Weekend in Kibuye

Wow. I have been here over a month now, and it seems like my time left is so short. I knew this would happen, but it’s still disappointing. I want to stay forever! Well, actually not, but sometimes it really feels that way. Before I left, I freaked out when I saw the pile of malaria pills, one for every day that I’m here, because it seemed like so many. But yesterday I made a list of all the things I want to do that have to be done on weekends, like trips to other cities and to a national park, and there are the same number of things as there are weekends left! So, I am trying to still do lots of things but also not be stressed out about it, and at the same time being sure to invest in my relationships with the women at work and the family I’m staying with. I haven’t written in a while, because I’ve been really busy, but that means there is a lot to catch up on. We will start with the now-infamous weekend at Lake Kivu.

It was amazing, at least for the first day. Kirsten and I took the bus, which was an experience. They are buses the same size as the ones in town, which fit 18 people. Except that everyone had bags because they were going for the weekend, and there is nowhere to put them besides your lap. So, we got in, and made sure to get a seat by the window because air circulation is key on 3-hour trips in close quarters like that. And we were pleasantly surprised to find that the bus wasn’t packed to its usual capacity. Maybe they don’t fill them as full on these long trips so that we will have more room? Oh, silly innocent white girls. No, there was another stop at another bus station before leaving Kigali. As it turns out, to make it really worth their while, on the long trips, they pack you in even more. Yes, there were 21 of us on this bus, 5 across in our row (why only us??) and it is at this moment, when we’re discreetly trying to count the number of people (it currently holds the record) that we discover that our window is the only one that doesn’t open. Deep breath, okay. It was funny more that anything else, except the last hour of the trip which is the most excruciatingly winding road I have ever been on. Imagine Portland to the coast stretched and contorted, going way too fast, on roads only wide enough for one car, but miraculously allowing cars, buses, huge trucks, cows, bicycles, motos, and tiny children to pass simultaneously. It was actually pretty amazing. There is definitely order in chaos, this was proof.

But we got there, no one died, and no one was carsick, which are really the goals on any journey like this. And when we got into Kibuye, we were wondering how to get to our guest house (no taxis) or even where it was (no planning ahead…) when a really nice girl saw our helplessness and offered us a lift. She spoke French, and she and her boyfriend even came to translate our check-in procedure. So we got to our room, which was AMAZING in every way (as in super comfy, came with mosquito nets, had HOT WATER, and looked directly out onto a beautiful porch sitting area and the most amazing view of the lake.) All for $20 a night. I love this place. We went down to the restaurant to get some food, and as we were walking by the tables I heard a group of girls speaking Québecois French. We went over to say hi, and it turns out that some of them go to my university! It took us an hour of conversation to realize that two of them are friends of two of my friends in Montreal, who separately put me in touch with people they knew who would be in Rwanda this summer, and who I had forgotten about completely until sending them an email the day before, which they had not even received yet. Amazing coincidence. They are here with Québec Sans Frontières (Quebec Without Borders) and are staying in villages outside of Gitarama. So, we ate with them and had a great time, and Saturday they invited us to go on with them to some islands on the lake, via a very sketchy boat that definitely had holes in the bottom. But hey, we’re still alive! We hiked, were swarmed by thousands of bats, swam, had genius tropical fruit and ordered some goat kabobs for lunch. From now on, when I see animals that are possible food sources, I will take care not to develop personal relationships with them right around lunchtime. But there was this cute goat that we said hi to when we got to the island. But when it was time to order lunch, we had pretty much forgotten about it, until we saw the guy who took our order go untie it, and shout something to his buddy, who left, reappeared with a machete, and took the goat to the other side of the island. About an hour later, he reappeared with some kabobs and lit a fire. We were obviously a bit surprised at the whole affair, but after the goat had sacrificed himself to feed us, it would be really insulting not to eat it, right? And they were definitely the best kebabs I’ve had this whole trip. The non-vegetarian thing is really working out well. Later we were sitting with our chairs partly in the water, enjoying island paradise with a cold beer, when Kirsten come over and says “Um, guys, I just threw up. A lot. I think I need to go back.”

Stranded on an island inhabited only by the guy who slaughtered our goat is not really the place you want to discover that someone has food poisoning. Luckily the boat was docked and everyone else was thinking about leaving soon anyway, so we left and she made it back to the guest house. She went back to the room, and I hung out with les québecoises, and the following morning Kirsten’s host family sent their driver to come get us. The bus ride back would have pretty much been impossible. She is staying with an American family here, and this was one of the circumstances that made us remember that sometimes, that’s really a good thing. (They also have a washing machine, which I might use at some point…)

So, right before we got in the car to come home, my stomach started feeling a bit interesting as well. But I just made myself wait until we got home before I allowed myself to feel sick. The ride was going okay, we were taking the curves pretty well, until we ran into someone’s face. Seriously, a woman was walking down the street, and our mirror smacked her in the face. I didn’t really see it happen, I just saw the mirror collapse inward (thank god they are made to do that!) and then a bunch of people gathered around and made the driver stop the car. Now, I see accidents a lot here, which is to be expected when the rules are taken lightly at best and so many types of traffic share the roads. Generally I think it is assumed that if you get hit, you’re the idiot for not getting out of the way. But, when you’re in a car, and you hit a pedestrian, even if she was walking in traffic (which she was) you can’t help but feel responsible. So Kirsten and I were really concerned, and a bit rattled. But the lady walked over to the car, she wasn’t bleeding, and we took her to the clinic and gave her some money. I guess that’s just how people deal with things like that here, although I still think about it and wonder if there wasn’t something else we should have done. I really hope she is okay. We made it back okay, and that’s the end of the weekend.