Beach Time

Finally, my last post about the trip to Tanzania, and this one’s about the beach! (Read about Dar es Salaam, mountain trekking, Stone Town, and some day trips.)

During our time at the beach, we stayed in a village called Bwejuu (pronounced way-jhoo) on the east coast of Zanzibar. The ride across the island from Stone Town was very pretty, and lined with palm trees, though the small villages we passed were a world away from Stone Town.

With sand that was literally white and the most beautiful turquoise water I’ve ever seen, not to mention palm trees everywhere you look, arriving in Bwejuu felt like arriving in paradise. The hotel we stayed at, Musthapha’s Place, was just across the street from the beach and was definitely one of the coolest hotels I’ve ever stayed in. Mustapha’s was small, with just seven rooms in total and about as many tables in the open-air restaurant. The rooms surround a small courtyard, complete with a bonfire pit, hammocks, and wooden swings. The ground of the entire courtyard and restaurant area was sand, allowing us to go barefoot (something that’s illegal in Rwanda!). At Mustapha’s, each room is unique, and you can reserve a specific room. We chose the cozy treetop room, which was definitely the coolest option. The “building” was made entirely of tree branches, and was accessed by climbing up some narrow stairs to reach the door. We even had a small patio overlooking the courtyard. Including breakfast for two, the treetop room was $40/night and, like our other hotels in Tanzania, was a great value.

Bwejuu is a small village, the only establishments being a few other hotels similar to Mustapha’s. The calm nature of the village and the relative lack of other travelers gave us a nearly private beach and made staying in Bwejuu very relaxing.

Breakfast at Mustapha’s, like at our other hotels, was excellent. We ate each morning on the sand, feasting on omelets, chapatti, fresh fruit, and a different delicious fruit juice everyday. The only restaurants in Bwejuu were in the hotels, and the menus changed each day, always focusing, of course, on fresh seafood. There were also curries, pizzas, and pasta dishes, as well as desserts like chocolate pancakes and banana fritters, which was basically a delicious caramelized/glazed/sugar-crusted banana. The service at most of the restaurants was pretty slow, even by African standards, but the fantastic setting always made up for it.

On one of our days in Bwejuu, we went snorkeling at a nearby lagoon, and it was the first time snorkeling for both Ryan and me. We had a fun ride out to the lagoon on a very rickety wooden canoe, giving us a spectacular view of the coast. Once we reached the lagoon, snorkeling revealed a whole other world under the water. There was so much more below the surface than I was expecting, including tons of seaweed, coral, and other plants, and of course various colorful fish, the most memorable being the blue tang (ie, Dory from Finding Nemo).

After snorkeling, we headed away from the beach to take a walk through the village. Again, the ground was comprised entirely of sand, and palm trees were everywhere. The houses were mostly of decent standard, nicer than most houses in typical Rwandan villages, and the only other buildings were a few very small shops. The people we encountered were all very friendly, greeting us simply with “Hi, how are you?” and “Jambo!” I don’t think many visitors venture away from the beach at all, as many people assumed we were lost and seemed confused about why we would possibly be there. After explaining that we were just going for a walk and wanted to see the village, the responded with “Welcome” or “Enjoy,” and went about their business. Despite foreigners being a bit of a novelty in Bwejuu, nobody followed us, stared at us, or asked us for anything. It was so wonderful to be able to really enjoy experiencing a new place without being harassed to the extent that it wasn’t even worth being there. Also in contrary to Rwanda, the houses weren’t all walled in, and the greater openness and sense of community was obvious.

The following day, we rented bikes for $5 each and spent the day biking along the coast. It was absolutely beautiful, with palm trees lining the road and nearly deserted beaches every time we stopped. We saw a few other travelers during the ride, but most of the people we saw were locals, either walking, biking, or riding motos. As on mainland Tanzania, we also saw groups of Maasai on the side of the road, hard to miss in their traditional red robes. Once again, though there were few other foreigners to be seen, we were able to enjoy our ride in peace, with no hassle or scene; it was wonderful. We ended our ride in Jambiani, a village to the south of Bwejuu, and then turned back toward Paje, the main town on the east side of the island. We stopped at a really cool low-key resort called Paje By Night, which describes itself as “not only a resort, but also a lifestyle.” The restaurant menu there was full of amazing options – pizzas, pastas, burgers, sandwiches, hummus, smoothies! The neat thing about Paje By Night, though, was how laid-back it was. It was definitely a “no shirt, no shoes, no problem” type of place, with all different kinds of people just relaxing and hanging out, nobody passing judgment on anyone else. After living in a society that is so judgmental volunteers have compared Rwandans to the “plastics” in the movie Mean Girls, experiencing such a laid-back place left a strong impression on me.

Unfortunately, we had to say good-bye to Zanzibar the next day. To get back across the island to Stone Town, we took the local transportation option, a dalla-dalla, which is basically a flatbed truck with seats around the edge, and a makeshift roof. Watching the road out the open back of the truck reminded me a lot of riding a car rapide (only a more upscale version) and made me nostalgic, as I so often am, for Senegal.

After a horrendous seasickness-inducing ferry ride, we arrived back in Dar. We relished our last night in Tanzania exploring the city center again and enjoying more delicious street food. After heading for the Dar airport in the middle of the night for our 5:10am flight, we has a huge delay in Nairobi and a brief stop in Bujumbura, and then it was back to Rwanda for me.

Some Excursions from Stone Town

As I mentioned last time, Ryan and I took a few short trips from Stone Town, the first of which was to go on a spice tour. Famous for its spices, Zanzibar is nicknamed Spice Island, and spice tours are one of the most popular activities for visitors. We drove out of Stone Town into a much more rural area, and eventually found ourselves on a large plantation, full of all different kinds of plants. We saw numerous spices growing on their plants, including turmeric, cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, mint, pepper, vanilla, cocoa, and ginger. Turns out, most spices in their natural form bare no resemblance to what we would recognize. Turmeric, for example, looks like a carrot! Some of the smells were also surprising – cinnamon’s scent is extremely strong, and cocoa has no smell at all. We also got to taste several exotic fruits, including soursop, starfruit, and lychee. We also tasted cocoa, which, and I suppose this shouldn’t have been surprising given its scent, had no flavor whatsoever.

Later, we went on a dhow cruise off the coast of Stone Town and had a beautiful dinner on the beach. The boat ride was fun and relaxing, and offered great views of the coast and small nearby islands. We ended our cruise at the open-air restaurant of the Mtoni Marine Center, a hotel next to the Mtoni Palace ruins outside Stone Town. Not only were the food and atmosphere at Mtoni amazing, but, since our dinner was part of a package with the cruise, we were VIPs and the restaurant staff pretty much treated us like royalty. As our boat pulled up on the sand, the manager came out to the beach to meet us, and led us to our table – one that was out in front of the restaurant closer to the water, and had palm leaves surrounding it, holes in the sand with candles on them on each side, and flower petals strewn across it. The meal started with delicious bread served with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, followed by the chef’s special appetizer, seasoned avocado served on a basil leaf. Next were the appetizers. I ordered the most amazing-sounding salad I’ve seen in Africa: “Crispy garden salad of ruccola, lettuce, sweet bell peppers, avocado, tomato, cucumber, spring onions, roasted cashew nuts, coconut chips, croutons and fresh soft herbs with a Caesar dressing, prepared at your table.” The dressing was even better than regular Caesar dressing, and the salad was fabulous. Ryan had fresh spicy prawns, which he thought were great. We could have ended dinner right there, and I would have been completely satisfied. But there was more! For the main course, I had a goat cheese tartlet – a cheese and red onion filling inside a flaky crust. It was amazing. Ryan ordered a lobster and beef combo, and said the beef was the best he’s ever had. Finally, the desserts. Ryan’s was passionfruit crème brûlée, which was delicious, and mine was a triple chocolate combo, consisting of chocolate-brandy mousse, chocolate crème, and chocolate-hazelnut ice cream. While it was far too rich and chocolate-y to come close to finishing, each one was delicious. As a final touch, a taarab group performed around a fire throughout the evening. Mtoni served without a doubt the best food I’ve eaten since leaving the U.S., and I don’t think I’ve ever been to a restaurant with a nicer atmosphere in my life. It was exquisite.

Our last trip was to Nungwi, a beach on the north side of the island, to go parasailing. It was Ryan’s second time parasailing, but my first, and I didn’t really know what to expect. I thought it felt a lot like sitting in a big swing. And it turns out parasails go much, much higher than I would have imagined, which allowed for beautiful views of the island. See here for a much more eloquent description of parasailing at Nungwi from Mambo Magazine. After we had both sailed and ridden back to the coast, we spent some time enjoying the beautiful beach at Nungwi, which had the softest, whitest sand I’ve ever seen. Paradise!

One last post, about our time at the beach, is coming!

Stone Town (is awesome!)

Wow, that was a longer hiatus than intended. Regardless, the adventure continues in Stone Town, the main town on the island of Zanzibar.

After a two-hour ferry ride from Dar, we set foot on Zanzibar. Our hotel was approximately a five-minute walk from the port, but it took us, um, much longer to find it the first time, due to the fact that Stone Town is one of the most confusing and difficult-to-navigate places I have ever been. It’s comprised solely of short, narrow, winding streets, with no street names or numbers, and signs for businesses pointing only vaguely toward their actual location. At one point, as we were standing, confused, at an intersection of a few winding streets, a man asked is he could help. After we told him where we were going, he sent his daughter to lead us there.

Upon reaching the Pyramid Hotel, we were immediately excited about the cool architecture and extremely friendly staff. There aren’t a lot of truly budget options on Zanzibar, but the Pyramid – with its Zanzibari bed, hot shower, fan, free Internet, and toast at breakfast – was definitely worth $35/night for a double room.

By the time we were ready to head out to dinner, it was completely dark. We hadn’t noticed any nearby restaurants on our round-about walk to the hotel, so we had to head to a new part of town. We never did find the restaurant we’d been searching for, but ended up eating at another nice place, where I had my first of several vegetable curries, and Ryan had his first of too many seafood dishes.

We spent the following day exploring Stone Town, which is a really interesting and vibrant place. Like in Dar, there are people of all races and ethnicities, dressed in all different styles of clothes. Most Zanzibari women wear long gowns and headscarves, and a minority also wear veils. Some were in Western clothes, but still kept the headscarf. Many Muslim men there dress in long white robes and caps, but lots of others wear Western clothes. There were also groups of adorable schoolchildren everywhere we looked, young girls in headscarves and little boys in robes and caps.

We visited Stone Town’s main market and perused stalls selling dozens of different kinds of spices (Zanzibar is famous for its spices), and fresh fruits and vegetables. We opted to view the raw meat and seafood section from a distance, however.

While wandering around, we found the Zanzbiar Coffee House, where Ryan tried Zanzibar’s staple spiced coffee. We were also thrilled to see that the menu featured both crepes and samosas filled with SPINACH and FETA! They were both delicious, AND came served on banana leaves.

Courtesy of Ryan’s extremely generous mother, I was also able to indulge in a traditional Zanzibari spa treatment at the Mrembo Spa. The Singo body scrub is a popular beauty ritual on Zanzibar, and women normally go to a spa for one everyday in the week leading up to their wedding. It was basically an aromatherapy massage followed by a vigorous scrub – it felt wonderful and left my skin ridiculously soft!

We spent most of the rest of the afternoon shopping, and opportunities for shopping are plentiful in Stone Town. Shops selling jewelry, art, clothes, accessories, bath products, books, and souvenirs are everywhere. Shop owners, by now more than used to the presence of tourists, hassle passersby a bit, trying to entice them to come in, often “just for looking.” But, a pleasant surprise, it really wasn’t excessive, and most of the vendors were quite friendly. In the smaller shops, they were even willing to bargain the prices a bit, which is always nice.

After reading that the Zanzibar Serena had the best Swahili food in town, we decided to head there for dinner. The food was very good, but the real treat was the atmosphere. We ate on the terrace, with a view of the water and the dhows coming in. That evening, there was also a taraab performance, Zanzibar’s most popular traditional music.

The last thing I have to mention about Stone Town is the outdoor night market at Forodhani Gardens, a dinner hotspot catering largely to tourists but attracting some locals as well. The market consists of a few dozen tables offering kebabs of every type of seafood available, as well as snack foods such as samosas. You pick which sticks of seafood you want, and then the chef grills it in front of you. My mahi-mahi was excellent. Ryan’s octopus and mussels were…not – actually, he described them both as rubbery, the only difference being that the octopus was harder. But, at least he’s adventurous! The other main feature of the market is the Zanzibari pizza, which typically includes not only dough, cheese, vegetables, and ground beef, but also a piece of chapatti, an egg, and a dab of mayonnaise. There are also scrumptious dessert pizzas, made of chapatti, mango, banana, and Nutella.

Stone Town is a really neat place with very friendly people, and it reminded me a lot of all the best aspects of Senegal. Despite being a major travel destination, it was also much less overrun with tourists than I was expecting, which was wonderful.

Stay tuned for the excursions we took from Stone Town – a spice tour, a dhow cruise, the fanciest meal I’ve ever had in my life, and, lastly, parasailing!

Tanzanian Trekking

Day One

Early the following morning, we met up with our guide and walked through Lushoto and into the countryside. We spent the morning walking up and down hills, past rural villages, through valleys, and in and out of the rainforest. During some parts, we had views across sweeping valleys and of the villages and terraced farms on the next hills. Other areas were so thick with tropical plants and shrubs that we couldn’t see anything besides greenery in every direction and the narrow footpath that cut through it. We saw a few colobus monkeys, beautiful butterflies, and several chameleons, some of which were so well-camouflaged I could barely see them after our guide pointed them out – I can’t imagine how he spotted them in the first place! When we stopped in one village, our guide showed us a machine used to make sugar cane into beer. It requires two people to walk around in a circle pushing a big handle, while the middle of the machine squeezes the juice out of the sugar cane. Unfortunately, we didn't get to taste any (maybe that wasn't such a bad thing).

Later, we stopped for lunch, and simply sat down on the side of the path near a small bridge and took out our food. I literally cannot imagine the chaos that would ensue if bazungu did that in Rwanda. Probably, every single person within a half hour’s walking distance would come and encircle you to the point of claustrophobia, each person watching – scrutinizing – your every motion, until you finally became uncomfortable or annoyed and got up and left. But here, in Tanzania, we were able to sit down, relax, take in the fantastic setting, and enjoy simply greeting locals who passed by (and then continued on their way, rather than stopping to watch and ridicule). Our guide pulled out a bag of fresh vegetables and whipped up a delicious guacamole of avocado, onion, tomato, and carrot. We were getting really excited watching him make it, and become downright ecstatic when he pulled out a bag of chapatti. To top it off, he served the meal with flower-shaped chunks of cucumber. Mmm mmm.

After lunch, we continued our hike through the forest, eventually reaching a larger dirt road. By that point, it had become extremely cloudy and we initially thought it was starting to drizzle, until Ryan pointed out, “I don’t think it’s so much that it’s raining, as it is that we’re walking through a cloud.” We got a little wet, but it was pretty cool to be walking up the side of a hill, not able to see anything but the path below our feet and the plants immediately to either side.

Eventually a bus came by, and our guide flagged it down. We hopped on and rode down the curvy, bumpy road for about an hour, out of the rainforest and through the fields on the other side. Hopping off, we walked a few more minutes down into the village where we’d spend the night.

After warming up with some tea at the convent where we’re staying, we set out to explore the village and surrounding area. We walked past a soccer game going on and a group of school buildings (empty, as the schools were on vacation at the time) and into a grove of trees that felt like a very small Montana forest.

Back at the convent, we met a few other travelers from around the world, all with interesting stories – two Israeli girls traveling through Asia and Africa during a gap year between military service and university; a German girl interning at a hospital in Mwanza, Tanzania’s second-largest city; and, a French girl and her French-speaking Belgian boyfriend, who had quit their jobs to travel around the world for a year.

Day Two

We set out early the next morning to continue the trek, planning to make our way to Mtai, essentially the last village on the edge of a large cliff, and then back to Lushoto. We spent the morning hiking through wooded forests, across plantations, between villages, and in and out of the rainforest again. In one village, we visited a local pottery workshop, selling various bowls, jars, saucers, pots, and animal figurines, each piece at $1.30. We purchased a few pieces, and then headed back to the trail. Later, we stopped for lunch in a forested area, where the tall, bare tree trunks made great back rests. Our guide prepared guacamole and chapatti again, so we were thrilled. Shortly after lunch, another guide came and met us with a car to drive to Mtai.

Mtai was a really interesting little village, comprised of one long, narrow path with small buildings on either side and cliffs – and great views – just behind them. On the far edge of Mtai, the path from the interior of the mountains ends at a sharp cliff overlooking a vast, breathtaking view. The pictures I took really don’t do it justice, but we could see an enormous valley, including a couple of Tanzania’s national parks, lakes on the far edge of the valley, and huge mountains on the other side. We spent a few minutes sitting on a rock at the edge of the cliff, just taking it in.

Then, we hopped back in the car and headed back toward Lushoto. Back in the rainforest, we stopped at a waterfall on the way. The water rushed down a series of rocks, forming a large pond at the bottom before flowing into a river, but what really made it an interesting sight was the vegetation surrounding us. We’d hiked down a hill to reach the waterfall, and, standing at the bottom of falls, we were completely surrounded by shrub-covered hills towering over us. It felt like we were deep in the middle of a deserted rainforest, despite not being far from town.

With our hiking done, we headed to our final stop: the cheese- and muesli-producing farm! When we arrived at the farm’s shop, it was closed. But, our wonderful and caring guides tracked down the owners, and we ended up having dinner with them at lodge overlooking a nearby viewpoint. After dinner, they opened up the shop for us, and we (er, I) were ecstatic to purchase cheese, rye bread, muesli, locally-grown tea, and passionfruit jam. All that only cost $10, and it was all delicious! (Well, we’ll never know about the jam, because it was unfortunately confiscated at the airport in Nairobi.)

The guides dropped us back at the White House Annex, only leaving after assuring the reception was open and a room was available, and giving us instructions on how to get back to Dar the following morning. I decided to forego the dangerous shower that night, and we turned in early.

Back to Dar – and on to Zanzibar!

We were sad to leave Lushoto and the mountains the next morning, but we couldn’t wait to get to Zanzibar. Determined to make it back to Dar and onto the ferry that day, we took the only direct bus to Dar, which left at 6:00am. The ride was uneventful, as far as I can remember, but we slept during most of it – waking up mainly for frequent snacks of bread and cheese!

More interesting was our ride from the bus park to the coast, where we could get the ferry to Zanzibar. Dar is full of standard, normal taxis, with association logos, seat belts, and trunk space. The alternative, which I was not particularly expecting to see in Dar, however, was much cooler – motorized rickshaws, all painted bright blue. Given the choice between this and a regular car, of course we had to take the rickshaw. Getting into felt a lot more like getting onto an amusement park ride than a vehicle, but the rickshaw seemed to be a compromise between a car and a motorcycle, in terms of price, safety, and speed.

We reached the ticket office with time to spare before the last ferry, which was great, as it meant we had time to look for Subway. Yes, there is a Subway in Tanzania. Not a Subway, actually – six of them. Now, I don’t particularly eat at Subway at home, but the idea of the most American thing I’d have eaten in months was beyond exciting (as it has been for all the other Rwanda Volunteers who’ve traveled to Tanzania). Wandering around downtown, having given up hope of finding one, a Subway sign suddenly appeared in what seemed to be a sign for a mall (yes, a real live mall). I practically sprinted to the entrance of the building, and then nearly cried when the Subway, for some reason, was closed. We had amazing milkshakes and pizza at another restaurant in the mall, and then, when walking by again, realized that Subway hadn’t actually been closed, it had just looked closed. Ecstatic, I got a veggie sandwich to go – it even came in a real Subway sandwich bag! Ryan didn’t fully understand the joy and excitement of the Subway, but at least he humored me.

Next stop, Stone Town!

Beginning of Tanzania

My boyfriend, Ryan, came to Rwanda again this summer, and, after spending a couple weeks here, we took a trip to Tanzania. We arrived in the capital city of Dar es Salaam (which, at over three million people, dwarfs Kigali), trekked in the Usambara Mountains, and visited Zanzibar. Here, in a few parts, are the stories of our experiences and our observations of the country. Bottom line: Tanzania is great, you should go!

First Impressions of Dar

We got our first impressions of Dar from the window of our Precision Air flight from Nairobi. It was a surprise to say the least. Flying in over one corner of the city, we could see dozens, if not hundreds, of buildings that looked like they had at least five to ten stories. I knew Dar was a big city, but I was expecting decaying urban sprawl, not skyscrapers! (Just a day earlier, Ryan had predicted that Dar would be really nice, and I laughed at him. Oops.)

The night was a little hot and steamy, but comfortable, and we made it through the rather modern airport with relatively little hassle. We were required, though, to have our fingerprints scanned before we were issued our visas. In the calm area outside the airport, one taxi driver approached us politely, and we were on our way. I also have to note that the cab had air-conditioning AND seatbelts – even in the backseat!

During the seven-mile drive from the airport to downtown Dar, it almost felt like we could have been in LA. The city is big and developed, with lots of tall buildings and periodic traffic lights. More surprising, though, were the multiple housing wares mega-stores we passed, all displaying fancy wardrobes, entertainment centers, toilets, and bed frames, as well as the BMW, Toyota, and Ford dealerships. Not to mention a couple big buildings that appeared to be bona fide shopping malls!

At $18/night (including breakfast) for a double room with a fan and hot shower, plus free Internet access in the lobby, the Safari Inn, located in heart of downtown, was a good deal. We dropped off our bags, and set out to see what we could see. Despite it being a Tuesday night, the atmosphere was pretty lively – lots of people out and about, walking around, doing things. On nearly every street were fruit and vegetable vendors and people grilling meat for shawarma. After exploring for a bit and perusing the various dinner options, we decided to go for some street food, and ended up having absolutely delicious chicken shawarma (which, at about $2.30, is not nearly as cheap as street food in some countries, but certainly better than what $2.30 will normally get you in Kigali) and a glass of sugar cane juice (about $0.87).

The diversity of people out and inter-mingling – black, white, Asian, Indian, Arab, in Western dress, in Muslim dress, speaking English, speaking Swahili, speaking Arabic – also struck us. We saw foreigners and locals sitting at the same sidewalk cafés, eating street food together, talking to each other, and it was normal. Seeing the way people co-exist in Dar really highlighted the divide in Kigali, where, for example, there are clear “muzungu restaurants” (which are also frequented by upper-class Rwandans) and “local restaurants” (where bazungu can go, sure, but not without being hassled to death). Along with this, we were also surprised by the general lack of staring and harassment while we walked around. Coming from Rwanda, it was really refreshing and just pleasant (more on this later, maybe).

As this was Ryan’s first time in a country with a sizable Muslim population (35% of Tanzanians are Muslim, compared to 5% of Rwandans), we took note of the many mosques, including one enormous one, all with rows of shoes sitting outside the entrance, and the crowds of women in headscarves and men in robes coming and going. Ryan also got to experience one of my favorite sounds – the call to prayer, which he did not particularly care for. (It’s an acquired appreciation, and I’m sure my fondness for it stems partially from the fact that it reminds me of Senegal.)

Dar is a major metropolitan area, and the prevalence of so many things there, relative to Kigali, is perhaps due more to its size, and status as a major port, than its level of development. Regardless, Kigali is cleaner, sure, but Dar is definitely more vibrant.

Getting to the Mountains

Aiming to make it to Lushoto, the main town in the Usambara Mountains, by mid-afternoon, we left our hotel early and got a taxi to Ubungo, Dar’s main bus terminal. It wasn’t far, but the road between downtown and Ubungo was basically one giant traffic jam. We bought tickets at an office on the edge of the bus park, and then followed the ticket agent through the maze of huge buses to ours. With three seats on each side of the aisle and probably at least 25 rows, our bus was the size of a small airplane. During the five-hour ride to Mombo, the “scruffy junction town” (according to Lonely Planet) where we changed buses, we observed people standing in the aisles giving lengthy sermons and leading prayers, giving sales pitches for the bottles of something (beauty products?) they were selling, hawking snacks and newspapers, and, when the seats were full, simply riding the bus. The landscape during the trip was primarily the savannah that characterizes visions of East Africa, with periodic small towns along the way.

Not really knowing what we were looking for, we’d been keeping a close eye out for anything that said “Mombo.” We started seeing signs mentioning “Mombo” when we were still essentially in the middle of nowhere. A few minutes later, when the bus pulled into the parking lot in front of a large building, and everyone, including the driver, got off, we got off as well. While most of the other passengers went inside to order lunch, we looked around, trying to determine if we were where we needed to be. Eventually, we asked the guard sitting under a tree near where the bus had parked where we could get a bus to Lushoto. “Walk 500 meters there, to Mombo Town,” he said, pointing down the road. We thanked him and set off, but quickly began to wonder how we’d know when we’d reached “town,” as nothing in the visible distance looked like much of a town. We walked about 15 minutes and reached a small cluster of buildings. Was this “town?”

We approached a group of men sitting under a tree and asked them if we would be able to get a bus there. “Walk to Mombo Town, it is 500 meters,” they told us, pointing further down the road. And so we kept walking, still wondering if we’d know “town” when we saw it. About that time, the bus we’d been on drove past us. Oops. A few minutes later, we encountered a guy standing (under a tree, of course) in front of another group of small buildings. We told him where we were trying to go, and he told us Mombo Town was 500 meters down the road. But then, thankfully, he said we could wait for a bus right there. He sent his friend out to the road to watch for a bus, and, when one approached a bit later, he flagged it down and called us over. Five minutes or so down the road, in a bus this time, we approached what was certainly and recognizably “town.” It just happened to not have been 500 meters from the first person who told us that, or the second, or the third. But finally, we were on a Lushoto-bound bus!

It wasn’t far from Mombo to Lushoto, but the road was curvy and the bus stopped every five minutes or so to let people on and off. Finally, we pulled into the small mountain town and headed to the White House Annex, which Lonely Planet described as “arguably the best” of Lushoto’s “no-frills guesthouses.” The rooms were immaculate, and, apart from the potentially deadly configuration of exposed wires that made up the “hot shower,” it was another good deal, at $10/night for a double, including breakfast.

Just down the street was the office of Tayodaya, a small organization that organizes hikes in the area, so we went in to see what the options were. We had initially planned on doing a couple day hikes, returning to Lushoto each evening. When the guides mentioned we could hike during the day and then drive further into the mountains and stay in another village the second night, we opted for that instead. A big draw of one of the day hikes had been that it involved stopping for lunch at Irente Biodiversity Reserve, which produces cheese and muesli. So, because we wouldn’t be hiking there (and because of our, er, my pathetic excitement about the prospect of cheese), the guides offered to drive us to the reserve at the end of our last day of hiking.

After our trekking arrangements were made, we headed to the restaurant in one of the town’s bigger hotels for dinner, in large part because Lonely Planet mentioned the banana milkshakes on their menu. Shortly after ordering the milkshakes and our meals, though, the power went out. That meant no banana milkshakes, and also no pizza for Ryan. So, he opted to take what I thought was the risk and ordered the “pesto” pasta, which the menu described as pasta with peanut sauce. I’m pretty sure the word “pesto” was just for show, but at least the description was honest! His meal was essentially pasta covered spicy, liquidy peanut butter, but he’s a good sport and seemed to enjoy it.

Stay tuned for the story of our trek!

Sunrise, Sunset (and the phases of the moon)

Living in Rwanda, nature is a much stronger force in my life than it ever was in the U.S. What I do, where I go, whether places are even accessible, how safe I feel, it all depends largely on whether the sun’s out, whether it’s raining, whether it rained the day before, whether it’s a full moon, etc. I’m noticing and depending on things I rarely paid any attention to at home.

Perhaps the most obvious is rain: a rainstorm has the potential to destroy most of the productivity that might have been taken place on a given day. When it rains here, students and teachers miss school, meetings get cancelled, people skip work, and Peace Corps Volunteers typically hole up inside their houses. Basically, if it’s raining hard, it’s acceptable to not do anything. In Nyagatare, most people walk to get everywhere, or perhaps take motorcycle taxis. It rains hard, so if you’re walking in the rain, even with an umbrella, you’re going to get soaked. The same is true of riding a moto, which is also a safety hazard: it often rains too hard for drivers to see well, and the mud becomes too slippery for them to retain control of the moto. Most of the roads here are dirt, so if you venture out following a big storm, you’re inevitably going to get filthy, which is not acceptable in Rwanda, particularly if you’re heading to work or school. Finally, some of the dirt roads get completely washed out during the rainy season, making it impossible to even access certain places for a time. During the rainy season, it rains nearly everyday, sometimes more than once, so plans are continually disputed. During the rainy season, I sometimes dream about how nice it would be to just hop in a car and drive to wherever I need to be, rain or shine!

I’m also at the mercy of the sun, which is typically up from about 6am to 6pm. Because Rwanda is so close to the Equator, the time of sunrise and sunset doesn’t vary much throughout the year. I normally walk everywhere when I’m in Nyagatare. But, as a safety precaution, being that I’m a white female and all, I try not to walk around alone late at night. I’m frequently out in the evening, but that means either ensuring that somebody can walk me home or taking a moto taxi back to my house, which can be difficult to find at night. Like the rain, nighttime also elicits dreams of having a car that I could safely drive around alone in whenever I wanted!

Finally, the phases of the moon are something that I never paid any attention to at home. In Rwanda, however, I keep pretty close tabs on the new moon, full moon, etc. The moon doesn’t affect my actions as much as the sun and rain do, but it definitely affects my comfort level. In a town with relatively little lighting, a full moon produces a hugely noticeable amount of light. During full moons, I feel much more comfortable walking alone in the early evening (I still don’t go out alone too late, but walking around at 7 or 8 becomes much less of a issue). I even feel more comfortable going out to the latrine or to fetch water late at night. And, as it turns out the moon’s phases in Rwanda match what’s marked on my calendar from home, I also learned that they’re the same all over the world!

Ironically, the dependence on nature forces me to plan some things more carefully – according to the sun – but also forces me to be more flexible – according to the rain.

Nature’s effects on Rwandans, however, are a million times more substantial. Droughts and floods can devastate entire communities, while a good rainy season means more crops and healthier livestock. Those living without electricity are almost entirely dependent on the sun for light. You learn to do certain things in the dark, sure, but others are extremely difficult. I’ve particularly seen the effects on students, who essentially cannot study after the sun goes down. Nature affects my schedule and decisions and can make life more or less convenient; but it can bolster or destroy the livelihoods of Rwandans in ways I can’t even fathom.

Paying Bills

To follow my earlier post on doing chores in Rwanda, I thought I’d write about paying bills, which is also drastically different here from what we do in the U.S. There are basically three keys to paying bills in Rwanda: pre-paid, in person, cash only. There are some exceptions, but it’s nearly impossible to use a check (and credit cards are even less common), pay online, or receive a monthly bill for anything, and nothing is automated.

There are hardly any landline phones in Rwanda, and I have a cell phone (two, actually, one for each of the two cell phone companies). Plans or contracts are extremely rare, and nothing is unlimited. Making phone calls and sending text messages are paid for by purchasing airtime cards (receiving calls and text messages is free). You scratch them like a lottery ticket and then enter the code that’s revealed into your phone, which then stores the credit in your phone. Airtime cards are sold nearly everywhere throughout Rwanda, including at dozens and dozens of shops, stalls, and shacks in Nyagatare. The “kiosk” across the street from my house, for example, sells Tigo, though I have to walk to another one down the road to get MTN. In Nyagatare, airtime cards are sold only in denominations of 300 francs ($0.50) and 500 francs ($0.83), though denominations available in bigger towns go up to 10,000 francs ($16.53). The small amounts sold here don’t last long, and I don’t like to spend large amounts of money at once, so I’m constantly buying airtime. Also because I don’t like for people to think that I spend a lot of money, I try to rotate the stores where I get it.

Many Rwandans use airtime to access the Internet on their cell phones, but the surprisingly sturdy Nokia I bought used in Senegal in 2007 doesn’t have that capacity, so I just use my Tigo modem (which plugs into my USB drive) on my laptop. Internet modems here use the same airtime cards as cell phones, you just enter the code on your computer. Both MTN and Tigo sometimes have Internet specials, allowing you to use airtime to purchase a certain amount of bandwidth up front for a cheaper rate and occasionally even to pre-pay for an entire day or week of unlimited access.

Paying for electricity – or, as it is referred to here, cash power – is somewhat similar. Mounted on the front of my house is a cash power box, which is essentially a small machine with a keypad. Everyone’s cash power box has a different number, and I purchase electricity by taking my number to one of the two shops in town that sells cash power. They put the purchase into their network and print out a receipt with a code on it. I take the receipt home and type the code into my box, and, voila, power! Electricity can be bought in any denomination, but I usually buy 5,000 francs ($8.26) at a time – mainly because it’s a good use for the 5,000F notes that come out of the ATM in Kigali but are difficult to break in Nyagatare. That usually lasts me five or six weeks – which I suppose makes sense, considering I don’t expend electricity on a hot water heater, microwave, refrigerator, stove, dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, etc. My biggest single expense is probably the fact that I typically leave my two outside lights on overnight.

Paying for water works a little big differently. The spigot in my yard has a meter on it, which records how much water I use. Theoretically, somebody from Electrogaz (Rwanda’s water and power company) comes about once a month to read the meter and gives me a bill, which I then pay at the bank. However, there’s been some confusion (not helped by the fact that the bills themselves don’t really make sense, even to Rwandans), and the Electrogaz person has actually only come with the bill a couple of times. Go figure. Sometimes, when the spigot is off for too many days at once and my water reserves run out, I have to ask my neighbor to have somebody (usually her son or housegirl) to get water from somewhere else in town and deliver it to me. I pay in advance, so they can buy the water, and usually give them an equal amount for delivering it.

One bill I don’t know much about paying is rent, because my organization pays for my house. I would guess that might be something that is paid by check, since it would be a bigger amount.

Some of these things may work differently in Kigali or among wealthier people, but this is how I pay my bills in Nyagatare.

More Must-Reads

To follow the last post, here are some more must-reads, from a variety of other bloggers:

Six Non-Obvious Points about Conflict, Security, and Development (Africa Can…End Poverty)

Somewhat similar to Chris Blattman’s post about things he kind of believes, this one lists a few messages that Shanta Devarajan, the World Bank’s Chief Economist for Africa, thinks are important but not always discussed. My favorite is #6.

3 Roles for Aid (and let’s stop kidding ourselves) (Waylaid Dialectic)

Here, Terence, who I don't know much about other than what I've garnered from reading his blog, describes three types of aid – development, band-aid, and keeping-it-together. In short, development aid is a lie, band-aid aid is unsustainable but at least honest with itself, and keeping-it-together aid tries to stop things from totally falling apart.

Dear Everyone Who’s Ever Thought of Starting an NGO (Blood and Milk)

International development and public health expert Alanna Shaikh, known for her International Development Careers newsletter, tries to stop people from starting NGOs. Why? “You’re not going to think of a solution no one else has, your approach is not as innovative as you think it is.” Harsh, but true. (She also offers advice for the people who are going to do it anyway).

Finding Meaning in Africa (Shotgun Shack)

Experienced aid workers often have little patience for, well, a lot of things. People who go to Africa to find themselves, or do anything for themselves while pretending it's for others. People who jump into “helping” others when they have no idea what they’re doing. People who insist on starting their own NGO (see the post above for why not to). Here, another well-known anonymous blogger, and co-founder of the hilariously cynical Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like, writes about an encounter with someone who fits all of those descriptions, and raises the question of whether Westerners' pictures of Africans are often just documentation of our own experience of seeing “Africa.” (Also, read Emily’s comment at the bottom.)

The Logic of Compassion (Bottom Up Thinking)

The anonymous blogger here, known only as MJ, discusses different sectors of aid projects, and mentions a stark criterion for evaluating projects: “If you took the total cost of the project and divided it up between all the intended beneficiaries, would they prefer to receive the cash or the benefits of the proposed project?” Perhaps the folks at a certain project (or two) here in Rwanda should ask themselves this question…

If I Had Only Known… (How Matters)

This is one of the most thoughtful and thought-provoking blogs out here. In another post geared toward students, Jennifer Lentfer discusses a myriad of things she wishes she’d learned in grad school. For example: Most young aid workers come into the business with “a worldview in which change in poor people’s lives is possible with our help.” But, in her mind (and mine), “The jury is still out on this.”

Going Deeper: A Letter to My Fellow Do-Gooders (One World Children’s Fund)

In a guest post for the One World Children’s Fund, Lentfer writes about the harm aid can cause to beneficiaries' self-confidence, self-reliance, and initiative. She calls on aid workers to question themselves and to make sure this work isn’t really all about us. Otherwise, she warns, we risk unconsciously perpetuating colonial attitudes in the places we live and work.

What the People Wanted (Msafiri Mzungu)

This post from Msafiri Mzungu is actually an image – depicting all-too-accurately how what the people want usually differs dramatically from what donors want to give (which also often differs from what is actually given in the end).

Must-Read Posts

If you're interested humanitarianism, aid, development, Africa, etc., the following posts are must-reads:

Tolerance (Tales from the Hood)

The anonymous but widely respected blogger at Tales from the Hood, known only as J., writes about the difference between aid workers being tolerated by locals and actually being accepted and appreciated. He says, accurately, that Westerners in developing countries shouldn’t assume locals actually want us there.

Humanitarian Aid 101 (Tales from the Hood)

J. gives us ten basic facts about humanitarian aid.

Dear Students: Motivation (Tales from the Hood)

In this post aimed at students, J. writes candidly about aid workers’ motivations. Too many volunteers and aid workers refuse to recognize that many of their motivations are entirely self-interested – it’s not all about helping other people and making the world a better place. People don’t just want to do good – they want to be recognized for doing good.

Dear Students: Sacrifice (Tales from the Hood)

In his second post for students, J. discusses the dangers of viewing volunteer and aid work as making a sacrifice. Seeing the choice to pursue this line of work as a sacrifice is self-righteous and exacerbates the already unequal power balance between Westerners and locals. Working in a developing country isn’t making a sacrifice – it’s making a choice. And, for most of us, we’re gaining more than we’re giving up – we’re getting adventure, work experience, learning opportunities, résumé builders, and the chance to live the kind of life we decided we wanted to live.

Confronting the Demons of Ethnocentrism (Tales from the Hood)

This much older post from J. can pretty much be summed up in this (very accurate) quote: “At some point you will encounter another culture that drives you crazy, and it will not be pretty.”

10 Things I Kind of Believe about Conflict and Governance (Chris Blattman)

The study of conflict, politics, and development in poor countries is extremely murky, with very few absolute truths. Thus, Yale University political scientist & economist Chris Blattman has compiled a list of ten things he thinks he believes.

Should Student Researchers Go to Conflict Zones? (Chris Blattman)

This one’s not exactly about aid, but much of Blattman’s advice is relevant to all types of volunteers and aid workers. The bottom line: go to every possible length to ensure that you are actually beneficial (or at least not hazardous).

Mom's Return (continued)

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.

Mom's Return to Africa

As I mentioned before, stories from my mom’s visit would be coming! She came in March for two weeks, and we spent one week in Nyagatare and one week traveling.

Her visit got off to a good start, when her flight was early (when does that ever happen?) and her luggage was accounted for. We spent the first two nights at Hotel Gorilla in Kigali’s plush Kivoyu neighborhood on the edge of downtown. The hotel is a bit more outdated than the website indicates, but had hot showers, CNN, and a delicious breakfast buffet! During Mom’s first full day, I showed her around Kigali, including a visit to the Genocide Memorial, a stop at the Peace Corps office, lunch at Bourbon, dinner at Hotel des Mille Collines, and a 7,000F (just under $12) mani-pedi!

The next morning, we left Kigali for Akagera National Park, with a nice driver from Jambo Tours & Travel. I’d heard bad reviews of the park’s Game Lodge, but they seemed unfounded to me. It was charming and peaceful, with another wonderful breakfast and a nice restaurant that served excellent pizza! There is a bit of an issue with baboons – the hotel’s staff had to remind us to keep the room to our door closed at all times, to keep the baboons out and prevent them from damaging or stealing anything, which they have been known to do! But in our experience, they were more cute than annoying. We began our visit to the park with a boat trip on Lake Ihema, during which we saw numerous hippos and all manner of birds. The elephants that sometimes roam the shores eluded us, unfortunately, but the lake was lovely and the boat ride was great. We spent the afternoon relaxing by the lodge’s outdoor pool. It’s really hard to relax when you live under a microscope, so the peace and quiet of a calm afternoon at a beautiful (and empty!) pool in the middle of the park was greatly appreciated.

As the sun was getting ready to set, we headed back out into the park for a night safari. It was just us and our guide, driving through the night under the wide open sky. It felt like Africa. We saw a giraffe and tons of deer-like animals. Though the leopards I’d been hoping for weren’t out that night, driving through the empty savannah under the stars was a great experience. Mom was slightly alarmed at one point, though, when a group of motos appeared out of nowhere. Our guide seemed skeptical of them, but let them pass when they said they were just going to the village on the other side of the park. Poaching has been a problem in Rwanda, and two rangers in Akagera were killed in December, so it was a valid concern. Fortunately, though, these moto drivers seemed uninterested in both us and the animals.

After a lovely night at the lodge, we were up bright and early the next day, to begin a six-hour game drive through the park. The morning was full of wildlife sightings and photo opportunities. We saw numerous zebras and monkeys, more baboons (which seemed less accustomed to humans than the ones hanging around the lodge), and, during a stop at a small lake, a crocodile and more hippos. The drive ended with a delicious picnic lunch, which had been packed for us by the lodge, under a gazebo. We were both sad to leave the park, but it was time, and I was excited to show Mom my Rwandan home. We made the short drive from the north edge of the park to Nyagatare, and were dropped off right at my house.

I had initially been worried that Mom would get bored spending an entire week in Nyagatare. Well, so many people wanted to meet her, there was no time to be bored! There also wasn’t exactly any time to relax, but it went well overall. We basically spent each day visiting multiple people around town – and being fed multiple meals, snacks, and Fantas, of course. On our first night in Nyagatare, we visited Rebecca, one of my neighbors. Mom brought a rattle for her then one-month-old son, Noah – which she later told me he absolutely loves. Mom also had her first real Rwandan meal that night – ubugali (a gelatinous substance made of cassava flour) and beef. She didn’t exactly love it, but she got it down, and I was proud of her. Upon hearing she’d eaten that, and on her first night in Nyagatare, one of my friends later exclaimed, “Oh! That is too much African!”

As the following day was Sunday, we went to church in the morning, as I usually do. Mom had attended a church service with me in Dakar a couple years earlier, so the African style of worship wasn’t a shock to her. After the service, we had a lovely meal with the pastor and my supervisor in the church’s courtyard.

Later that week, we went to visit my friend Ezekiel’s family in the next district, which involved a 45-minute bus ride and about a half-hour walk through the countryside. There, we had an excellent meal – including peanut sauce, my favorite! – and spent some time with Ezekiel’s mother and siblings. His village is closer to what the Peace Corps is supposed to be, so I was glad Mom had a chance to see it.

I took Mom to visit the school I’ve been teaching at and to meet my students and colleagues. She brought candy (Life Savers) and ink pens for the kids, which they loved. We also went to visit the new girls’ secondary school, where I’ve just recently begun teaching as well. To get there, we had about an hour walk into the countryside, and then visited the nuns who work at the school. We toured the spacious classrooms and immaculate dormitories (most secondary schools in Rwanda are boarding schools), and were then treated to the best ikivuguto (something between yogurt and curdled milk) and amandazi I’ve had here!

Our last major trip out of Nyagatare was to visit a small organization I’ve been working with in the next sector. It was founded by two Rwandan men, who freely put their own time and resources into trying to help vulnerable people in their community. I’m continually impressed by them and their attitude – a refreshing change from the NGO workers who refuse to do anything unless they’re getting a per diem and think nothing of keeping villagers waiting for hours. While visiting them, we went to see a deaf school they’re working with. I’d actually never been to the school before, and it was really interesting to see. It currently has about 100 students and offers a very rare opportunity to deaf children in Rwanda. I was very impressed by the school’s staff, who seem to be extremely dedicated and are willing to do difficult work for little compensation in order to the help the students.

We spent the rest of our time in Nyagatare seeing friends here and visiting my favorite places in town. Everyone was extremely excited to meet Mom, and people now ask about her constantly.

Stay tuned to hear about the rest of her visit...

Genocide Commemoration

April 7^th marked the beginning of the 17^th Genocide Commemoration. The Commemoration officially lasts one week, but is subtly observed for 100 days, ultimately ending on July 4, Liberation Day (the anniversary of the official end of the genocide).

As I’ve mentioned before, the 1994 Rwandan genocide killed nearly 1,000,000 people in just 100 days and forced over two million to flee as refugees. It is frequently compared to the Holocaust, past genocides in Cambodia and Armenia and, more recently, the genocide in Darfur. What makes the Rwandan genocide different, and, frankly, more disturbing, is the level of mass participation in the killings. Pol Pot and the Khmar Rouge killed in Cambodia; Hitler and the Nazis killed during World War II. In Rwanda, ordinary people, including youth, killed their neighbors, friends, colleagues, classmates, and family members. Many major massacres occurred in schools and churches: teachers killed their students, and priests killed their parishioners. And, only killers were “safe.” Hutus believed to be “moderate” (ie, Hutus who opposed the genocide, even passively) were targeted as well.

During the genocide, the international community knew exactly what was happening in Rwanda. Canadian Lieutenant-General Romeo Dallaire, the Force Commander of the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR), told the UN his forces could put a stop to the genocide with just 5,000 troops. Instead, UNAMIR was reduced to 270 soldiers, and they were essentially prohibited from using force to stop the genocide. The U.S., bearing the political backlash of “Black Hawk Down,” in which American peacekeepers had been killed just six months earlier, refused to even use the word “genocide” to describe what was happening in Rwanda, as use of the term would have mandated intervention. While the genocide garnered a fair amount of media coverage, Americans were primarily inundated with news of the O.J. Simpson trial, the death of Kurt Kobain, and the Nancy Kerrigan-Tonya Harding rivalry in 1994. So, the killing in Rwanda continued – until corpses and genocidières (killers, organizers, and planners of the genocide) both totaled nearly 1,000,000 – put to end only when Paul Kagame (Rwanda’s current President) and his army of Tutsi rebels, the Rwandan Patriotic Front, seized Kigali in July.

But, I digress – this post is supposed to be about the ongoing commemoration. Volunteers, trying to be culturally sensitive while also involved in the community, have different ways of commemorating the genocide, and it’s often hard to know what’s appropriate. At the advice of a Volunteer from the first group, I decided to attend events if invited or asked to, but not to show up alone or invite myself to join people. I didn’t want to cause a scene and be a distraction, nor did I want to burden anyone with muzungu-sitting while they were grieving and should be focused on their families.

The first day of memorial week is the only official holiday and has the longest, and most emotional, events. Nobody asked me about attending, so I opted to stay at home that day. I did, however, attend a few events later in the week, the most notable being the all-night one. It began around 4:30pm and lasted through the night. Several hundred people gathered at the university and walked through town, the leaders carrying a large purple banner, which is a common way of beginning memorial events. The march ended at a church in town, where there was a short ceremony of music, speeches, and an offering. Around 6pm, the entire crowd headed back to the university and settled in for the night. The next several hours consisted of speeches, music, skits, and films, as well as a candle-lighting at midnight. During the films following the candle-lighting, tea and Fanta was distributed to the people who were still there. I gave in and headed home around 2am, so I’d be able to make it to church the next morning, but I’m told a small crowd remained five or so more hours.

All in all, I’m really glad I went to the mourning events. It seemed like people really appreciated my being there, and the experience provided a lot of insight. It also highlighted how little, at least in some aspects, I can relate to people here. I literally cannot imagine the things my friends here have seen and experienced, I don’t know what it’s like to see your loved ones murdered or to fear for your life, and, even after a year here, I don’t fully understand the implications of ethnicity in Rwanda.