A time for celebration

This weekend, I was invited to a friend's town to spend some time before she leaves to go back to America. She is a teacher and the supervisor of an English club so in order to thank her for all her time, a party was thrown. Rwandan parties are not what expect with food and drinks available, milling guests, and maybe a couple of toasts. Everything is planned, everything is run by the schedule. For such an informal event, there was a great deal of formality. The party started innocently enough with a few speeches, a song, poems, and such. The DJ was getting a little excited and decided there was to be no silent moments, so whenever a speaker had finished, or even at a long pause, there would be a burst of "Shorty is a melody in my head" or something similar. Then comes a performance by a young man performing a song. The rain is starting to sprinkle on the tin roof as he starts singing. Unfortunately the mike gives out so he just starts belting without it. Nature must have a wicked sense of humor because at that moment, the sky opens up and it starts pounding on the metal above us. The louder he sings, the louder the rain gets until he is no longer audible. It is only the deafening roar, like standing next to a jet engine. He is still singing his heart out, kids are covering their ears in pain from the noise of the rain. Needless to say, the song was not heard. Next up was the food. Instead of having a table with the spread or even having people carrying trays, individual bowls were passed out with a samosa and an amandazi each. Everyone needed their own. While the refreshments were being served Megan, Ellie, and I decided to set up Megan's great surprise. Imagine for a moment what your initial thought would be if you saw a small panda hanging from a rope from the rafters, and then were asked to circle around it because we were going to play a game. For someone that has never seen a pinata, I can't even imagine their thoughts when we asked what was inside and then indicated that we are going to hit it to find out. So, we start with the pinata festivities, which everyone is getting a kick out of. It's a bunch of Rwandan 15-25 year olds, blindfolded, swinging at a solid looking panda. One defiant swing sends a shattered piece of the stick into the crowd (luckily no one is hurt), as the head of the panda pops off. Apparently not as sturdy as we thought. We encourage them to continue and finally, the finally blow cracks the panda's glossy shell. There is a split second when the candy hits the ground before it registers and the kids are moving faster than anything I have ever seen. In less than 5 seconds, every scrap is picked clean off the floor. They know not to let a good thing get away. On to the rest of the ceremony. The dishes have been cleared and the kids are seated again, listening intently. During the next speech I look up only to see helpers coming in, carrying around trays of toothbrushes, one for each child. Megan did have a lot she was planning to distribute, though I'm not sure quite as formally. With oral hygiene taken care of, the celebration eventually finishes up and disintegrates into a dance party. Why not, it's a Rwandan party after all.

The 5 Senses of Rwanda

Smell:

Rain, before the storm comes and after it washes through and leaves everything with the perfumed scent of being washed clean

Charcoal from cooking fires being lit when the day ends and the family begins preparing for their dinner

Taste:

Beer and brochettes at a local bar, a typical fast food meal

Slightly earthy, metallic, and plastic taste of water that comes from the outside tap

Touch:

Fine layer of dust that covers everything during the dry season

Hands that are shaken every time you greet a friend or neighbor

Hearing:

Onatracom buses rumbling down the rocky dirt road beside my house

Birds that wake you at the crack of dawn every morning with their chirruping

Sight:

The expanse of green topped red mountains that define the landscape of Rwanda

Igitenge in wildly colorful designs worn by every woman in the village

Off to Uganda we go!!!

I apologize for the length of this entry but I wanted to share my whole experience in Uganda!

We started out at the crack of dawn Sat, Oct 3 from Kigali on the cramped and none-too comfortable Jaguar coach. Passing 10 hours or so in a cramped space could only be worth the glorious vacation that awaited us. The four of us got into Kampala after our long journey late-afternoon. We decided to go straight to the Red Chili, the back-packer's hole where we would stay two night. Unfortunately, our first casualty came not 10 minutes after leaving the bus when I wasn't watching where I was going and ended up spraining my ankle. Great start, I know. We made to the Red Chili which is an awesome hole in the wall spot with all sorts of travelers. The next morning we leisurely set about exploring Kampala. which turns out is a lot different than Kigali. It's much dirtier, both with trash and dust, with a lot more people, cars, and buildings. It was still a cool city with a lot of metropolitan touches, such as high-tech electronics stores, food courts with shwarmas and hummus, and known chain stores. We had heard rumor of a wonderful street food called a "rolex," not the watch but a chapatti with an omelette of sort rolled in it. We kept asking around since we couldn't see any vendors and were finally ushered upstairs to a rooftop bar overlooking the most insane taxi park you could ever think of. Imagine what we would look like as ants, and that would be close. So we order the famed rolex, which the waitress called an egg roll which seemed to make sense. After a bit she sets plates down in front of us and we quickly realize this is not the real rolex. Instead, we had been served a hard-boiled egg encased in a fried ball of mashed potatoes. Close but no cigar.

The next morning, Adrift picks us up to transport us to Jinja where the adventure was to begin. We arrive at the lodge expecting to be ushered to bungee jumping only to find out we are set and ready to head down the Nile. The white-water rafting route set up by the company consisted of about 7 or 8 rapids ranging from class 2 to class 5 with at least 4 of them being class 5. Turns out I am a terrible rafter as I end up out of the boat on the very first rapid. The other rapids turn out to be more exciting as we battle to stay right side up, losing only twice. A few of the rapids we went down sideways and after hitting a huge swill, got completely upturned. Luckily we had practiced flipping and then getting back in and no-one suffered any great damages with the mishaps. At one point we ended up going down a 15 foot waterfall. It was like a cartoon where the boat squished together at the bottom of the fall and then magically sprung back to its normal shape without flipping. Rafting for around 6 hours was beginning to take its toll when we finally reached the last rapid, appropriately named 50 - 50. We were determined to stay upright and be the 50% that came out unscathed. We paddled, prayed, and got down ... and we made it! We quickly paddled off to the side to prepare for the 2nd half of the rapid which required maneuvering into the middle of the waves. Our guide told us we had to paddle as hard as possible to make it to where we needed to go so we set off paddling for the middle of the water. No go. We pulled back to the starting point to attempt it again. This time we were all psyched to paddle as hard as we possibly could. We started out and had just reached the edge of the rapid when I dug down a little too hard, lost my balance, and slipped off the boat. No dramatic bouncing or flipping me off my seat in a class 5, I just fell off. A failed attempt to catch me led to me swirling around the underside of the raft, terror-stricken that I wouldn't have enough air to last. Eventually, when I thought I was just about out of it, I surfaced half way down the rapid, waiting helplessly for the safety rescue kayaks to come pick me up. I then got the pleasure of watching my raft enjoy their last successful rapid of the day snug in the boat. A sorry way to end the trip but pretty hilarious nevertheless. Sore and weary but with free BBQ snacks and beer to cheer us up, we headed back to camp to enjoy a relaxing chill night.

The day of our jump arrived and got ourselves prepared to leave all sanity behind and put our daring to the test. We climbed to the platform, growing a little more nervous with each step. One can only psych themselves up so much. Three of us stood on the catwalk while Avery went out to the jump platform and got tied up. Typically jumpers are tied by their ankles, like Avery was. They then hop their way to the edge, get counted down and jump straight out, like they were doing a belly flop in the air. Avery went down screaming wait deep into the Nile, then bounced right back up, completely unharmed save for the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Next up was me. Due to my bum ankle they decided it was better if I was in a harness to save me pain of being suspended from a sprained appendage. I was terrified, thrilled, excited, nervous, and hyperventilating all at the same time but felt better knowing I knew what to do after listening to what they told Avery. Too bad a harness is different than ankles. I got the pleasure of running out instead of flat jumping. Also, I was charged with holding onto a blue strap that was attached to the bungee. I was supposed to keep it outstretched so it didn't come back to hit me in the face when I jumped. Yeah, like anyone is going to be paying attention to holding a strap when they are hurtling towards the earth. Jack counted down, 3 ... 2 ... 1... BUNGEE! There was a split second where your heart stops and you don't think you can do it, but then your body over rules your mind and you are running and diving off the ledge. Of course the strap was the first to go and I am sure there was a fair amount of flailing. It was one of the most bizarre feelings. For half the time down I couldn't even scream. You are falling head first, your stomach has locked down, and all you can see is water rushing up to meet you at an incredible speed. Your mind focuses in on this singular aspect. You can tell your body is moving through space, but time is still. And then, all of a sudden you are bouncing back. With the harness you can't touch the water and you bounce back upright so you are sitting there in the harness bouncing up and down. Stars were flashing in front of my eyes from the sudden change in direction and I enjoyed my bouncing, being reminded of parachuting down while skydiving. I was lowered into the boat and went off to the side to watch Arielle and Devin scream their way down. No casualties or unpleasant experiences, but a whole lot of smiles, shaky hands, and wishing we could do it again.

Feeling on top of the world we enjoyed another relaxing night at the adrift camp. There happened to be a group called African Trails staying over at the same time so we made friends and had a good night. It turns out they travel around all of Africa, from Marakesh to Cape Town, back up to Istanbul in a revamped truck, spending a few days to a week in a place before moving on. Between a South African, a couple of Australians, some Brits, and an American, we enjoyed a bringing in a birthday. We also all successfully completely the challenge of getting into an upside down kayak which was suspended from the rafters. (Much easier than is sounds or appears). The next day and night passed without much event besides a few naps, some book reading, general laying around.

From Adrift we headed about half an hour north west of Jinja, making our way to the Hairy Lemon. With a quick stop to grab some real rolexes, a heart-stopping bodda bodda ride with a 40 lb backpack on, and a pleasant canoe trip to the island, we made it. Basically it's an island owned by the Hairy Lemon with beaches, a bunch of cabanas, hammocks, and just an awesome atmosphere. As you can tell from the sounds of it, nothing productive happened there. We met the other people staying, basically all of which happened to be American (strange actually), and enjoyed hammock time. The second day I was able to learn how to roll a river kayak from one of the other guests. I must admit I was pretty proud of myself, especially when I got out of the kayak and discovered I had about 10 gallons of water sitting in the bottom, which might have been a reason I was having some trouble. I felt justified. Eventually it was time to head home so we bid farewell to that beautiful place and hopped a ride with two of the other guests who lived in Jinja, and so began our adventure home.

After a couple hours of wandering around Jinja and learning that everyone who said Uganda was cheaper was lying, we got on our bus headed for Kampala. Unfortunately, buses typically don't take off until they completely fill it, which means sitting in a hot, crowed, sweaty bus for half an hour or more is commonplace. You can tell how our trip started off. Finally, we got going. About an hour into our two hour journey we are startled by a loud bang and realize we have blown a tire. Instead of stopping to change or repair like normal people, we decide to drive on it until the next town where we fill the tire with air, and continue to drive on it until we reach a line of buses. Our bus stops on the side of the road and everyone starts getting off. No idea what's going on! Comprehension finally dawns when we are ushered onto another bus and start going again. Ok, so disaster averted. We are off again, about 20 minutes from Kampala when, once again, the bus stops and people start getting off. Huh?!?! Asking a few people we get the answer, "This bus is out of gas, we must take another bus." Seriously? So, we hop on our third bus to finally take us into Kampala. We make our way to the Kampala Coach station in the hopes of getting a 10 PM ticket. No such luck. Not only is 10 filled by so it the midnight, our back-up. Now we are contemplating having to stay another night. We call Jaguar and they say they have space on their 3 AM bus. So hurry ourselves over to the bus stop to buy the tickets and then set about wasting 6 hours; which involved walking the Kampala streets, attempting to watch a movie in the back staff room that smells like fish, curling up on a random mat in the luggage check room, and huddling on the stairs outside the ticket window. Finally, it's 2 and we are allowed on the bus and we are off, back home to Rwanda. Thankfully most of the morning was passed behind closed eyes until we had to disembark and spend an hour and a half twiddling around at the border for no apparent reason. Too bad, once we crossed the border, the bus stopped every 20-30 minutes to let people off. At one point we had a flashback when the bus stopped and everyone got off. We couldn't get an answer from anyone but saw once we got out that they were taking down a tree. So, instead of driving under it, we got out, walked under, the bus followed, and we got back on. Needless to say we were getting annoyed and tired at this point. Eventually we made it back to Kigali and spent a few hours with internet before I boarded a bus to come back to site, to which I arrived in the dark, raining, sprained ankle, and no available light, a computer in my bag, and my 40 lb pack. I stumbled back to my house somehow, dropped my bags, crawled into bed and spent the next 14 hours dreaming of the amazing vacation I had just had.