A Reflection of My Life after living in Uganda as a U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer

Monday, February 7, 2011

My Family Visits Part IV: Rwanda

The African Massage continued as we made our way from Bwindi Impenetrable Forest further South to Rwanda. The Kisoro Uganda to Rwanda boarder is considered a remote border crossing. We bumped across rough dirt roads then walked across the border after only a brief glance at our passports was made. Crossing the border from Uganda to Rwanda is like changing from broad day-light to the blackest of midnights. The roads are paved, without pot-holes. There is a remarkable absence of garbage and the smell of burning garbage. Towns and roads are labeled with landscaping throughout. Everything seems much more organized and ordered.

We spent a few days in Gisenyi on Lake Kivu. It’s a small town on the boarder of DR Congo. It was a relaxed time where we played cards looking out over the lake, ate good food and took leisurely walks.

From Gisenyi we headed to Kigali, the capital of Rwanda. Here met up with my friend Jacelyn from medevac for dinner. I have loved our friendship and the ease we have had visiting between Uganda and Rwanda. It’s always nice to see her.

We spent a morning at the Genocide Museum. This is a horrific place that should be viewed by everyone. My family was surprised at some of the information given. The media in America covered so little about it at the time and even to this day people know the basics and what they saw on Hotel Rwanda. The museum is really well done. While, “enjoyed” is too strong a word “appreciated” is how we felt about our visit there.

Rwanda was just a quick little trip for us and so after Kigali we went back to Kampala. The only options for travel between the 2 capital cities are by bus or airplane. Airplane tickets are expensive and I really thought my family should experience the African bus so bright and early we boarded Kampala Coach. Here is what my mom had to say about the bus:

“We took the Kigali/Kampala bus as 5:45am. They fed us tea and samosas (fried pies in a thin fried tortilla like thing) and chapatis (flat bread made with flour, oil and water). Little did I know that this could possibly be our last supper. Once on the bus it took off like it was jet propelled, honking the horn, passing where no motor cycle could get through, with the music on as loud as it possibly would go. A mere 8 hour trip turned into 11.5 hours. By the time we got off, my ears were ringing and my nerves were shot!!!!”

Sorry family! The bus was by far their least favorite part of our travels. But at least they understand that aspect of my life more intimately.

No comments:

Post a Comment