Lake Bunyoni

Lake Bunyoni (literally translated, the place of many little birds) is a must stop for any bird lover in East Africa. My good friend Rita and I both happen to be bird lovers living in East Africa, so before I was too far from Rwanda, we made a trip. The island is home to over 200 species of birds. Beautiful, colorful, singing birds! I’m pretty sure while at Lake Bunyoni we also converted our friend Virginia.

From Kabale, we took a twenty minute taxi ride to the edge of Lake Bunyoni where we were dropped off at the small dock for Byoona Amagara-- our hotel. From the dock, we were given the choice of paying for a motorboat or taking the free wooden canoe to the hotel. I’ll give you one guess as to which option we took.

Our canoe ride took about forty five minutes, and my exhaustion after paddling off and on throughout made me a little nervous for the white water rafting trip I had planned the next week…but more on that later.

unpacking in the geodome

Once off the boat, we were shown to our own personal geodome. This “room” was an open hut, allowing us to take in the beautiful views of the lake and the birds while still in bed.

geodome

Byoona Amagara is a self-proclaimed “traveler’s paradise” and came highly recommended by various Peace Corps and VSO Volunteers. The reviews held mostly true. It is certainly a backpackers place and very camp-y, so if that’s not your scene, I would look into other options on the island. The staff is mostly friendly, accommodations are nice and the price is very reasonable—although everything besides the room is extra, including hot showers and any battery charging you might need (the geodomes do not have electricity).  There is a small library on the property, as well as other entertainment options you can pay for.   

If you find yourself visiting Lake Bunyoni (which you absolutely should if you're in Rwanda or Uganda), I would recommend Byoona Amagara, with some additional suggestions to make your stay even better: make sure all your electronics are charged ahead of time; bring binoculars and a book or two (maybe even a bird guide); pack some snacks—the restaurant is good, but it’s your only option and can get a bit tiresome and expensive. On that note-- make sure you have enough Ugandan Schillings for everything! Credit cards are not accepted and while US dollars are, the exchange rate is awful. 

My friends and I spent a lovely few days on Lake Bunyoni at Byoona Amagara. The combination of beautiful birds, good food (I highly recommend the avocado crayfish dish), and general relaxing/vacation vibe (long naps, jumps into the lake, swings, and nature walks included) were a fantastic start to my newest adventure; and a well needed rest after the long, two-year Peace Corps adventure I just completed. 

view from our geodome

The Adventures Begin! -- Kabale, Uganda

From Saint Paul’s Hostel in downtown Kigali, I headed to the Nyabigogo Bus Station. My big bag weighed heavily on my back as the driver inched up Kigali’s hills; gravity and my pack fighting to push me off the small motorcycle seat. In Nyabigogo, I met up with two other friends who were joining me for the start of my adventure. First stop: Uganda. More precisely, the town of Kabale, in Southwest Uganda.

If Kabale rings a bell, it’s probably because over the last few months the city has been the epicenter of Uganda’s most recent public health crisis: Ebola virus and Marburg fever. I am happy to report that neither my friends nor I contracted either deadly virus or fever, and the town itself seemed to be doing just fine.

Virginia, ready for Uganda

In Kigali, we mounted a Kampala Coach bus, which takes passengers from Kigali all the way to Uganda’s capital, Kampala in about fifteen hours. Less than three hours after our departure, we arrived at the border, where we were asked to dismount the bus, check out through Rwanda’s immigration office, walk across the border, and check in at Uganda’s immigration desk before getting back on the road.

My friends and I knew we were no longer in Rwanda the second we saw street food. In Rwanda, innocent civilians are deprived daily of the culinary delights that are fried street foods because of “sanitary and hygiene concerns”. Uganda seems to have its priorities more clearly in line, and street food is abundant. More on the escapades of my taste buds later.

Less than an hour after crossing the border, we were motioned off the bus. Welcome to Kabale! Eager motorcycle and taxi drivers offered to take us anywhere, but being the cheap (Returned) Peace Corps Volunteer that I am, I walked.

Bunks at Home of Edirisa

The walk to Home of Edirisa, a hostel recommended to me by other volunteers, took longer than I had expected, but offered a great first glance at Uganda. The streets seemed less organized and dirtier than Rwanda’s, yet somehow more vibrant and definitely wealthier: more grocery stores, more banks, and more clothing stores with more clothing. Amazing how, despite the distance being only a few kilometers, the differences between Rwanda and Uganda were so clear to me.

At the Home of Edirisa, we sat down for a nice, long lunch. The atmosphere and the place itself were nice, the food was fine once it got to the table, but the wait time for food tested even my well trained patience.

Rita, traditional umbrella model

For the unbeatable price of 9,000 Ugandan Shillings, the decision to stay the night was pretty easy. $3.50 got me not only a clean bunk bed and warm-ish shower, but a free tour of the “museum”. A very friendly staff member showed us around a large room where a traditional hut had been built and lots of traditional decorations hung. The guide explained everything along the way, including the traditional umbrellas, which I obviously tried on. 

The rest of our time in Kabale was spent admiring street food, admiring the shelves of Ugandan grocery stores (they have maple syrup!)…admiring food in general. 

Murabeho, mu Rwanda

On November 15, I officially finished my service with Peace Corps and became a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer-- although it will still be a few months before I return home.

During my last two weeks in Rwanda, I tried to write this post, but couldn’t. I thought perhaps some geographical and temporal distance would give me the perspective necessary to neatly summarize the last two years of my life. Maybe more miles and more years will help; for now I can only tell you that two countries and three weeks are not enough.

As a very eager college freshman, I went to the office hours of my assigned adviser in the School of Industrial and Labor Relations. I felt determined to get to know this professor for several reasons: sitting in on his class as a pre-frosh had been a big factor in my decision to attend Cornell; many students had warned me about his rigorous coursework and tough grading; and finally, I had heard he was a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.

“I heard you did the Peace Corps! Did you like it?!” my enthusiastic, eighteen year old self blurted out to the six-foot-something, square glasses, bow-tie-and-suspender-wearing Ivy League Professor. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“Did I like it? That’s like asking someone if they like breathing. You don’t like it—you just do it.”

At the time, I found the response to be rather odd. Now, after two years in the Peace Corps, I find it to be the most appropriate response to such an absurd question.

There are people, places, tastes, sights, and smells that I have liked—no, that I have loved-- about my Peace Corps experience. My heart aches to think that I will probably never again pester my fourteen year old neighbor Kabebe as to whether or not his mother has eggs to sell me. I will miss the casual nights with friends drinking lukewarm Primus and savoring brochettes. On my last night at post, staring out at the sun setting over the hills facing my “backyard”, I thought perhaps leaving was a mistake after all. Of course, there were many moments throughout the last two years where I had thought of nothing but making it to that last night… but I did it.  

I am so grateful for the amazing opportunities and experiences that the last twenty six months have brought me. From the first rays of sun that so brutally hit my body in Niger, to the mud-caked shoes I scrubbed clean during rainy season in Rwanda—it’s been a trip.

I have learned a lot about myself: that I am an emotional eater, and in times of stress all food items containing large amounts of flour and/or oil should be kept at bay. I’d also like to think that I’ve learned a bit about “the world”; certainly about Rwanda: that development statistics don’t tell the whole story, and that in the face of complete mental, physical, and emotional destruction, people are much more resilient than you’d think. I have learned that I am one of the luckiest people in the world.

And now, it’s time for the next adventure! Over the next four months I plan to travel overland to eight or nine countries—from Kigali all the way down to Cape Town. Various friends are joining me for different parts of the trip, and I’m making several stops along the way to visit other friends and friends-of-friends. The itinerary is very flexible. For the first time in my life, “the next step” is completely blank, but I feel very confident and hopeful about it.

Stay tuned!

Dad visits Rwanda, and blogs about it!

Just before it was too late I had the long wished for opportunity to visit my daughter in Rwanda. We had been communicating regularly by telephone and email and had even seen her briefly twice in the past two years, and we had, of course, read this blog and seen many photos, so we thought we had a pretty good understanding of her experience. Of course, I was wrong. Totally wrong. In this case, the cliché about “having to experience it” is most apt. My week in Rwanda was wonderful, incredibly informative, and certainly unforgettable. I left feeling tremendously proud of my daughter (don’t mean to embarrass you, Alma, but that’s the deal…) and also proud of the Peace Corps, not so much for the help they provide, though I see there is plenty of that, but for the extraordinary dual service they perform on behalf of our country: first, I think it would be a huge mistake to underestimate the diplomatic value of Peace Corps volunteers. They do represent our country wonderfully and the relationships they create “out in the field” do pay dividends. Secondly, Peace Corps volunteers create a magnificent pool of extremely talented, world-wise, multilingual, problem-solving individuals that greatly enrich our present and future leadership class. I had a vague idea that this was the case, but now I’ve seen it for real. Cheers to you and to all PCVs. That’s the feel good part.

Lodging in Ruanda: I stayed in three perfectly comfortable hotels, Chez Landa in Kigali at the end of the week, a lodge at the entrance to Nyungwe Forest National Park, and Hotel Paradis in Gisenyi, on beautiful Lake Kivu. My first night in Ruanda we stayed at a hotel that reminded me of my poorest student days. Dim light, depressing furnishings, cracked walls... but, it was fine. The other hotels were quite comfortable. Hotel Paradis lived up to it's name, no for the accommodations, which were fine, but for the spectacular surroundings. A tropical paradise. That was the tourist experience. The two nights at my daughter's site in Munini... that was the real deal. No electricity, no running water, and a latrine the likes of which I had not experienced in several decades. No, that's inaccurate. That was a completely new experience.

Hija mía, two years like this?! That is serious. That has to change you. Big time. Of course, it's not just, nor even principally, the loss of typical, rich country comforts that will change one, though I'm sure that it has a huge impact. It's all that in combination with being in a thoroughly different culture. You're white where no one else is. People stare. Really stare. Want to feel like a freak? I've got a place for you to visit. I don't want to insist too much on what's fairly obvious, but it's worth remembering: language, beliefs, climate, history... it's all so different. You absorb it little by little, adapt, evolve, integrate. One day you realize you're not the same person you were six months ago, a year ago. Your horizon is wider, your field of vision deeper. When I was 20 years old I experienced this during a nine month stay in Madrid, Spain. It had a huge impact on me. Alma, what you've experienced over the past two years makes my experience seem like a stroll over to the next village.

Ruandans: I liked the Ruandans I met. They were friendly and seemed genuinely glad that I was there. I need to make a special mention of Augustin Mudahunga, our driver for two days. When my daughter mentioned she was going to hire a driver, I was skeptical. A driver? Really, that sounds like something for the super rich. I'd just rent a car. Nooo, good call, Alma. To call the route that runs north/south along the eastern shore of Lake Kivu a "road" is somewhat of an overstatement. Yowzer! Again, you have to experience it. Augustin was fantastic. He's a very skilled driver; more importantly, a wonderful guide and a very kind, pleasant man. If you go to Rwanda, make sure Augustin Mudahunga is your driver! The people in Alma's village were also kind and interesting. It was wonderful and extremely satisfying to have my daughter, fully integrated into the community, be my interpreter and guide! But what life is really like for adult Ruandans... I couldn't really understand, of course. Who can? In the back of my mind always was the genocide. How does a society move forward from something like that? Could it ever happen again? I don't have any answers, but I can say I'm glad I left reading about the genocide for AFTER the trip. Romeo Dallaire's Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda is an extraordinary book. Infuriating and heartbreaking.

Rwanda is a beautiful country. Land of a thousand hills. Indeed! The Nyungwe Forest is a real gem and it was a treat to be able to take a nice hike in it. Green valleys everywhere! People everywhere! The "buses"! I thinking some of my bones are still vibrating. I saw an awful lot in one week, met many people, was given much to think about.  I'm still digesting it. Thank you, Alma, for your service! And thank you for teaching your old man so much!

Z is for ZINGARO

Rwanda's equivalent of bar food involves goat meat skewers and roasted potatoes. Usually, the meat on the skewer is normal umubir, body meat. If you're extra lucky though, you'll get zingaro, the tasty insides! 

Y is for YOUTH

X is for X-rays

The district hospital has one x-ray machine that sometimes works. It's one x-ray for the entire district-- with a population that exceeds a quarter million people. Below, my friend and district radiologist. 

W is for WATER

Lake Kivu

V is for VACCINATION

Every Friday is vaccination day at my health center. Anywhere between ten and one hundred children who are anywhere from a day to a year old come in with their mothers for vaccinations against polio, rotavirus, tuberculosis, and measles just to name a few. For a great blog post about vaccinations in Rwanda, check out the Peace Corps Rwanda Gender and Development Group blog for a post written by my good friend, Rita.

U is for UMUGANGA

Umuganga is the word in Kinyarwanda for doctor or nurse. Over the last two years, I have met some really incredible and inspiring abaganga who ensure the health and future of all Rwandans.

T is for TEACHER

Anne Marie is a local secondary school teacher, co-adviser/teacher to our youth club, my Kinyarwanda teacher, and a great friend for the last two years.

S is for SHORTWAVE RADIO

my trusty radio

This post could also be titled ‘Alma loves BBC World Service’.

I spend what sometimes seems like hours searching the shortwaves to pick up something I understand. Every once in a while, I come across Radio National Espanola, which is always a treat. But more often than not, I listen to BBC.

I feel a very special connection to the World Briefing and Focus on Africa broadcasters who I listen to religiously. Living by myself, I’ve almost come to think of Marion Marshall and Harriet Gilbert as friends. After a long day of work, I come home, turn on the radio and ask, “how was the day today?”... and they tell me!

Saturday mornings in village are particularly lovely because I sleep in (7:30AM), heat some water for coffee, maybe make biscuits, and listen to the BBC. Later, I’ll spend some time cleaning the house, all while listening to lovely British voices telling me about the world. Besides the news, shows like The Strand and Witness are particularly interesting. 

My absolute favorite is From Our Own Correspondent. This show features small stories from the BBC correspondents around the world. Subjects range from summer camps in the US to beggars in the DRC. 

R is for RWANDA

Land of a thousand hills... 

Q is for QUESTION

I ask a lot of questions. I believe very strongly in the power of asking questions. What will you learn if you don’t ask questions? How can progress take place if people don’t question the status quo?

Students from the secondary school youth club

So, you can imagine my dilemma when I realized that in Kinyarwanda, the word for question, icibazo, is also the word for problem. In Rwanda, a question is often considered a problem. One of my greatest victories comes when I hear students in the youth club I helped organize exclaim, "Teacher! Question!". 

P is for PEACE CORPS

For those interested in the Peace Corps, I've added a new page to my blog... check out the link above. 

O is for ORIGAMI

In Peace Corps, they tell you to expect the unexpected.

Being evacuated from one country and sent to another was certainly unexpected, but if I tell that story back home, I feel like it sort of makes sense. Same with other stories involving bus accidents, women in labor, farm animals walking into my house, and weird food.  The most unexpected thing I’ve done in Peace Corps so far is learn how to make origami.

Thanks to my dear friend Nora, who forced her origami paper on me in Morocco after our Niger evacuation, I have made origami a hobby. If you’ve received letters from me in the mail, chances are they came in the shapes of dog faces and sailboats.

N is for NUTRITION

Some of my favorite graduates from the malnutrition program at the health center-- 

M is for MUSIC

If my iPod were Rwandan... this would be it's "Most Played" Playlist--

1. Dream Boyz ft. Kitoko - Bella

2. King James - Narashize and Ndakwizera

3. Urban Boyz - Isano

4. Knowless - Ibidashoboka

5. Meddy - Ni njyewe and Mubwire 

6. Kamichi - Aho ruzingiye *fun fact, there's a PCV in this music video!

7. Flavour - Sawa Sawa

8. Radio and Weasle - Toko Toko

9. Kenzo - Stamina

10. Tom Close - Impamvu

L is for LOVE

Every time I ride a motorcycle in Rwanda, I am reminded how much I love being here. There’s something about the wind against my face; watching women walk gracefully, large loads on their heads and banana trees in the backdrop; the small-talk with my driver, and the winding hills that we go swiftly up and down... a feeling of absolute satisfaction gets a hold of me and any doubts about why I am here or whether I should just go home completely vanish. This is exactly where I want to be, and I love it.

K is for KIBEHO

The Chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary in Kibeho

Kibeho is a town not far from my village. In fact, it’s the largest town in my district, and it’s famous around the world! Every year, tens of thousands of people descend on Kibeho to worship Nyina wa Jambo – literally translated “Mother of the Word”.

Celebrations on Assumption Day

There have been several reported visions of the Virgin Mary in Kibeho, mostly by school students in the area. In the late 1980’s and early 1990’s some students reported having seen the Virgin standing over a river of blood, asking them to pray for Rwanda and the difficult times to come. From what I've been told, local and international Catholic church leaders came to investigate the apparitions and they were later officially approved. 

The last recorded apparition of the Virgin Mary is reported to have been in May 1994 (while the genocide was still occurring). The Virgin’s “message”, that President Habyarimana was with her in heaven, was broadcasted over Radio Rwanda at the time and largely interpreted as supporting the genocide. This apparition has of course met more skeptics and less approval.

Still, the earlier apparitions have attracted thousands of devout Catholics from all over the world to Kibeho. There is a hotel run by nuns in town, which government officials use constantly for various district meetings. They serve delicious tea. Several churches and chapels have been errected, and the town has certainly prospered from its international attention.

Kibeho, like almost every other town and city in Rwanda, suffered during the 1994 Genocide—and not only from a controversial Marian apparition. Thousands of Tutsis were killed in Kibeho, the largest massacre occurring at the cathedral. Here, after several days of shooting and violent attacks, the killers were said to have become tired and just set the holy house on fire to take care of the rest. Ninety schoolchildren were slaughtered after a priest told them not to worry, that the police would look after them.

What is much more unusual (and certainly much less publicized) about Kibeho, is what happened after the genocide.

Kibeho

When the Rwandese Patriotic Army, led by General Paul Kagame, took over Rwanda and ended the genocide, thousands of Rwandans who had participated (actively and passively) in the genocide began to flee. The fear of retribution was actively instilled by the Interahamwe and genocide leaders, who wanted to escape Rwanda hidden among masses in “internally displaced persons camp” set up by the French during Operation Tourquise.

Within a year, a majority of people in these camps went home peacefully, but some just moved on to other camps—several to Kibeho. In April 1995, The Rwandan Patriotic Army attempted to close the last IDP camp at Kibeho, where many men, women, and children remained.

Official reports from the government conclude that around 2,000 people were killed while attempting to close down the camp. In his book “Africa’s World War”, Gerard Prunier estimates the real figure to be  between 20,000 and 30,000.

Last year, I attended a wedding ceremony at the Cathedral in Kibeho, where thousands of Tutsi were killed. The bride was a friend of mine, the headmistress at my village’s local secondary school. She is an orphan from the genocide.

Although the particular devoutness to the Virgin Mary stands out a bit, Kibeho is otherwise a very “normal” town. I had been to Kibeho several times before I learned of the massacres that occurred (both in 1994 against Tutsi and 1995 against Hutu), and only then I read about them in books written by Westerners—none of my Rwandan friends or colleagues have spoken to me about it. 

Virgin Mary Chapel in Kibeho

J is for JOGGING

Despite what Christopher McDougal says in his book Born to Run, I don’t think my body was built for running. But, over the last few months, slowly by slowly, in an effort to get rid of the extra pounds put on by eating copious amounts of Blue-Band (an addicting butter-substitute simply labeled “medium fat content”, that I am sure will someday cause unexplainable chemical imbalances and illnesses to my body), I have started jogging.

In urban areas across Rwanda, there seems to be a running trend that is picking up. A few times I’ve gone running in the capital city and noticed fellow Rwandan-runners wave to me, just like in suburban America. This is not true in the rural area where I live. To minimize the circus and fan club created by my feeble attempts to exercise, I begin my morning runs at 5:15 AM. In the land of a thousand hills, my runs are no easy lap around the track (but let's be honest, a lap around the track has never been easy for me).

What keeps me motivated, besides constant comments by colleagues about my weight, is the breathtaking sunrise I get to watch as I go.

I is for IRON

Rwandans are impeccable dressers. In what has probably been one of my greatest and most difficult integration attempts, I have also tried to become an impeccable dresser. This task involved purchasing an iron suited for a house without electricity. I've never enjoyed ironing, and much less when it involves lighting a charcoal fire before hand. But, some days, people tell me I look smart! 

H is for HOME

Below, a virtual tour of my home here in Rwanda-- 

G is for GLOW

The November 2011 GLOW & BE Camps in my district acted as a catalyst for the youth group I help facilitate at the local secondary school. The students named the group “Icyizero” meaning hope. We have general body meetings once a week, and the executive committee meets an additional hour per week to plan the next session.

To Peace Corps Volunteers worldwide, regardless of your sector, I highly recommend getting involved with youth. The energy and determination I see coming from the students during our club sessions makes up for all the other problems I face in my primary assignment at the health center. The students glow!  

At this year's Rwanda Southern Province GLOW & BE Camps, we had talent shows. Peace Corps Volunteers joined forces to present what can only be described as YouTube's next viral sensation-- 

F is for FLOWER

I’m no gardener, but I can tell you that the flowers around Rwanda are absolutely beautiful. Colorful wild flowers grow everywhere.