Getting Around Rwanda: by car, bus, and foot

Other than committing to living in sub-saharan Africa for a year without ever having visited, one of my proudest accomplishments since leaving the US last month has been learning how to drive a manual car. Our school has the good fortune of owning a 10 person van, which is used for school events, grocery shopping (feeding 120 children plus faculty and staff is no easy feat ), picking up guests and dignitaries at the airport and, on occasion, teaching residents like Mary and me how to drive stick shift. Since she and I share an interest in working in developing countries in our future careers, it is only logical that we know how to operate the kind of transmission that most of the developing world uses. We put ourselves to the test one evening a few weeks ago when our fearless instructor and compatriot Andy patiently talked us through every jostle, jolt, shift and stall-out as we took turns driving to the Burundi border and back, which is located less than 30 kilometers south of our school. I would love to say that I was calm, cool and collected throughout the experience, but the fact of the matter is that when I got into the driver’s seat, turned on the car, waited for a herd of cattle to cross the road, and finally shifted the gears into motion, I was sweating bullets. Twenty minutes and countless honks of the horn later, with the requisite guidance of Andy (or Teecha And, as he is called by many Rwandans), I had driven the three of us back to Nyamata without jeopardizing the life of any person or animal along the way. Because practice makes perfect and my driving was very far from perfect, future driving lessons with Teacher Andy will resume in the next few weeks.

Perhaps equally noteworthy of an experience in traveling around Rwanda has been taking inter and intra-city buses. For 500 Rwandan francs - slightly less than 1 US dollar - you can make the 30km journey between Kigali and my village, Nyamata, while taking the buses within Kigali will cost about 200Frw (less than 40 cents). Upon arrival, I was surprised to learn that buses in Rwanda do run fairly regularly (fortunately, the notion of African time does not apply to all situations) and they are generally a safe means of transportation. The downside to riding the bus is a little more obvious: there is no apparent vehicle standard, and you can kiss your personal space good-bye for the duration of the ride. A “bus” is almost always a white colored van with a logo on the side and its destination route hand-painted on the back or front end. The interior varies: some vans have the steering wheel on the left, while others have it on the right. Every one I’ve been in is in pretty awful shape on the inside, with broken seat fixtures, hanging bars and patchwork upholstery, not to mention the Fanta citron/orange soda bottle caps that are screwed into the backs of seats to cover some of the sharp edges. I’ve been able to notice some of these details in the times I’ve been sandwiched between other passengers and/or the side of the van, which is an implicit fact of riding a public bus. The buses are always filled to capacity, which means there are at least three people up front next to the driver, and usually 5-6 in each of the subsequent rows (which are designed for three, perhaps four people). One saving grace is that there is normally some form of ventilation coming from the windows…but even that doesn’t really compensate for the range of odors that exist on a public bus ride in the heart of a developing country. Getting out of Nyamata on the bus also requires a good deal of patience, as - depending on the driver, time of day and demographic aboard - the bus will stop multiple times to allow passengers to chat with passing friends/neighbors along the route, drop off/pick up more passengers, and flag down other buses or seemingly unaffiliated vehicles to exchange information or goods (it’s really not as sketchy as it sounds...or is it?)

One of my favorite means of exploring Nyamata has been by going on early morning runs around the hillside and main road. The first few weeks I always tagged along with my housemate, Kate - who has also inadvertently become my yoga guru - but now I am at the point where I’m familiar enough to run by myself from time to time. Although I ran regularly prior to arriving in Rwanda and was happily anticipating my first jog, my first 30 minutes in the Maranyundo hillside felt more like a death march than anything resembling leisure, due to the huge change in altitude. Newton, MA=100 feet above sea level, Nyamata, Rwanda=5200 feet above sea level (…and in comparison, the champion runners from Kenya who take the gold in the Boston Marathon each spring are training at about 5700 feet!) Although it is not common for Rwandans to run for sport, they are more supportive and enthusiastic about seeing runners pass by than any people I’ve ever encountered! On the hillside routes, people always shout muraho! (hello), ama kuru? (how are you), and hooray from afar. When little children see Kate and me coming down the path, they start jumping up and down shouting “muzungu!” and often they will run alongside of us for several minutes, usually barefoot. There have been other times à la Forrest Gump, when not only children but groups of women on their way to the market will see us and join in on the journey to the main road, carrying baskets and other goods and dressed well for the day, as is customary in Rwanda. Last week, one woman in particular caught up to my speed and we raced the last five minutes of the route until we arrived at Maranyundo; despite a full-on sprint on my part, in her skirt and sandals she was victorious! While running on the hillside is quite scenic, running on the main road also has its benefits: each kilometer is clearly marked and there are even more people passing by on foot, moto, and bike-taxi (yes, there are cyclists who will bring people to their destination – often uphill – for a minimal fare) who are thrilled to witness a muzungu trekking across Rwanda, and will subsequently express their enthusiasm through cheering in Kinyarwanda, French or English.