at
this point that like the pied piper, rather than leading his school away; I appeared
with his jubilant school in tow.
“I don’t
know how to fully explain what has happened here,” I blurted out to the pacing
Head Master.
“ Good
morning, how are you?” came the gleeful response.
“ Oh, for
fuck sake!” I exclaimed totally exasperated.
“ I beg
your pardon?” replied the
headmaster, his eyes widening……
This
happened frequently, for some reason these children liked running after whites
on bicycles, I dubbed it ‘The land of the running children’ and it wasn’t to
try and beg either.
When I
finally reached Kigali I was shocked and stunned. This was not what I was
expecting, it was not like any African city I’d ever seen, and I include South
Africa here. For a start it appeared to be almost brand new, there were large parks;
all the central reservations on the wide roads had well manicured gardens. The
traffic lights had big LED boards that counted down the seconds till the lights
changed, the cat’s-eyes on the roads were solar powered, yes solar powered so
they flashed at night. The buildings were all modern and well built; there was
mile after mile of brand new luxury housing estates of the standard that even our
spoiled premiership footballers would have had no issue living in. There were
huge shopping malls; all the international companies and banks were represented
there. There was every conceivable type of restaurant. There were more police
on duty than I’ve seen anywhere. It was an absolutely amazing place. I felt as
if I’d somehow landed on another planet.
I looked
for the cheapest hotel I could find, which was difficult as this was a very
expensive place. All the room rates are quoted in US dollars and not Rwandan
franks, which tells you something, the best I could find was $60 for a night,
so I checked in. The general standard of the service, food and the building was
world class. I was staggered. Apart from all of this, the biggest surprise was how
genuinely friendly everyone was. People were polite, helpful, and happy to go
out of their way for you. Another thing that struck me was just how attractive
a lot of their woman are, they are very fine featured and have a certain
bearing about them. Kigali is Africa’s best-kept secret.
I had
entered Rwanda from the East and was now headed North towards Uganda, Kigali is
in a huge valley so I was climbing again, the further away from the city I got
the more the place changed, it was becoming more and more like the Africa I
knew. By the time I was back in the clouds I was coming across villages of mud
huts, no wide streets here, I was without doubt back in Africa, these people
were desperately poor, they were no different from the rest of the subsistence
farmers on the continent. How could this be I wondered, how could you have a
place like Kigali and all the lovely towns and villages I’d passed in the East
in the same country as this? That evening I stopped at a lodge and I asked the
owner about the difference. This huge disparity was one of the main reasons for
the genocide he told me. He went on to say that these people who lived here
were starting to stir again as nothing had changed for them. When they looked
at the people in the towns and cities and saw how well they were doing, it was
making them very angry. Sobering thought.
Rwanda in
my mind has Africa’s friendliest people, it’s a great place, and my only hope
is that they manage to channel some of their success into the countryside. The
genocide of 1994 is deeply etched into the fabric of their society, and when
meeting you they never fail to mention it, always adding how great this peace
is. It’s a great place with great people, and virtually no begging.
Marks out of 10
A strong
9
Punctures
None!
Fantastic post. Had a good laugh.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the post m8. Sounds such an experience. Rwanda looks & sounds like a fantastic place.
ReplyDelete