At the end of the week, we left my town for Musanze, situated amongst the volcanoes of northern Rwanda, which necessitates passing through Kigali. Since that day was umuganda (nation-wide community service work that occurs on the last Saturday of each month), no buses were running in the morning. Fortunately, a very kind friend of mine in Nyagatare has a car and was willing to drive us to Kigali. As a thank-you, we took him to lunch at Mille Collines, one of the few places open during umuganda, where we ate at the poolside restaurant. Despite one of the most Western people I’ve met here, he was a bit confused by the strange muzungu food on the menu – like teriyaki chicken, lasagna, and pasta alfredo. He settled on a ham and cheese panini, which was not exactly his favorite food, but we all decided it was good practice for when he goes to the US (which I’m sure he will) and has to eat muzungu food all the time. After lunch, we boarded a bus bound for Musanze, and met a Marine stationed in Djibouti, who had come to Rwanda specifically to go gorilla tracking. While waiting at the bus park and riding on the bus, he made balloon animals for the kids, which was random and funny. Even more unlikely, he later told us that his wife is from Great Falls. It’s a small world.
Once in Musanze, we checked into Hotel Muhabura, a small hotel where Dian Fossey (of the book and movie Gorillas in the Mist) once lived. While in town, we had a chance to visit one of my favorite restaurants in Rwanda. The Volcana Lodge is a cozy pizzeria with some of the best pizza I’ve had in Rwanda, and it even has a fireplace!
We started the next day bright and early, with a 5:30am breakfast at the hotel. Then, we headed to the headquarters of Volcanoes National Park. The hotel’s driver took us to the meeting point for gorilla tracking, where we, along with a fellow Volunteer and her mother (who happened to be visiting at the same time), joined up with three other girls (one of whom I’m pretty sure this post was written about) and a guide. From there, we drove another 45 minutes down the worst road I have ever been on in my life, until we reached a small village near the edge of the park that “our” group of gorillas was closest to that day. We walked about 30 minutes to the park entrance, which was basically just a little rock wall with a makeshift step ladder allowing people to climb over it. By that point, it was already raining, and we had no idea how far we still were from the gorillas. We spent the next 2.5 hours or so climbing, slipping, and sliding through the rain and mud, up and down mountains, often seemingly dangerously close to the edge of cliffs. Because there was no path during much of the hike, one of the guides went in front of us, chopping through the brush with a machete. Every single person fell down multiple times – actually, at times, it was literally too slippery to stand up, and the only option was to somehow slide or crawl. We were all completely covered in mud within about an hour.
Just when we were beginning to think that maybe there weren’t any gorillas, we rounded a curve, and there they were. Just a few feet from us, lounging peacefully amongst the bushes, eating grass. We just watched them, observing the giant silverbacks and adorable babies, for about the next 45 minutes. They were extremely calm – other than that one would get up, run around a bit, yell, and beat its chest every little while – and seemed totally unfazed by humans.
We didn’t want to leave the gorillas, but it was soon time to start the trek out. Going out seemed somewhat easier than coming in, though that may have been largely because we were just so used to being wet and muddy that we didn’t really notice anymore. About 2.5 hours later, we stumbled, exhausted and filthy, out of the forest – and into a small village full of people waiting to watch us. Naturally. I don’t know why one of those people hasn’t opened up a tea shop, because I would gladly have shelled out about 3,000F ($5) for a cup of icyayi and a piece of chapatti (the normal price being 200F, or about $0.33). But, alas, we had to wait out the hour or so ride back to town. The hotel staff was surprisingly unfazed by the pack of filthy bazungu and, being amazingly kind, offered to wash our muddy clothes and let us order tea to be delivered to the room. A couple cups of icyayi, a hand-held shower, and a change of clothes later, and we felt almost like real people again. Tired, sore, and blistered real people, but it was a definite improvement. Then, we headed across the street for dinner at Musanze’s Hotel Gorilla, the nicest place in town. An early dinner of cheesy pasta, and we called it a night. What a great day!
The following morning, after a brief stop at a craft workshop, we hopped on another Virunga Ponctuel and headed west. After about an hour of winding through the mountains, we arrived at the lakefront town of Gisenyi. Situated on the shores of Lake Kivu, Gisenyi has Rwanda’s only beach (though I guess some people would say it’s not much of one). Because Gisenyi borders the Congo and is basically attached to the Congolese city of Goma (famous in the media for rape and conflict minerals), Gisenyi is something of a commercial hub. We spent the afternoon exploring the town, checking out the border crossing, shopping, and finally having a delicious pizza dinner with a fellow Volunteer who lives in Gisenyi.
The next day started with yet another delicious breakfast buffet, followed by a little relaxation by the pool. Then, the driver from New Dawn Associates arrived, ready to take us on a tour of a nearby coffee plantation and cooperative. We drove about an hour out of the city, into what felt like the middle of nowhere. The aptly named “From Crop to Cup” tour showed us every step of the very long and labor-intensive (and low-paying – most of the farmers and workers make $1/day or less) system of processing coffee. We started at a coffee farm, where we chatted with the farmers, and they taught us how to pick coffee cherries (unprocessed coffee looks nothing like what we would recognize as coffee – it grows in red, yellow, and green marble-sized cherries). From there, we went to the washing station, where the skins of the cherries are removed, and the beans are washed and sorted. It’s not until the skins come off that they actually begin to look like coffee beans. After the washing station, the beans have to be dried in the sun. Then come the final stages of the process – another papery skin is removed, and the beans can finally be roasted and ground. The tour ended with a cup of fresh, delicious coffee. After purchasing some bags of coffee beans – 2,000F ($3.33) for 500g – to take home, we made our way back to where we’d left the car (on the other side of a bridge not fit for a car) and headed back to town.
We spent the rest of the afternoon pampering ourselves at the Serena, laying on the beach, and eating at the poolside bar. We also met an interesting older British fellow, who lives in a fancy apartment complex next to Hotel Laico in Kigali, but comes to Gisenyi regularly for work. He claimed to work “in minerals,” which made me wonder if whatever he does is either straight-up illegal or at least somewhat suspect.
The next day, we headed back into Kigali, where we did some last-minute shopping, including some craft purchases at the Kimironko Market, Rwanda’s largest. Kimironko really intimidates a lot of visiting parents, I think, but, after Mom’s experience at the much more intimidating Marche Sandaga in Dakar, it didn’t faze her. We spent that night at Chez Lando, an oasis in the middle of Kigali. The following afternoon, after a final smoothie at Bourbon, I dropped Mom off at the airport, so she could begin the 42-hour trip, via Amsterdam, back home. And I returned to my real Rwandan life.
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