This morning, we set off for Karangera, which the Rwanda Development Board’s official Congo Nile Trail map said was 20 miles away.  The map also promised that we would find lodging there at the Karengera Secondary School.  But we never got to Karengera.

From Esperance, we hiked uphill about one quarter mile to the paved road.  Surprisingly, when we joined the paved road at the intersection with our dirt road, there was no sign for Esperance.  Thus, it was easy to see how hikers would miss it.  In fact, they would have no idea that Esperance is so close.  There was, however, a huge sign informing hikers and motorists that the Kivu Lodge, the pricey new luxury hotel, was 8 kilometers down the dirt road.  And, an equally large Congo Nile Trail sign informing hikers of the lodging choices of the Kivu Lodge or Mugonero Base Camp, but with no indication that Esperance and the Base Camp were the same.

There was also a 50 kilometer marker on the road (unclear where the 50 kilometers was from) and signs for the Congo Nile Trail, amazingly with distances.  And, a sign showing where we were headed (Mugonero – Tyazo) for a distance of 56 kilometers (about 35 miles).  Yet, we had never heard of Tyazo or seen it on any maps.  Despite being stumped, we knew that Tyazo was the direction we needed to go to find Karengera (the next stop according to the Rwanda Development Board’s official Trail map) so we headed that way.

Sad to leave the dirt trail behind, we gingerly turned right onto the paved road.  We concentrated on the positives.  It was downhill.  The pavement felt very smooth under our boots after many days of hiking on often rocky, dusty dirt trails.  It was easy walking.  But, soon the negatives surpassed the positives.  Whenever big trucks or buses passed, we jumped onto the shoulder of asphalt chunks and pebbles, which did not make for comfortable walking.  Whenever a vehicle passed spouting black fumes (no vehicle emission control laws here), we turned our heads and held our breath, trying not to inhale the soot.  We regularly turned our heads backwards, trying to be one-step ahead of large vehicles rapidly approaching from behind.

The views continued to be stunning. The road has switchbacks and snakes around the finger-like inlets or bays of Lake Kivu.

We passed cows, many people carrying large loads on their heads and gobs of kids, some asking for money.  One boy made us burst into laughter when he said, “What is your name? My name is Money.”  (I had not walked ten steps from the Esperance Guesthouse this morning when one small boy shouted, “Give me money.”)

That morning, we passed an unusual sight: a group of smiling teen-aged boys playing jump rope.  Béné and I could not help but join in the fun, taking our turns jumping while two of the boys twirled the rope, while we all reeled with laughter.

The entire morning had been overcast, and late in the morning it began to lightly rain, which felt quite lovely as it was hot. We came to an interesting market, where fruit was being sold and there were some small shops.  Still enjoying the light rain, we found a tiny restaurant and sat in a room separated by a curtain and had a cup of mukara, Rwanda’s piping hot, sweet and spicy black tea.  And, then it started to pour.  It was quite a storm and lasted a long time, but Béné and I were safe and cozy, sipping our tea and amazed at our good luck.

After walking on the road 12 miles, at the village of Rwamatamu, we were surprised to see a Congo Nile Trail sign for a dirt trail to Tyazo.  The dirt trail certainly was inviting but the trail appeared to wind down to the lake, making us pause because we did not want to hike down to the lake just to hike back up again.  We stopped to consider whether we should take that trail.  We were tempted to take it, as we were sick of the paved road.  However, we were confused, because, before today, we had never heard of Tyazo.  We re-checked the official Congo-Nile Trail map, but there was no mention of Tyazo, and we were concerned that we wouldn’t find a place to sleep.  

Coincidentally, about a dozen men were standing near that sign and so we asked them whether that was the way to Karengera.  Unanimously, they insisted that was the wrong way and that we must stay on the road.  Still perplexed, we nevertheless took their advice and stayed on the noxious road.

By this time, the road was wearing on our nerves.  My pack was heavy.  There were a lot of large trucks, local small but jam-packed Twege buses, local mid-sized buses (Nile Safari buses and Capitol buses) and the giant Ritco buses, which are the size of a Greyhound bus, all plyng this road alongside Béné and me.  Plus, there were speeding SUVs, Toyota trucks, motorcycles and bicycles careening at full speed downhill and around the curves.  I was nearly hit by a bicycle that flew past me, just inches from my elbow as I distractedly stepped back onto the pavement from the shoulder.

The scenery, of course, was gorgeous, but the chaotic traffic dampened our ability to enjoy it.  We saw rice fields, banana groves and farm plots of potatoes and cassava.  We were never alone. Children constantly called out to us. Farmers stopped their weeding and stared at us.  We encountered many people carrying their wares to and from the market, many carrying bunches of bananas on their heads and bicycles.

We saw kids gathering stones and pulling them in plastic containers cut in half with a rope attached, like a wagon without wheels.  The toys made an annoying grinding sound as the kids dragged them on the road behind us.  Many children walked in lock step with us, sometimes surrounding us and demanding money.  I used the Kinyarwanda word, considered very impolite, for “Scram!” which is “Hoshi!” – sometimes effectively and sometimes not – to get the kids to disperse.

We stopped for lunch under a small copse of trees, and a young girl came out of nowhere to stare at us and ask for money.  We ate our leftover breakfast chapatis with a can of sardines that resourceful Béné had packed. We had bananas for dessert.  Cows were lowing in the distance. Béné left the sardine can with oil in it, and the little girl immediately scooped it up even before we had left.

At another point, when I stopped to take a drink from my water bottle, we met a crazy teenager and a group of young boys who were very aggressive.  I left them my water bottle and, as I walked away, they yelled, “Give me, give me, give me!”

We saw a group of people at what looked like a bus stop.  A giant Capitol Bus the size of a Greyhound came barreling down the road, and the people flagged the bus down for us.  Surprised, we got onto the bus, which cost 1,500 francs (about $1.75).  The bus was full with no empty seats, so Béné and I sat on the floor.  Some time later, a few people got off, and I sat next to a girl who sneezed non-stop. I wondered if I could catch a second cold on top of the one I already had.  We passed Karengera, our intended destination but continued on about twice that far.

We got off the bus with most of the other passengers at a town called Kibogora.

Across from the bus stop was a large restaurant called the Godwin Shop Restaurant Bakery & Coffee House.  We stopped in for a refreshing cup of mukara.  Then we walked down a side dirt road and came to the Tyazo Lodge, which looked cozy and inviting from the outside.  The rooms had a small table and hooks for clothes and towels, flip-flops, tile floor and mosquito bed nets.  Béné and I got separate rooms, which was good because of my non-stop coughing.  The beds were comfortable with warm blankets.  It was nice to have a private bathroom.

After checking into the Lodge, we took a walk around town. Not far from the lodge, is the busy Tyazo outdoor market, selling lots of fruit, vegetables and other food staples.  We wondered if we might have arrived here if we had taken the Tyazo Trail that the men had earlier convinced us not to take.  If so, we made a big mistake because that would have been a lot more pleasant than walking on the hectic road.  However, it would have been a very long distance.

On our walk, we noted the BPR Bank with an ATM.  I found a pharmacy to buy throat lozenges.  The concerned pharmacist recommended vitamin C powder to put in my tea, so I bought some.  While wandering around town, we came upon the Kibogora Methodist Hospital Guesthouse, where we talked to a tri-lingual young man who spoke English, French and Kinyarwanda.  He explained that the guesthouse did not serve dinner, but had apartments for 15,000 to 20,000 francs per night.  We were sorry we didn’t stay there because the grounds were meticulously maintained.  This would be a good place for hikers to stay.

Bene, consummate shopper that she is, couldn’t help stopping at this colorful shop.

On a side dirt road near our lodge,  we spotted a brown Congo Nile Trail sign for “Kigaga Main Trail” and another for “Congo Nile Trail Tyazo – Kigaga.”  That sign stated that Kigaga was 34.5 kilometers (over 21 miles) away. We were extremely curious about the sign because nothing that Béné and I had read in preparation for this hike mentioned Kigaga.  So, we asked people we met in town where Kigaga was.  No one had ever heard of it.  One man suggested that maybe it was a typo and should be Kinaga instead of Kigaga.  But we couldn’t find either Kinaga or Kigaga on any maps.  We were unsure of where we would go the next day.  But, we were certain that we were sick of the paved trafficky road; thus, this trail sounded inviting.  So, Béné called Mary at the Rwanda Development Board (the tourism agency).  Mary also had no idea about Kigaga or Kinaga but gave Béné the phone number of  Benoit, whom she said was more familiar with the southern portion of the Congo Nile Trail.  Béné called and texted Benoit, but he did not respond.

We asked three different people for suggestions on where to eat dinner and we got the same answer from each – the coffee house where we had a cup of mukara earlier.  In fact, it’s the only place to eat in town, but fortunately it’s a very, very good place, with friendly staff and very popular with the locals. So, we gladly returned for dinner and ordered from the large menu.

However, our meals took so long to come (There is no fast food in Rwanda) and I was feeling so sick that I decided to go back to the lodge and lay down.  Much later, kind Béné brought me my dinner of beef brochette and eggplant garni made from Rwanda’s tiny and bitter eggplants with carrots and cabbage, as well as dodo (similar to spinach) soup, all of which were delicious.   When I was done, Béné graciously walked back to the coffee shop to return the plate, bowl and silverware that the coffee shop had sent with my meal.

When we went to bed, we had no idea what we would be doing the next day.  We wanted to continue hiking on the Congo Nile Trail, but both agreed that hiking on the road was the pits.

After a good night’s sleep, I felt better at breakfast, which was served in the lodge’s high-ceiling dining room that made us feel like royalty.  Our breakfast was an omelette with very hard rolls that were inedible with Blue Band margarine and bananas.  To drink, we had a choice of instant coffee or black tea bags.

A word about Rwandan omelettes. They are the most commonly served Rwandan breakfast.  But, unlike American omelettes, they are not folded over and stuffed with cheese and veggies.  Rather, the stirred eggs are poured into the frying pan; they cover the bottom of the pan and then are flipped over like a pancake, so the resulting omelette is relatively thin and in the shape of a plate. They sometimes have a few chopped onions in them and rarely a few bits of chopped green pepper.  The Kinyarwanda word, like the English word for omelette, derives from the French.  In Kinyarwanda, the word is spelled umulete and pronounced oo-mer-ette-ay.

 

This morning, Béné and I couldn’t agree on what to do so parted ways.  Béné wanted to get an early start.  However, I had some Peace Corps business to attend to, plus I woke up with a miserable cold, so I wasn’t able and, more to the point, was not eager to join her.  Thus, after breakfast, Béné literally hit the road, as the Trail from here on is on paved road.  She was headed for Mugonero, which she hoped was only 21 kilometers (13 miles) away and had a base camp where we could stay.  However, the information that I scoured from the internet, was that Mugonero was 20 miles away and warned that finding a place to stay there would be difficult, if not impossible.  Everything that I had read stated that the only place to stay was the Esperance Orphanage, but that it may no longer be in operation.  I had read a blog by a very strong young hiker who, just two months before, had been unable to find Esperance and so had hiked many extra miles to find a place to sleep.  Not being nearly as young or strong as that hiker and feeling sick to boot, I was not looking forward to such an ordeal.

So, I let my fingers do the walking.  But first, I looked up the Kinyarwanda word for boat: ubwato.  Then, I called a young man I knew who was an ubwato captain in Kibuye. He quoted me an even more outrageous price than Béné was given yesterday in town.  Drats!  Next, I asked the manager of the guesthouse if he knew of any boat captains, and he gave me Claude’s number (0789085982).  I called Claude and told him where we wanted to go; he replied that it would be 40,000 francs (about $46) for about 1 1/2 hour boat ride.  I agreed to meet him at 9:15 a.m. at the boat dock, which was less than a mile’s walk from the guesthouse.  I immediately called Béné who, though miles on her way on the road, did not hesitate to turn around and meet us at the boat dock. On the way, I stopped to purchase water at one of the group of small shops across from the boat dock.

The boat ride was peaceful, the scenery spectacular and Claude a delight.  After five days of hiking, Béné and I were content to simply sit backpackless, take in the 360 degree panorama views of the lake and mountains and let Claude do the work.

We reached the shore about 11:00 a.m. and Claude pointed out the direction of Mugonero.  After waving goodbye, we heaved our backpacks on.  At this point, we were not on the Congo Nile Trail.  Instead, we were on a self-selected detour.  Being at the lake’s edge, we faced an all uphill hike on a dirt road.  We hoped that it would rejoin the Congo Nile Trail at the end of the day.

We continued to meet many friendly people as we hiked through small villages.  I asked a young man where we could buy water and he directed us to a tiny dark shop where we purchased two bottles at 300 francs each.  As we climbed higher up the road, the views of the lake became more spectacular.

Nervous about not finding Esperance, I soon began asking everyone we met if it was ahead and if it was far.  My spirits were buoyed each time someone seemed to know of it and assured me that it wasn’t far.  But, it was far – and constantly uphill in the blazing sun and no shade.  We were glad to be on a dirt road, but it was rocky and steep.  We stopped a few times to catch our breath and let our heartbeats return to normal.  We saw cows, chickens and goats, as well as fields of corn and bananas.  As we had seen everyday, today we saw Rwandans hard at work in the fields.  Béné bought two bananas from a shop and we sat on the side of the road as we snacked on them.  Afterwards, we threw the peels to grateful goats. Once, we stopped to talk to two young men, who asked us if we were married.  I responded by asking one of them if he wanted to marry Béné, and he became very embarrassed and sputtered, “No, it is not possible.”

After one hour and 45 minutes, we came upon the back of a Congo Nile Trail sign.  I walked around to the front of the sign and was surprised to read “Mugonero base camp.” We turned in the direction of the sign and saw the word “Esperance” written on the side of a building. Esperance turned out to be a TVET school, a high school. (TVET, standing for Technical, Vocational Education and Training.)  A man named Johan greeted us, asking if we spoke French or English. He said he spoke French and was delighted when Béné responded to him in her perfect French, which has come in handy many times on our adventure.  He explained in French that the Mugonero base camp and Esperance are one and the same place. He took us through the school grounds and past many  flourishing vegetable gardens to a building with a colorful flower garden in front.  Inside was a large sitting room with two huge containers of filtered water.  On one side was a bathroom with a makeshift shower made from a calabash, and a bedroom.  On the other side of the sitting room were two more bedrooms.   Just outside the door was the latrine with a wooden seat.

 

Béné and I chose a room with two twin beds (with mosquito nets), which was spotlessly clean.  For 15,000 francs (just over $17 each), we got our shared room, dinner and breakfast.  Our engaging host, Prince, (who speaks excellent English) told us that the guesthouse can accommodate up to twenty people and that it had been an orphanage but is now a secondary school specializing in agriculture.  Prince explained that the orphanage, which was funded by German church groups, closed in 2014, then switched to a secondary school.  Observing the many meticulously cared for gardens, I could see that the school was proud of its work.  Prince also told us that the last hiker who stayed at Esperance came through a week earlier.  (Scovia and John at Musasa Homestay had told us the same thing.  Indeed, we never saw any other hikers on the Trail.)  The school’s students were gone for the Christmas vacation so the grounds were quiet.

Our dinner and breakfast were served to us by the cook in our sitting room.   For dinner, we had the best vegetable soup that I’ve ever eaten in my life.  It was chocked full of vegetables – asombé (a leafy green that is similar to, but different from, spinach) and potatoes in a tomato base, accompanied by gargantuan homemade buns.  Our dessert was bananas.  There was also a large thermos of hot water for us to make tea.  Our sitting room had a cabinet with boxes of black and green Rwandan tea bags to choose from.

The sitting room contained lots of games, including Dominoes and Uno.  Hikers leave all kinds of things, like sunscreen and games, hoping that someone else can use them.

After settling in, we roamed the beautiful grounds, particularly enjoying the many paintings on the buildings.

And, we saw a cow being taken to be slaughtered.

I was impressed with the neat, sturdy and functional latrine building erected for the students by Engineers Without Borders.

And, I enjoyed the numerous attractive well-tended gardens, some of which are in the photos below.

Our breakfast the next morning was a scrumptious omelette sandwich:  two chapatis with bits of leafy greens in them and an omelette inside.  The chapatis were the best I’ve had in Rwanda, and the eggs, laid by the school’s obviously organic chickens, were the brightest yellow-orange I’ve ever seen.  For fruit, we had big bananas from the school’s own grove.  To drink, we had a choice of hot Rwandan green or black tea. We saved one of the chapatis to have for lunch.

Some comments about Esperance’s location.  We found it easily because we came to it from the lake, not the Congo Nile Trail.  It is actually not on the Congo Nile Trail but rather on a dirt road that is off the main trail, which is probably why some hikers have had difficulty finding it.  Esperance is a lovely place and would meet any hiker’s needs.  However, there is an alternative place to stay for well-heeled travelers seeking luxury.  (Rooms are over 200,000 francs, which is over $230.)  The Kivu Lodge is perhaps an hour’s hike from Esperance downhill and thus much further from the Congo Nile Trail. We were surprised to see it when our boat docked near it.  As beautiful as it appears to be, I bet it’s not anywhere as interesting as sweet and lovely Esperance!

From the Trip Adviser website:

“The new Kivu Lodge is now open for business. The lodge is located on a small piece of land that juts into the calm waters of the Lake Kivu in Karongi District. The lodge boasts 20 spacious cottages, 2 of which are executive suites. It also has a restaurant, coffee bar and lounge bar. It boasts an outdoor cascading swimming pool overlooking the waters of the Lake Kivu. All the rooms offer stunning views of the Lake Kivu. They also have private balconies. The lodge is located on a private peninsula on Lake Kivu. It is surrounded by a private coffee plantation.”

 

7:45 a.m. to 1:15 p.m. (5 1/2 hours) from Musasa to Mushabati.

We were pensive today, knowing this to be our last day on the dirt portion of the Congo Nile Trail and not knowing what to expect after today.  With every breath and every bend of the trail, we tried to memorize the changing scenery and the feelings it evoked in us.  We smiled and greeted everyone we met.  We didn’t want it to end.

However, the dirt portion of the Congo Nile Trail ends abruptly at Mushabati.  Once the dirt part of the Trail ends, the Congo Nile Trail is on the road.  When we got to the end of the dirt trail in Mushabati, it was a quite a shock and felt anti-climatic. We had been enjoying hiking on the dirt trails through breathtaking scenery and chatting with friendly villagers and children.  Now, we were stunned.  When the trail ends, it’s not gradual; it suddenly turns into a paved road. It is marked by a stop sign, which felt abrasive and other-worldy to us, after having hiked for four days on dirt trails and roads.  As we reached the stop sign, a horde of motorcycle drivers rushed at us, competing for our business.  They were disappointed when we declined, shouting “Oya, oya” (no, no) so that they’d stay away.

We had had no idea what to expect at Mushabati.  We had actually thought we might sleep here. However, Mushabati is simply a waypoint; it has no restaurants, no guesthouses, nothing of interest. At this point, most hikers officially end the hike because the beautiful and serene part of the hike is over; the rest, as we would eventually discover, consists of walking on a very busy road. So, here, the majority of hikers, having completed their hike, travel via bus or motorcycle taxi into the nearby city of Kibuye (The new name is Karongi, but most people still call it Kibuye) to spend the night.  We, however, had the crazy idea that we could take a boat on Lake Kivu from Mushabati to Kibuye.

So, once we waved the motorcycle drivers aside, Béné went into the Sunrise Bar conveniently located across the street from the trail’s end to buy a cold coke and get information.  She used her French to speak with an elderly man about how we could take a boat from Mushabati to Kibuye.  Unfortunately, he told her it was impossible, that we were too far from Lake Kivu.  With our plan to take a boat dashed, we bought tickets for the Kivu Belt bus for 1,000 francs (about $1.15) each and then waited about forty minutes in the hot sun at the bus stop near the end of the trail for a bus to Kibuye.  After some time, it started to rain, so all of us waiting for the bus darted across the street to huddle under an MTN (company that sells cell phone time) umbrella.  The bus ride took about one hour from Mushabati to the Kibuye bus station, which is conveniently located right in the city.

In Kibuye, there are many banks and ATM machines.  There is also a big covered outdoor market, where I purchased two bandanas for 500 francs (about 56 cents) each to cover my seriously sunburned wrists.  There are also plenty of pharmacies, and I went to a few before I found one selling sun screen for 10,000 francs ($11.10).  I also purchased band aids for my blistered toes.  In town, Béné was talking to boat captains trying to find a reasonably priced boat trip for our next leg of the journey, as we had decided it would be more fun to take a boat than to walk on a busy road with lots of traffic. Unfortunately, all the prices quoted were exorbitant.  Discouraged, we resigned ourselves to hiking on the road.

We walked from the center of the city up a steep hill and around a couple of bends to our guesthouse, Home St. Mary’s, its actual French name being “Accueil de St. Marie,” where we arrived about 4:30 p.m. and found individual rooms for 6,000 francs (less than $7) each.  The bathroom, which had only cold water, was clean, shared and down a hallway.  Our rooms were big, with a concrete floor.  Each had a double bed (though mine dipped in the middle) with a mosquito net, desk, chair, bookcase and a nightstand.  There were hooks on the wall to hang clothes.  The windows had screens and it was peaceful and quiet.  Two other guests, not hikers, were staying at this guesthouse.  The grounds are beautifully landscaped.

After settling in, we bathed and I nursed my irksome blisters.  Then, we walked down the hill and around a bend to another Catholic guesthouse, Home St. Jean, for dinner.  Home St. Jean sits on a hill overlooking a bay of Lake Kivu, so the views are gorgeous. As soon as we reached Home St. Jean, it began to pour.  So, we enjoyed our dinner to the sound of the rain and thinking how lucky we had been not to have been caught in rain yet.  I had fish brochettes, French fries and a raw salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots and onions.  Béné had a whole fish. We celebrated reaching the “sort of” halfway mark of the Congo Nile Trail by having a Primus Citron, Rwanda’s lemon-flavored beer.  Two hours after we arrived, when we left to return to our guesthouse, it was still raining, so we walked back in the rain.

The next morning, our breakfast was basic. Unlike most guesthouses and hotels in Rwanda, here breakfast was not included in the room price, but was 2,500 francs (less than $3) extra and disappointing. The service was lackluster. There was no coffee. The breakfast consisted of a paper-thin omelet with chopped onions inside and a slice of tomato on top, plus bread.

 

 

5 hours 40 minutes.  7:40 a.m. to 1:20 p.m.  I have no idea what the mileage was.  The signage for the trail is generally quite good but provides no distances.  It would be easy to add mileage or kilometers to the signs, but alas that has not been done.  I could have used my phone to track mileage, but I didn’t want to use up my battery and not have enough power to take photos.  

The shortcut trail from our guesthouse in Kinunu was single-track with beautiful views of the lake and quite hilly with lots of ups and downs.  We encountered lots of kids, all asking for money (amafaranga)  or agacupa (pronounced aga-chupa, meaning a small bottle, referring to our water bottles, which we were glad to give away when empty).  

At one point, we came to a T-intersection with no signs telling us which way to turn.  We were flummoxed; should we go right or left?  Of course, a throng of kids descended on us as soon as we stopped, so we asked them which way to Musasa, and they had no idea.  So, after scratching our heads for a few moments, we decided to go right, which turned out to be wrong.  After walking a short distance, we met a group of adults and asked in Kinyarwanda where Musasa was.  A woman pointed the other way, so we turned around and retraced our steps.  Not long after, a young man joined us and wanted to be our guide.  However, by this time, we were fairly certain that we could just follow the single-track trail.  Finally, after a lot of ups and downs, we saw a Congo-Nile Trail sign and joined the official trail.  Because we took the shortcut (which I don’t think was any shorter or easier than the official trail), we bypassed the actual town of Kinunu, which is at the top of another mountain.  

The views all day were spectacular.  We stopped at the village at the junction of the Congo-Nile Trail to buy water.  Today was super hot with almost no shade. And, the many hills made us sweat even more.  

In the afternoon, we had hiked a very long time without finding a place to buy water.  The last place we had bought water was in the morning.  We entered a village and strangely saw no place to purchase water.  So, we asked a villager, who led us to a dark and tiny store.  We asked for four bottles, but the shopkeeper had only two.  We sat down on two wooden stools that he kindly brought out for us.  Then, someone entered the store, bringing us two more bottles of water, all for 300 francs each.  

On our first day, we had seen sheep, but not today.  Instead, we saw turkeys, cows, chickens, goats and black pigs on this portion of the Trail. 

We discovered that goats love banana peels and so, for the rest of the hike, we saved our banana peels to give to the goats.  

Before arriving in Musasa, we got to a sign for Musasa Base Camp.  Bene walked further down the road in search of the base camp but found only a coffee plantation.

Much later, our hosts at the Musasa Guesthouse informed us that there is no base camp, that nothing is there anymore.  Yet, the sign remains, continuing to lure and confuse hikers.  It would be easy for the Rwanda Development Board to remove the sign, but they have not.  

Thus, we returned to the main trail and continued to the town of Musasa, actually to the beginning of the town because it extends for miles sporadically around.  At a small store where we stopped to rest and drink water, I asked if the Musasa Guesthouse was near, and everyone in the shop assured me that it was.  In fact, it was least two miles further up three grueling hills in relentless equatorial sun and no shade.  By this time, my forearms were quite sunburned.  (I had not thought to pack sunscreen despite living in Rwanda which is located just south of the equator, and I suffered for it.) Although I wore a long-sleeved shirt, my wrists and some of my forearms were exposed from being horizontal due to my using hiking poles. Fortunately, I had packed a baseball style cap to protect my face and wore long hiking pants, as shorts are not generally approved of in Rwanda.  Climbing each hill and drained by the unsparing sun, I asked people I met if the guesthouse was ahead, and all assured me that it was by pointing in the direction we were going and replying, “Yego,” which means yes.

Finally, after the third agonizing hill, we came to another small village, also part of Musasa.  First, we saw a fairly large Genocide Memorial on our right.  (Later, after resting and rehydrating, as I walked through the village accompanied by a friendly villager, I was advised that no photos of the memorial were permitted, and I respected that.)   Then, we saw a mosque on our left.  Across from the mosque, on the right side of the road is the Musasa Homestay.  It has very obvious signage.  We were so happy, though sweaty and exhausted, to have finally arrived at our day’s destination.

I walked through the front door and collapsed on a chair at the table and called, “Muraho,” the greeting for someone you haven’t met before or someone you haven’t seen in a long time.  Instantly, Scovia appeared.  Scovia is a most warm and lovely young woman, who is from Uganda.  Although her English is basic, her engaging smile and eagerness to help more than makes up for it.  Later, we met the other worker at the homestay, Modisha John, also Ugandan and equally friendly and eager to be of service.  

Before embarking on the Congo Nile Trail, I had read blogs by previous hikers, one of whom gushed about how wonderful the Musasa Homestay and its hosts were.  She liked it so much that she stayed two nights.  I was skeptical that it could be so pleasant, but indeed it was – all thanks to our two delightful hosts.  Béné and I, too, loved this place.  In fact, it was easily our favorite of all the places we stayed while on the Trail.

The homestay has three guest rooms, all at 10,000 francs (less than $12) per person, including  a bountiful breakfast.  There are two small single rooms and a larger room with a double bunk bed.  Though small, the rooms are neat, clean and perfectly adequate, with bed nets to keep away mosquitoes. We were each given a towel.  We paid our 10,000 francs and ordered dinner from a menu.  We also ordered our next morning’s breakfast.  The Musasa Homestay has a fridge stocked with cold fantas and beer (Primus, Primus Citron, Heineken and Turbo King), as well as water.  The biggest surprise was a box of red wine on a kitchen shelf!

The large entrance room has a large wooden table adorned with bright place mats.  We would eat our meals here.  

There is a sign near the door stating that the homestay is owned by Green Hills Ecotours, the tour company in Gisenyi (Rubavu) that we never found open.  So, it’s not really a homestay, i.e., staying in a family’s home.  Rather, the hosts are paid to live at the homestay, but perhaps that made it better.

The homestay’s toilet in the rear of the compound is a pit latrine. 

Everything is clean.  The toilet is stocked with toilet paper and there is a hand washing station outside.  In the same area, there is a bathroom where we took our bucket baths. John and Scovia will do hikers’ laundry if they want.

But Béné and I did our own laundry and hung it on the lines in the private courtyard in the back of the house.

Here is Bene hanging laundry in the courtyard.

Dinner was delicious and filling: fish brochettes and a fresh salad of cucumbers, tomatoes and onions (a popular Rwandan specialty), as well as French fries. And, of course, Béné and I celebrated with a glass of the boxed red wine.  

This was the only place we stayed that did not provide a pair of flip-flops under the bed, a Rwandan guesthouse tradition.  But, that was no problem for us as we had packed our flip-flops.  That night, we slept peacefully in the comfy beds.  At around 3 a.m., I awoke to a gentle rain, but fell immediately back to sleep.  When I awoke in the morning, the rain had stopped and the air was fresh.  

Our breakfast, not surprisingly, was substantial and delicious – a perfect hiker’s breakfast.  Béné opted for the French toast, and I had the crepes.  Both were accompanied by  a plateful of bananas, passion fruit, oranges and pineapple. And, of course, there was coffee.

After breakfast, we sadly said our goodbyes to Scovia and John who could not have been friendlier or nicer.

Musasa was the highlight of all the places we visited along the Trail, due to our wonderful hosts at the Homestay, the fabulous food they prepared for us and the friendly and curious townspeople.  We were sad to leave.

My house has been eerily quiet for the last two days.  I had grown accustomed to listening to the constant chatter of the many thousands of bats living around me. I learned to sleep through it; in many ways, it was like background music.  I was always aware of it but never distracted by it.  It seemed like the bat population increased exponentially daily.  Their chatter became louder and louder.  However, they never bothered me.  I never saw bat guano.  They never entered my house.  They simply inhabited the tree in front of my house and the trees around my house and in the neighboring field.  Every branch of each tree had clusters of bats, shoulder to shoulder or more aptly wing to wing.  More than a hundred in each tree, I’d guess.  I found them interesting and wondered what they were chatting or bickering about.  Below are photos taken from my bedroom window on a normal morning before they were forced out.

But now they are gone, gone to who knows where. The week before last, the town started cutting down the trees a few blocks away where bats also lived.  I asked a friend where will the bats go when their trees are cut down, and he replied, “To the forest where they belong.”  “What forest?” I asked, “All the forests around here have been cut down for firewood or for places for people to live.” “They will find a forest,” he assured me. I could not help thinking that perhaps they will go to Nyungwe Forest, a national park about five hours drive away.  They will be happy there, I thought, because there are no people, only occasional hikers who rarely go beyond the edges of the forest.  And, the many species of monkeys in the national forest won’t mind the bats.

“And, the beautiful tall fir trees that lined the edges of the street,” I groused to my friend, “are now gone.  Even if new trees are planted, they will take so long to grow again to that size.”  “No matter,” he consoled me, “The bats are very annoying to people.”  And, he was not even aware, as I had recently learned, that some bats may carry the Ebola virus, though they can only transfer it through bodily fluids.  Researchers believe that a 2013 Ebola outbreak in Guinea, a West African country, began when a 2-year old boy was playing under a tree that was a roosting place for bats infected with the virus.  Fortunately, I did not play under the bat-inhabited trees surrounding my house, though I often stood under the trees while craning my neck and staring up at the scores of bats hanging upside down or taking off en masse.

Many African countries control bats by catching or shooting them and eating them.  Bats are mammals and full of protein.  In fact, when I was a young Peace Corps volunteer living in Ghana, West Africa in the early 1970s, I encountered bats as a meal.  Being a big believer of the adage “When in Rome, do as the Romans,” I overcame my reluctance to eating bats and ate a skewered and roasted bat.  When I was asked what it tasted like, I glibly responded, “Like chicken.”  However, Rwandans do not eat bats. My Cameroonian students, seeing the battles with the multitudes of bats, clucked “Why don’t they just eat the bats?”  Without humans, it seemed that the bats here had no predators and, thus, the bat population in town was out of control.

Belatedly, I searched the internet for less drastic alternatives to getting rid of noxious bats.  High pitched sounds is one means.  Because bats operate by sonar to catch their prey and to avoid bumping into one another in flight, they are particularly sensitive to any noise.  Another means is the tried and true scare crow, which doesn’t actually have to look like a person but can be anything that moves providing the sense that something else has taken up residence in their tree and conveying the message that it’s time for them to move on.  I learned that tying balloons or old shiny CDs onto branches of a tree was often enough to convince the bats to move on.  Tying CDs or balloons onto tree branches sounds like a lot of work, but it’s certainly less strenuous than cutting down a tree, doesn’t kill the tree and seems to me to be at least be worth a try.

But the town cut down all of the trees, using local prison labor to do so.  (The men in orange have already been convicted; the men in pink are still awaiting trial.)

Although I was aghast that the prisoners were cutting down the tree in my front yard, I nevertheless thanked them for their work and rewarded all of them with amandazi (Rwanda’s version of donuts).  While the hard-working and congenial prisoners cut down the trees, throngs of local children arrived to collect the smaller pieces as kindling to take home to their mothers to use as firewood for cooking.  Below are the prisoners finishing the job of cutting down the tree in my front yard.

Below is the felled tree in front of my house, stripped down to the trunk by children.  This morning, sturdy young men were already sawing the felled trees into smaller chunks to be carted away to make fires for cooking. As the trees were being cut down, the bats were going crazy, their normal jabber turned to panicked shrieks of alarm as they escaped the trees and filled the skies in search of a new home.  Soon, there will not even be a memory of the trees and the swarms of bats that once made their homes in them.

Our total hike was 5 1/2 hours today.  7:45 a.m to 1:15 p.m.

We waved goodbye to our sweet guesthouse in Cyimbiri but not before getting the directions for the shortcut to rejoin the Trail.  This saved us having to hike back up the long hill to reach the Trail.  Not only was the shortcut shorter, it was beautiful, at first hugging the edge of Lake Kivu, then moving inland through lush tall grasses, beautiful flowers and a coffee plantation and then to Nkora Fisher Village.

Later, we hiked through a village with vendors sitting on the side of the road, selling huge, gorgeous mushrooms.  We saw corn growing everywhere – rows growing in gardens between houses, as well as huge fields running up and down the sides of the steep mountains on both sides of the road.  And, of course, bananas and plantain.

Today’s hike was shorter and easier.  The trail was not so hilly or rocky.  There were throngs of kids –  some charming and some annoying, relentlessly asking for money, water, a bottle, ijana (Rwanda’s 100 franc coin, about 11 cents).  Several adults today asked for ijana.  We simply smiled and said, “Oya” (no).    

We stopped for Mukara mid-morning and drank our tea surrounded by ten or twelve kids, a crowd of young men and one elderly man, who stunned me by grabbing my hiking sticks and threatening the kids with them, shouting at them to go away and leave us alone.  The kids all instantly ran away, but gradually some sheepishly reappeared.  They offered to find us bananas but we said we didn’t want any.  

Bathroom breaks on the trail are problematic because you are never alone; someone is always watching you.  Fortunately, because of the heat, despite drinking lots of tea and water, we seldom needed a bathroom break.  However, in one town this afternoon, I did.  So, I asked a shopkeeper where to go and he took me across the street and past several houses and past a woman bathing (we smiled and greeted each other) to a latrine, probably his family’s.  I paid him ijana, 100 francs, as that is what I’ve paid in towns and cities to use a public restroom.

More photos of the trail.  MTN is the most popular phone company.  One can add money to one’s cell phone at any of MTN’s numerous yellow kiosks throughout the country.

The bridges all are wooden.  This is one of the longer bridges.

We came to a village and what looked like a fun restaurant.  We asked if it was open but  were told that it was still in the planning phase and had not yet opened for business.  Hopefully, future hikers can stop here for a beer.  Icyerekezo means Vision, a popular name for shops in Rwanda.

When we got near to Kinunu, I called the Kinunu Guesthouse.  I was told that one room was 45,000 francs with 2 twin beds, including breakfast.  So, we looked for the Kinunu Basecamp, a campground, but couldn’t find it, despite seeing signs for it. 

However,  we did see signs to turn left for Rushel Lodge, which we later learned has luxury tent camping.  Instead, we turned right to look for Kinunu Basecamp.  We passed the Kinunu Guesthouse and a little further down the road stopped to sit so I could call the Rushel Lodge to check their prices, when a very young woman came towards us from the Kinunu Guesthouse.  We told her that 45,000 francs was too expensive for us, and she responded that they had rooms for 15,000 francs.  So, we followed her to the Guesthouse but another young woman, who was working at the reception desk, said that the room with 2 twin beds was 45,000.  Again, we said that that was too expensive, but she offered no alternative.  Then, Béné asked if there was a dormitory, and the woman replied yes and that it was 10,000 but did not include breakfast.  Then, she added dreamily that there was an apartment for 15,000 each, with breakfast, so we jumped at that.  Of course, they didn’t take credit cards, cash only.  The women weren’t friendly but I think it was due to language; they were very uncomfortable speaking English.  

It wasn’t really an apartment, just three bedrooms (each with 2 twin beds) and one bathroom for all three bedrooms.  We had the entire apartment to ourselves, but chose to sleep together in one of the bedrooms.  Each of our beds had a bed net.  The woman gave us each a towel so we could shower.  Béné asked for a bucket so we could wash our clothes.  And, we laid them on the bushes to dry.  

The Kinunu Guesthouse is quiet but not on the beach as we had hoped and as others have said.  But, it is near the shore, actually up a hill and across the road from the shore. So, after setting out our clothes to dry, we crossed the road and walked down the hill to the beach, where there is a park with two ragged hammocks that did not look at all inviting and a swing set which we tried out and found fun.  Afterwards, we returned to the road and walked to the Rushel Lodge to do more exploring. 

The Rushel Lodge is quite lovely and upscale, with gorgeous grounds and a large beautiful beach. In addition to rooms, they have luxury tents for $50/night, including sleeping bags.  While we were enjoying sitting on the beautiful beach, it started to rain, so we went to the restaurant for dinner.   I had a Virunga Mist beer and a fish brochettes plate. For dessert, I ordered the carrot cake, but it was disappointing because it looked and tasted like bland pound cake.  The total cost was 8,000 francs, about $9.00. 

While waiting for our meal, we met Eric, an interesting American who had founded Marmot, the outdoor gear company, and went on to other endeavors.  He came to Rwanda in 2007, fell in love with Rwanda and a Rwandan woman and decided to stay, marry and start a business selling cooking stoves that use wood pellets, eliminating the toxic smoke associated with cooking with charcoal or firewood.  Not only are his stoves better for the environment than chopping down trees, they are healthier for the households that use them.  Before coming to Rwanda, and not knowing what my accommodations would be like or if I’d have facilities for cooking, I had discovered Eric’s stoves on the internet and kept them in mind in case I would need to buy one.  It turned out that I didn’t need the pellet stove because my house had electricity and, when I arrived at my site, my Peace Corps supervisor convinced me to buy an electric stove top, which I put into my kitchen and then never used, since I always eat out.  (I’ve since given the stove top to three of my former Cameroonian students who opened up a restaurant in town.)   Coincidentally, a few days before we met Eric, the New York Times ran this article about him and his environmentally-friendly stoves.

After dinner, we returned to our guesthouse for a sound sleep.  The next morning at 6:30 a.m., we had another filling breakfast, which included an omelet, buns, fruit (pineapple and bananas) and coffee, hot milk or tea (Rwandan green or black tea bags).  We took two of the small bananas for the road.  The same two women served us, but they spoke very little English and had no information on the Trail.  However, one of the women kindly walked us to the start of the short-cut trail that begins just to the left of the entrance to the Rushel Lodge. Without her help, we would never have found this connector trail and would have been forced to climb the hill back to the main trail.

 

After learning that I’d be coming to Rwanda as a Peace Corps Response volunteer, I tried to learn everything I could about the country.  Imagine my glee when I discovered the Congo Nile Trail, which stretches along the entire western border of the country, often within sight of the shores of Lake Kivu, the great lake that separates Rwanda from the Democratic Republic of Congo and which, according to the Rwanda Development Board (Rwanda’s Tourist Office), is 227 kilometers (140.74 miles) long.  I packed my hiking boots and poles, and from the moment I arrived in Rwanda I plotted how and when I would hike the trail. The school where I’m teaching conveniently had a break in December, and I had saved my vacation days to hike the trail.  When I told my Rwandan co-workers about my plans to hike the Congo Nile Trail, they all asked, “But, why?”  The only answer I could think of was “Because it’s there.”

I was delighted when my friend Béné decided to join me. Although her Peace Corps service ended December 11th, Béné stayed in Rwanda to hike the trail. After signing all the paperwork to end her service, she rushed to board a bus to Nyanza so we could make our final preparations for the hike and leave together the next day.

The trail is called the Congo Nile Trail because it skirts the Congo-Nile Divide that separates the areas of land that drain west into the Congo River, which is one of the world’s longest rivers and is in the Democratic Republic of Congo, from the areas of land that drain east into the Nile River, the longest river in the world.  According to the Nile Basin Initiative, a partnership of countries for the development of the water resources of the Nile River, Rwanda has two hydrographic basins: The Congo River basin, which covers 33% of Rwanda, and the Nile River basin, which covers the other 67% of the country.  Streams flowing west of the divide flow into the Congo River, while those flowing east of the divide flow into the Nile River.  The picture to the left shows just how long the Nile River is, especially when combined with its White Nile tributary that flows into Rwanda.

The White Nile, one of two tributaries of the Nile River, has its source in either Rwanda or Burundi (Rwanda’s southern neighbor).  Which country is actually the source of the White Nile is up to debate, but it’s somewhere near the border of the two countries in the forest that straddles the border between them.  The Nile River flows north from its source in southern Rwanda to Egypt.

Credit for finding the source of the Nile in Rwanda goes to the dapper German, Richard Kandt, one of the first European explorers in this area.  He was the first person to trek the Congo Nile Trail, though of course it wasn’t called that at the time.  He explored that area from 1897 to 1898 and, while doing so, claimed to have discovered the source of the Nile in Nyungwe Forest in southwestern Rwanda.  Between 1899 and 1901, he drew the first map of Lake Kivu, which would later be used to establish the boundaries between the Belgian Congo (now Democratic Republic of Congo) and Rwanda, which was then part of German East Africa. The European colonists would later use the Congo-Nile Divide to designate the boundary between British and German-controlled territories to the east and the French and Belgian-controlled territories to the west.

However, I cared less about the hydrographic and colonial history of the trail’s name than about the trail itself and the chance to hike the entire length of Rwanda on its westernmost edge, experience the beauty of Rwanda and interact with literally hundreds of friendly Rwandans.  What follows is my experience on the trail in December of 2018 and my recommendations for future hikers.

Day 0 – Rubavu (Preparation for the trail) (Wednesday, Dec. 12, 2018)

It had been raining every day for the last four days, and this morning was no exception.  We were prepared for rain.  Plastic grocery bags are banned in Rwanda, so plastic bags are not easy to find.  However, for months, I’d been hoarding every plastic bag I could find, including the small plastic bags (the size of a sandwich bag) that napkins are sold in.  I had amassed enough plastic bags that I could put every article of my clothing in a plastic bag and had extras to share with Béné.  We also packed umbrellas and rain jackets. We expected a lot of rain during the hike and did not want to have wet clothes inside a wet backpack.  We packed as lightly as we could, but our backpacks still felt heavy.

We took a crowded Volcano bus from Nyanza, with our backpacks on our laps, to Nyabugogo, the chaotic central bus station in Rwanda’s capital city, Kigali, coincidentally founded by German explorer Richard Kandt, where we transferred to another bus going to Rubavu (formerly, and sometimes still, called Gisenyi).  After more than five hours of travel from Nyanza to Rubavu, we were happy to get off the bus.  Unfortunately, we missed the stop where we should have alighted and rode to the end, resulting in having to walk an extra mile to get back to where we should have gotten off.

Because Béné was eager to get information on the Congo Nile Trail, the first thing we did was to look for the Rwanda Development Board (RDB) office, which is Rwanda’s tourism office.  RDB is supposed to have up-to-date information on the trail. Although prior hikers who have recounted their experiences on line were uniformly of the view that RDB was useless when it came to information about the Congo Nile Trail, Béné, spewing with optimism, was determined to prove them wrong.  I was not so sure, and, based on the negative comments on-line, would have skipped RDB entirely, but reluctantly traipsed after Béné on her quest to find RDB.

We walked and walked and walked and, after asking many people, finally found the office next to the S & P petrol station near Lake Kivu, but the office was closed at 5:30 p.m. when we finally reached it.  In addition, we found the office of Green Hills Ecotours, which also is supposed to have information on the trail but, alas, it too was closed. However, next door to the closed Green Hill Ecotours was a well-stocked grocery store, where we purchased some snacks: peanut butter, Laughing Cow cheese and chocolate.

Rubavu is a beautiful town along the lake, with majestic palm trees and a sandy beach.  It has a grand beautifully landscaped boulevard along the northern shore of the lake.  The market part of town, away from the lake, is congested, but hikers can likely pick up last minute things for the trail there.  It is impossible to find a car taxi in Rubavu, but motorcycle taxis are ubiquitous, as they are all over Rwanda.  However, it’s easy to walk to most places.

Unable to find any trail information, we checked into the first hotel we saw, which was the Discover Rwanda Hostel, which happens to be the former Belgian colonial governor’s mansion.  It sits on a large and exquisitely landscaped property in a fabulous and convenient location, just a short walk to town and across from the beach on Lake Kivu, where the sunset was amazing, and, most importantly, near the first sign for the Congo Nile Trail.  Although it was a bit worn down now, we could envision the mansion’s bygone days of grandeur. There were only four of us spending the night there: my fellow hiker, Béné, and me, plus a traveling couple we had met while getting off our bus.

Béné and I shared a room that was in a separate smaller building, tucked into the backyard, a short walk from the stately former governor’s  mansion.  Our room had bunk beds, each with its own mosquito net and a tiny but private bathroom.

After dropping our backpacks off in our room, we walked into town to find an ATM.  (There were many choices, as there are many banks in Rubavu). With a little money in our pockets, we looked for a place for dinner and luckily found the No Stress Café Bar & Restaurant, which was next to our favorite grocery store, and which had pleasant, not overly loud, music and outdoor tables.  I had fish brochettes with a salad of tomatoes, onions, carrots & cucumbers, washed down by a Primus Citron beer (or maybe two.  Heck, we were going to hike the trail the next day).  The young women who checked us in at the Discovery Rwanda Hostel had recommended only the Aubergine restaurant, which was farther away, for dinner.  Our friends went there and said it was fine, but we were glad to have found the No Stress Café, which, true to its name, was absolutely free of stress.

We slept soundly that night.  In the morning, we had no water in our bathroom, but it wasn’t a problem because the main governor’s mansion had water in the bathroom.  The breakfast was perfect for hikers: eggs, bread, fruit (banana, passion fruit & pineapple), plus coffee or tea. We each paid 17,000 francs (less than $20) for our room and breakfast.  In Rwanda, the room rate almost always includes a sumptuous breakfast.  Our friends chose to stay in the dormitory so paid a little less.

Day 1 – Rubavu to Rubona (Thursday, Dec. 13, 2018) (about 7 kilometers)

The next morning, we delayed departing until the RDB office opened because Béné was determined to give RDB a chance to provide trail information.  We were jubilant to find the office open.  However, the man in charge did not speak English.  Fortunately, Béné sprung into action with her French.  But, even in French, he had no information to give us and only a single map (his last, he said) for the two of us.  Since it was after 9:00 a.m., we also tried to go to Green Hills Ecotours, but they were still closed. Despite our paucity of information, we were eager to hit the trail. Before our trip, meticulous Béné had visited the RDB office in Kigali, the capital, which also did not have maps, but they gave Béné the phone number of Mary, whom they said was knowledgeable about the trail.  So, we felt we had a lifeline if anything went amiss.

Most hikers do not count the seven kilometer paved road from Rubavu to the brewery in Rubona as part of the trail; instead, they consider the beginning of the trail to be at the brewery because that is where the dirt trail begins.  But not me.  The first sign for the Congo Nile Trail is in Rubavu, just a short walk from our hostel and the RDB office, and near the lake.  So that was my official start of the trail.  We were elated to finally take our first steps from that sign.

Not long after we began our hike, we saw a sign for an Italian restaurant and an another for an Indian restaurant.  Those would have been additional choices for last night’s dinner, but the staff at our hostel apparently was unaware of those restaurants and so did not mention them.

Almost immediately, kids were attracted to us, asking for “amafaranga” (money).  We would eventually get used to their refrain of “Give me money” or “Give me my money,” but on the first day, it grated.  Béné enjoyed conversing with the children, but was not enamored of the kids who ran to greet us and then walked at a snail’s pace in front of us or surrounding us, slowing us down.  We stopped to buy some champagne mangos for ijana (100 francs or 12 ½ cents) from a woman selling them on the side of the road, Béné carefully inspecting them to find the ripest.  We sat on the side of the road eating them, sweet mango juice dripping down the sides of our mouths.

We passed many people, who called to us “Muzungu” (white person or westerner) which we were accustomed to, having lived in Rwanda for ten months.  We greeted everyone. We passed a woman selling chickens, as well as men and women carrying eggplants, avocados, wood, sugar cane and coal.  We passed lots of tiny shops, selling provisions like water, juice, soda, biscuits, bread and Rwandan donuts, which are called amandazi.

When people asked where we were going, we told them “The Congo Nile Trail,” but, they did not understand.  However, when Béné used her French accent to say, “Congo Nil” (Congo pronounced with a long “o” and nil pronounced kneel), they got it.

It was a pleasant walk with little vehicular traffic to Rubona, a small picturesque but thriving town on the shore of Lake Kivu with several choices of lodging.

When we arrived at Rubona’s intersection, we had our first view of the brewery and had to make a decision – whether to hike 15.5 miles more or stay here.  We both felt good and thought the additional miles would be doable, but Rubona looked like such an inviting place that we decided to stay and explore it and were glad we did.  Therefore, instead of continuing straight to the brewery, we turned right and stopped at the “Simple Café,” aptly named for its lovely, quiet simplicity,  for a cup of “mukara” (Rwanda’s piping hot black sweet and spicy tea) and snacked on a wedge of the cheese Béné had purchased in Rubavu.

As we left the restaurant, it started to lightly rain. Boat captains occasionally stopped us, asking us if we’d like to take a boat ride on the lake, but we declined. We continued hiking to the Paradis Malahide Guesthouse, which we reached just as the sky opened up to a heavy downpour, sealing our decision to call it a day and stay in Rubona.  This was the first and, amazingly, only rain we encountered on the entire trail.

The Paradis Malahide is owned by Rwandans and is a beautiful, upscale and not inexpensive ($90/night for a double, including breakfast) inn on Lake Kivu.  The décor alone made it worth it for us to splurge.  It has a large comfy common area with a huge fireplace and lots of cozy chairs, all with cushions made of vibrant African prints. The walls are covered with colorful Rwandan art.

 

The reception counter is made from an old fishing boat, as are the couches.  Our room was on the second floor of another building with a large balcony overlooking the lake and taking advantage of the lake’s gentle breezes. The grounds are gorgeous.  There were kayaks available for rent at $25 per person per hour, but we felt that was too expensive.  Our room was luxurious, with two twin plush comfortable beds and a large private bath.

 

Since it was raining, we ate lunch at the hotel, having sambaza (the tiny fish freshly caught in Lake Kivu and fried) plus a vegetarian pizza and Vitalo (the Rwandan equivalent of Pelligrino) for 9,000 francs (just over $10) for the two of us.

The rain lasted about two hours.  Afterwards it was overcast and cool, but very pleasant.  So, we walked past the Bralirwa Brewery (which makes Primus, Mutzig and Turbo King beers), laughing at the goats that had glued themselves to the fence to nibble on the hedge on the opposite side, and then to the hot springs, which cost 1,000 francs (just over $1) to enter.  I was unimpressed.  The locals have tried to make the springs touristy, but I didn’t think it was worth the visit.  The main attraction is about a ten foot in diameter hot springs which have been turned into something like a hot tub by stacking sandbags in a circle.  I sat on the top of the sandbags, rolled up my hiking pants and dipped my feet into the warm water.  There were about ten other people already in the “hot tub,” one was getting his head, neck and back massaged.  Visitors can pay for a massage, including a full mud massage where one is buried up to one’s neck in hot mud on the edge of the lake.  It didn’t look fun to me.  There was also a bar on a hill above the springs.  Some people went swimming in the lake, which is said to be very warm in this area. However, parasitic worms released from infected snails that live in the water can cause schistosomiasis, a/k/a bilharia, which is an awful disease and, according to Wikipedia, common in fresh water bodies in Africa, Asia and South America. The disease mainly affects the kidneys, bladder and liver with devastating consequences.  After five minutes, I’d had enough of the hot springs and convinced Béné to leave.

On our way back to our inn, we stopped at El Classico Bar, which has tables on the water’s edge, for a Primus Citron our favorite lemon-flavored Rwandan beer.  The menu seemed boring, so we just sipped on our beers and watched the sunset over the lake and listened to the fishermen and women sing as they paddled their boats out for night fishing.

They cast their nets and then wait and sometimes sleep.  After several hours, they pull in their nets filled with hundreds of thousands of the small but tasty sambaza fish that are later sold to market vendors to sell.

We returned to the Paradis Malahide for dinner, and, of course, had more fish: fish brochettes and another huge plate of fried sambaza, plus a salad and fries.  Afterwards, we met a British woman traveling in Rwanda and talked for an hour, while sipping on our after-dinner drinks of Amarula, the South African liqueur that tastes like Bailey’s.  What a way to prepare for tomorrow’s hike!  Our British friend was staying at the Inzu Lodge, further down the road, camping in a luxury tent for considerably less than what we paid.

The next morning, we had hoped to have breakfast at 6:30 a.m. so that we could get an early start. However, our breakfast did not arrive till 7:00 a.m.  We also had hoped that the inn would have filtered water so that we could fill our water bottles, but they didn’t.  It was not a problem, however, because bottled water is available just about everywhere on the trail.  Before we set out, the inn gave us a treat for the road: a crepe wrapped in aluminum foil for each of us.

Day 2 – Rubona to Cyimbiri (pronounced Chimbeery) (Friday, Dec. 14, 2018) (approx. 15.5 miles)

We retraced our steps back to the brewery, walking between the multi-story brewery and the port facilities.  Once past the brewery, the paved road disappears and the dirt trail begins.

We hiked for a total of 7 hours and 10 minutes, including lots of breaks and slowing down to greet everyone along the way.  It was extremely hilly.  The road was often rocky, and I could feel the sharp rocks through the thin soles of my Lems hiking boots, so the bottoms of my feet were sore by the end of the hike. I found it a tough hike, perhaps because it was our first long day and my pack was heavy and had no chest strap.

The trail was easy to follow, usually obvious, and signage was good, except at the town of Kyambere, where there was a Y in the road and no sign.  All of the townspeople were eager to assist us; however, half told us to go one way and the other half told us to go the other way.  Each group of people was adamant that Cyimbiri was in the direction they pointed.  It was maddening.  We started walking one way, and people told us to go the other way.  Finally, after much scratching of our heads, we decided to turn left.  However, I felt uncomfortable about it.  It was very hot and we were very tired.  I did not want to have to backtrack four miles because we went the wrong way.   Fortunately, before embarking on the hike, I had made a list of all the places we could stay along the trail, complete with names and phone numbers. About a half mile later, I took out that list and called Jean at the Cymbiri Guesthouse, who said we were going the right way.  I think that maybe both directions would have been okay; however, one way might be longer.  Jean’s confirmation lifted a load off us and instantly our backpacks, as well as our steps, felt lighter.  Jean also gave us explicit directions to the guesthouse: Turn right at the sign to the base camp, turn left at an unmarked junction, then walk through the school to the unmarked gate on the right and go through the gate to reach the guesthouse.

We passed through many villages.  In the afternoon, we found very little to eat or drink. In one small village, there were no stores open and it seemed like a ghost town – perhaps because it was Friday afternoon and the Muslims were at prayer.  Mid-morning, we had snacked on the yummy crepes the inn had packed for us, but now we were hungry.  So, I asked a man where we could buy bananas.  He went away and returned with three small bananas and tried to charge us 500 francs, then reduced it to 300 francs.  Béné, however, astute shopper that she is, told him what she paid in Ruhango and gave him 150 francs, which he gladly took.  We had no rain at all today, though for an hour the sky looked threatening.

    

Several times during our days on the trail, we came across holes in the road filled with beans, which is the traditional Rwandan game of igisoro, which is a mathematically challenging board game played by two players, normally in a piece of wood with 32 holes chiseled out for holding the seeds or beans. I have seen the game played with such speed that it’s dizzying to watch and impossible to keep up with the math. Here, I assume that enterprising children made their own game in the middle of the quiet road.

We were never alone.  Often, children walked alongside or behind us, saying, “Goot morning” no matter what time of the day it was and asking for “amafaranga.”  Even the few times that we thought we were alone, we looked around and saw someone staring at us from the hillside.  In one village, we were surprised that the children did not ask for money or stick to us like glue; instead, they yelled, “Hello,” and we said, “Hello” back.  That went on, back and forth, for some time and more and more kids joined in, mostly invisible to us; it was quite enjoyable.  It kept on even after we could no longer see any kids, though we could still hear them calling from the hills and the bushes on the sides of the road and we kept responding until the “hellos” became so weak we could barely hear them.

Some children asked for “icupa” or “agacupa,” which mean bottle or little bottle.  So, when we finished a water bottle, we always gave it to a child.  The children were always excited to get our water bottles.  Kids also asked for food or said they were hungry.  In Rwanda, it’s rude to eat in front of someone else without sharing.  However, if we gave something to one or two kids, magically a dozen more appeared out of nowhere with their hands out.

We were so relieved to finally see a sign for the village of Cyimbari.

However, the Cyimbari Guesthouse was at least an hour’s walk further, past a waterfall, then a left turn at the sign for the base camp (where nothing is) and at least a mile downhill through fields of coffee beans, the school and then through the red metal gate.  The guesthouse is Baptist-run, so there is no alcohol.  However, guests can order beer and the guesthouse will have it delivered.  We ordered two Fantas and a large bottle of water.  Our congenial host, Christian, spoke excellent English and could not have been nicer. He welcomed us wholeheartedly, turned on the hot water heater for our baths and made us hot tea.  The guesthouse, which felt like a B & B, is adjacent to a large coffee plantation.  The guesthouse has a large veranda perfect for relaxing that faces Lake Kivu and is just steps from its shore.  Thus, the views were stunning.  It is a serene and peaceful setting.

Béné and I shared a clean and neat room with two comfy twin beds, each with a mosquito net.

  True to the Rwandan custom, there was a pair of flip-flops for each of us under our beds and towels on our beds.  And, we had a private bath and places to charge our phones. The house had been built by an American missionary, who picked a gorgeous location.

Our room cost 15,000 francs (about $17) for the two of us.  Our dinner of dodo (similar to creamed spinach), beans, sambaza fish and tomato sauce, white rice and french fries, with bananas for dessert, was 5,000 francs (less than $6) per person. A vegetarian option was also available.  Our hearty breakfast was 2,000 francs (about $2.30) per person.  We had omelettes, lots of bread with jam and margarine, pineapple chunks and our choice of tea, hot milk or Cyimbiri Estate Coffee.  Of course, we chose the locally grown coffee, which was delicious.  Our Fantas were 500 francs (less than 60 cents) each, and the large bottle of water 600 francs (less than 70 cents).  Be sure to call in advance so that the guesthouse can get your room and dinner ready.

Christmas in Rwanda is very low key compared to the U.S. Still, it was a fun time.  On the days before Christmas, as well as Christmas Day, almost everyone wishes you “Noheri nziza n’umwaka mushya muhire” – A good Christmas and a happy & safe New Year. (“Noheri” is the Kinyarwanda way of saying “Noel”).  In return, I wished everyone the same.

On Christmas Eve, the market was abuzz with people frenetically buying and selling food for the holiday. As I squeezed my way through the market, now and then a vendor would thrust a chicken into my chest trying to get me to buy it.  Here is a load of chickens, one vendor had deposited on the sidewalk next to the bus station to attract a crowd of buyers.  Nothing like a fresh chicken for Christmas! 

On the main street, outside the market, a vendor was selling small artificial Christmas trees. A few vendors strung up colorful lights inside or outside their small shops. The town strung some blue lights on the main thoroughfare.  And, the Heritage Hotel had a string of white lights at its entrance and a Santa cutout by its front door.

However, Kigali, the capital city, was really decked out in lights, as this photo taken by  Béné the day after Christmas, shows:

Rwanda has two official holidays at Christmas: Christmas Day and Boxing Day, which is the day after Christmas and adopted from the Brits, since Rwanda is a member of the British Commonwealth of nations. Boxing Day has nothing to do with the sport of boxing, which is the first thing that came to mind for me when I heard of it. Rather, it refers to the day that the British gentry gave gifts (boxes) to their servants. Boxing refers to the act of wrapping, as opposed to the act of punching, which makes for a much more pleasant day. Here, in Rwanda, I didn’t see any boxing of either type going on. Instead, everyone was exceptionally pleasant repeating Christmas and New Year’s greetings. I was thankful to have the extra holiday to relax. However, I noticed that, on both Christmas Day and Boxing Day, many Rwandans were hard at work. For instance, the construction workers pouring concrete, hammering nails and doing other laborious work on our new school addition did not get either day off. The street cleaners (women who sweep the streets and gutters with hand brooms, often with babies on their backs, in return for a form of welfare) did not get the days off either.  And, for landscapers, cooks, servers and many vendors, it was business as usual. However, teachers (like me) and government workers were lucky to get the days off.

So, how did Béné and I celebrate the holidays? On Christmas Eve, after shopping for food, we enjoyed a late lunch at the Dayenu Hotel, gorging on salad, fish brochettes and Skol Panaché, which is a combination of beer and citrus soda and has extremely low alcohol content (.5%).  After, returning home, we gussied up in our best bar clothes (I had just purchased for the equivalent of $17 for the occasion a yellow fake leather jacket from a new shop in town) and hopped a bus to Begege, a place just outside Nyanza where the infamous Gallactico Nightclub is. I had heard of this bar from my students, but never had the nerve to go alone.  Bene, being up for anything and noting that “the bar sounded out of this world,” was excited to accompany me.  Good sport that she is, Bene did not even complain when I missed our bus stop and we had to walk close to a mile on a busy road in the dark back to the club with her wearing her nightclub shoes.

There was no cover charge, and we were welcomed immediately as we entered and escorted to a table where we could easily see and hear the band, comprised of three guitars, a drummer and a lead singer.  All of the band members were wearing matching yellow polo shirts with “0 Ambience” printed on the back; a strange name for a band, I thought because they seemed to have a lot of ambiance.  I sipped on a Skol Panaché and Béné had a Virunga beer as we enjoyed the music and chatted with a few patrons. Later, we were delighted as the modern music abruptly changed to traditional Rwandan music and dancing by three graceful Rwandan women attired in elegant flowing dresses of red and green for Christmas, followed by a wild and energetic male traditional Intore dancer, who was the highlight of the evening and exited to deafening applause.

By that time, we had to leave to get to the Catholic Church, as Béné wanted to catch the 10 p.m. mass. However, when we arrived at the church, we found the doors locked and the grounds dark and silent.  Béné had been given bad information as to the mass time; we learned that it was 6 p.m. and that we had missed it.

So, home we went, where I opened a bottle of Amarula that I had purchased for the occasion. Amarula is a South African drink made from a fruit “g)rown wild on Marula trees,” according to the label. The label goes on to explain that “Africa’s exotic Marula fruit is distilled and matured in oak barrels for two years, before being blended with a rich velvety cream to make Amarula.” The fruit, while common in South Africa, does not grow in Rwanda; but fortunately Rwandans have seen fit to import this delicious drink that tastes and looks remarkably like Bailey’s Irish Cream. According to Wikipedia, the Marula fruit has eight times the amount of vitamin C as an orange, so hopefully we got some nutrients along with our nightcap.

On Christmas morning, Béné made her signature fruit salad of pineapple, bananas, papaya, passion fruit and lime juice, which we enjoyed with amandazi (Rwandan donuts) and, of course, Rwandan coffee before we set off on our Christmas hike around town.

After a few hours of hiking, we took a break at a restaurant so tiny that it had only one small table.  We treated ourselves to ikivuguto (Rwanda’s liquid and very sour yogurt) and a chocolate bonbon to replenish any calories we might have burned during the hike.

In the evening, we walked to the New Life Bar, which happens to be owned by a work colleague of mine and is a popular hangout in town for TV soccer watchers, older students and many others. The New Life had advertised a Christmas party with a live guitarist so, party animals that Béné and I are, we went.

Again, we were instantly welcomed and given a seat where we could easily see the area where the guitarist would be but were not under the loudspeakers. While we waited the usually long time (There is no fast food in Rwanda) for our goat brochettes (which turned out to be the best ever) and our ibitoki (fried plantain), we listened to the warm-up act, which was a man singing to recordings of pop hits – a kind of one-man karaoke act, which wasn’t bad. I sipped on yet another Skol Panaché. When we finished our food and the main act had not yet started, we decided to go home, as Bene wanted to make a large cucumber and avocado salad for Christmas dinner.

Then, we watched a movie.  Since “It’s a Wonderful Life” was not playing anywhere locally, we watched on Béné’s laptop the 2009 movie “From a Whisper,” an interesting drama by Kenyan Director Wanuri Kahiu, about the 1998 bombing of the U.S. embassy in Nairobi, Kenya.  Wanuri Kahiu is currently renowned for her latest film “Rafiki,” a love story about two Kenyan women.  The film, a hit at Cannes, was banned in Kenya for its homosexual content, but was later allowed to play in Nairobi for only a week so that it could qualify for the Academy Awards in the category of best foreign film this year.  Unfortunately, after all that effort, it wasn’t nominated for an Oscar.

Not the usual Christmas festivities, but fun nonetheless.

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In 2018, when I was selected by Peace Corps to come to Rwanda as a volunteer teacher, I had no idea what to bring and what not to bring.  Because we were limited to two suitcases and a carry-on, it was essential to be selective about what we packed.  I scoured the internet for advice and was very thankful for the little advice I found.  So I am adding to that advice based on my experience since I’ve been living in a town in Rwanda for ten months.  I’ve also added information about food. Here are my suggestions and comments in no particular order.

Things to Definitely Bring (Or At Least Think About Bringing) to Rwanda

• Extra charger cables for phone & tablets. I picked up a cheap one at CVS before I left that has 2 interchangeable plugs, one for an iPhone and the other for other phones.  Many of my staff members borrow it from me to charge their phones.  You can plug the cables into your computer or an adapter with a USB connection to charge your phone.  I keep one charger at home and one in the office.
• A note on electricity: All of the Peace Corps Response Volunteers that I’ve known have had electricity in their homes.  Most, but not all, of the 2-year Peace Corps Volunteers also have electricity. For those who have electricity, the electricity is fairly reliable, but it does frequently go off.  In my town, the electricity goes off several times a day, which is quite annoying if one is teaching and relying on electricity for, say, an overhead projector.  Fortunately, my school has a generator that kicks in soon after the power goes out.  But many places are not so lucky.  So, if you bring electrical appliances with you, you will most likely be able to use them.  However, you will need an adapter to Rwandan plugs, but adaptors are easy to buy here.
• Portable charger (My iPhone can’t hold a charge all day. When I travel to Kigali, the capital, my phone is dead before I return, which is annoying.  I’ve met other volunteers with portable chargers so that they don’t have that problem).
• Jeans (everyone here wears them).
• Hiking pants, if you hike. They are also good for rain, which there is a lot of here.  I brought one pair & wish I had packed another.
• Hiking boots or shoes.  You will be doing a lot of walking and possibly hiking. The hiking here is fabulous because of the many paths and hills.  The Congo-Nile Trail is a 142 mile hiking trail that runs along Lake Kivu in the Western Province.  One can hike the whole trail or just parts of it.
• Belt – if you have a favorite, bring it. (Most volunteers initially lose weight here. But note that belts are sold in most markets.)
• Extra pair of eyeglasses
• Warm pajamas. (the nights during the long rainy season starting in February can be cold depending where you live – especially in the mountains outside of Kigali and in the north.)  I live in the Southern Province and found the nights very cold when I first arrived in February of 2018.
• Lightweight pajamas for most of the year.
• Lightweight robe – I wear mine every morning.
• Bras for women. (They are available in all the markets here, but you might not be able to find a good fit or may feel weird buying one with everyone staring at you.)
• Swimsuit (A number of hotels in Rwanda, even outside of Kigali, have swimming pools.  Usually, the cost of using the pool for an afternoon is just over $1.  Huye, a fun city in the Southern Province, has three pools that I know of:  two hotel pools and a public pool, all very nice pools where one can get food & drinks as well as swim.  The town of Nyanza also has a hotel with a large pool.)
• Shorts – if you run.  But note that wearing shorts is generally frowned on for both men and women, so knee-length shorts are preferable, even for running the Kigali Peace Marathon or Half-Marathon in May.
• Sweaters – especially turtlenecks. I only brought 2 lightweight turtlenecks, which I often wore to work during the long rainy season, but I wish I’d brought more.
• Rain jacket with hood (It rains a lot in Rwanda. I bought a very lightweight Patagonia rain jacket that packs into its own pouch so that I can carry it wherever I go).
• Raincoat with hood (I wear this to & from school many days during the long rainy season to keep dry.)
• Hangers for skirts or pants.
• If you think you will be buying a bike (Peace Corps no longer provides), bring bike gloves & rubber bands to put on your pants to keep them out of the derailleur. Peace Corps will give you a helmet, but you may want to bring your own.  Also, a bike jersey with pockets in the back would be nice.
• Vitamins & supplements (Peace Corps gives only pink prenatal vitamins, whether you are male or female).
• Baseball cap – (they are available here, but not as nice as the one you probably already have. I was hoping to find one that said “Rwanda,” but no such luck.  Although there are many caps in the market, I couldn’t find one that fit right.  You will need a cap or hat for Umuganda to keep off the sun.
• Work gloves (Bring a sturdy pair. You will need them for Umuganda, the monthly community work day.)
• Work pants (jeans or old pants for Umuganda)
• Laptop (I brought a 17” laptop, thinking that the larger screen would be useful for teaching a small class. I have used it a lot for showing videos or Powe to a small group of students.)
• Earbuds (though you can get headsets here).
• Speaker for your tablet or laptop (I bought speakers in Kigali, but they are much larger than I wanted.)
• Good sandals. I brought Tevas & am really glad I did, as I hike in them & wear them as casual shoes. That said, sandals are available in the markets here, so if you don’t have room or forget them, you can find sandals here, just not your favorite brand.  Note that Rwandan women prefer fancy sandals, which you will be able to find in almost any Rwandan market.  I don’t advise wearing sandals at night because of the mosquitoes, but wearing socks helps.
• English/Kinyarwanda dictionary – Several are available on Amazon. I bought one by A.H. Zemback that I found helpful.  There is also a free on-line dictionary at Kinyarwanda.net.  Being able to speak some Kinyarwanda is critically important here, especially outside of Kigali.
• Small sewing kit. (However, if you forget it like I did, you can take your clothes needing mending to one of the many tailors or seamstresses in the market, who will gladly fix it for likely less than $1.)
• Books – Books are heavy so think carefully about whether you really need them before packing.  Many books are now available as e-books, eliminating the need to pack books.  If a book that you will need for your job in Rwanda is not available as an e-book and is heavy, pack it in your carry-on.  Children’s books are a rarity here.
• DVDs that may be fun and educational to show your students.
• Coffee filters.  They are hard to find here.  Some volunteers make their own.  Coffee snob that I used to be, I brought a French  Press with me so don’t need filters.

Things I wish I had brought but didn’t

• Bike jersey (to wear when riding my bike).
• Running shorts – I wish I had brought a pair of running shorts to wear over my swimsuit for extra modesty.
• Binoculars (for looking at birds, bats, trees, monkeys, etc.)
• Really good camera (instead of my iPhone 5)
• Ear plugs (I have a colony of bats in my yard that wakes me up at 4:00 a.m. every day.  Also, the blaring radios on the local buses can be deafening.)
• Large & small safety pins (Needed to tighten the waistband of my pants when I lost weight when I first arrived.)
• Paper clips (large & small, especially those cool colored ones). I’ve finally been able to get some paper clips from my school. They are also available in office supply stores here.
• Stapler
• Pen refills.  The only pens available in most places are BIC (blue or red), which work just fine.  If you bring a pen that can be refilled, bring the refills, too.
• Rubber bands (sturdy ones)
• Thumb or Flash drives (They are simply called Flash here)– bring several. They are available here, but not easy to find in smaller towns & villages. In six months, I bought two 16 GB flash drives here. Many of the school staff & teachers borrow mine (they always return it), so it’s good to have extras. They are so small, why not load up on several?  When you leave Peace Corps, you can put all of the  teaching materials you’ve created on a flash drive and leave it with your school.
• A second pair of hiking pants
• A baseball-style cap.
• A hair dryer, but I found one at a store in Kigali, the capital city, for about $12.  It’s not as powerful as I’d like, but it works.
• Wrapping paper and ribbon for gift wrapping.  You will be attending a lot of weddings in Rwanda and giving presents for newborns.  Gift wrapping paper is hard to find (though the colorful gift bags are available in every market).  There are many professional gift wrappers, but they are expensive and time-consuming.  Paper and ribbon are lightweight and don’t take up much space in luggage.
• Birthday, wedding and new baby cards.  The card selections here are awful.  They are mostly from China, mostly in French.  If in English, they often have misspelled words.  Cards are easy enough to pack, bring a handful.

Things I brought but didn’t need and never used

• Skirts or dress – I never wear them. (If you want a skirt or dress, you can easily have one made out of the beautiful fabric available in most markets. Besides, bare white legs here stand out and are not very attractive.Fabric displayed for sale in the Huye market
• Water filter, iodine for purifying water or a water bottle (No need for any of those items because bottled water is available everywhere. Also, Peace Corps provides volunteers a large water filter for use at home.)
• Yoga pants – I’ve never seen yoga anywhere in Rwanda, though there may be some in Kigali. Anywhere else, forget it.

Things one can easily buy here

• Plug adaptor (Rwanda uses the European 2-pronged plug, different from U.S. plugs.)   If you bring an adaptor, be sure it can switch between “UK” and “USA” to “Europe.”  Some of the appliances that you buy here (like the iron I bought) might have a UK (3 prong) plug; thus, you would need an adaptor that can switch from the UK plug to a European 2-prong plug (different from USA 2-prong plugs). I purchased two adaptors in Kigali and keep one at home and one at school.  The adaptor I bought also has a handy USB port for charging phones.
• Cheap Sunglasses
• Scissors
• Electric kettle (more like a pitcher) for boiling water.
• Stove-top for cooking and propane tanks
• Small college dorm sized fridge – a few volunteers have purchased this in Kigali. Almost all volunteers easily survive without.
• Mosquito coils & plug-in mosquito repellents
• Cleaning supplies
• Vinegar
• Bleach
• Hydrogen peroxide
• Bottled water – it’s everywhere
• Umbrellas, including collapsible ones.

  

• Tupperware-type containers for food storage. (I store all my food in them to keep the ants and other critters away.)
• Cookware and kitchenware – T-2000, the humongous Chinese-owned department store in the center of Kigali, has everything Chinese, even cheap French presses.  It’s the closest thing to Costco here, but without the free food.
• Headphones for computer or laptop
• Belts – You will lose weight initially here & need a belt for your pants, even if you normally don’t wear a belt.
• Flip-flops, but may not be as good quality and comfy as ones you buy in the U.S.
• Sandals
• Shoes – Rwandans are crazy about wearing neat, clean and proper shoes.  Fortunately, shoes are available in just about every market, and there is a Bata Shoe Store in Kigali.
• Shoelaces
• Socks – New and second-hand available in most markets.
• Shoe repair (I’ve already had two pairs of my American shoes repaired in my local market.)
• Dry cleaning (Dry cleaning is available in cities and some towns.  Professional men and women are expected to wear suits to work, so dry cleaning is a necessity for some.)
• Rat traps (available in the markets here.)
• BOP – The Rwandan equivalent of Raid.  BOP is sold in most shops.
• Creams & lotions (Every market has a wide variety of interesting creams & lotions).
• Soap & shampoo – in Kigali, you can find many of the major brands (Dove, Pert, Pantene & a few other name brands). A popular brand here is Geisha soap. You can also buy liquid hand soap in various colors. In towns and villages, you probably won’t find any shampoo you are used to, but you can stock up while in a city.
• Dish soap –  I found green liquid dish soap in Kigali, but most Rwandans use a soap paste called Axion that works just fine.
• Laundry soap. There are 3 main brands of powdered soap: Omo, Nomi and Sunlight.
• Clothes pins (plastic)
• Coat hangers (but not skirt or pants hangers).
• Iron
• Bedding: Pillows, sheets and light comforters and light blankets can be bought in Kigali and most towns in the market.
• Toothpaste – Colgate (large or travel size) is available everywhere. In Kigali and Huye, I’ve seen Sensodyne & Aquafresh.
• Toothbrushes
• Portable radios (I bought mine in my town. It cost the equivalent of about $11 & can use either electricity or batteries.)
• Bike lock.
• Batteries of most sizes.
• Paper –  printer paper, notebooks.
• Pens – but only blue and red BIC.
• Small plastic pencil sharpeners
• Electricity – Power strips with built in adaptors are available in cities and towns.  My laptop is plugged in below on the right.  

Things Peace Corps provides many items, most of which I’ve noted below:

• Band-Aids
• Tweezers
• Dental floss (but not the Glide type)
• Eye drops (I needed these in the dry season)
• Nasal spray
• Nasal decongestant
• Oral dehydration salts
• Tylenol
• Ibuprofen
• Zithromax
• Anti-diarrhea tablets
• Antacid tablets
• Antihistamine pills
• Malaria pills
• Mosquito Bed Net
• Prenatal vitamins (for male and female volunteers)
• Pills for travel sickness
• Triple antibiotic cream
• Anti-itch ointment
• Rubber gloves
• Gauze pads
• Ace bandage
• Chap stick
• Antiseptic hand wash
• Sunscreen
• Antiseptic liquid soap.
• Condoms
• Insect repellent (rub-on)
• Large Water Filter
• Bike helmet (but if you have one you love from home & intend to have a bike, think about packing it, as a helmet is light & doesn’t take up a lot of space)
• Whistle

Food

• Vegetarians can easily survive here. Tofu is not difficult to find because the Seventh Day Adventist religion is big here, and Seventh Day Adventists are vegetarians. In cities and towns, there is usually a Seventh Day Adventist who sells tofu. Widely available are eggs (omelets and hard-boiled eggs) and dairy products like milk, milk tea, yogurt and kefir (fermented milk, which is called ikivuguto).  Eating yogurt or drinking ikivuguto is an easy way to add good bacteria to one’s gut.  Ikivuguto is close to sacred in Rwanda.  Standing while drinking ikivuguto is considered bad manners, as one should properly be seated while drinking ikivuguto.  I have noticed of few of Rwanda’s younger generation standing while sipping their ikivuguto, and, when I mention how traditionally people had to be seated to drink ikivuguto, they give me a sheepish look as they quickly sit down.

  

  Rwanda’s oral, and later written, history, highlights the importance of ikivuguto. Rwanda’s first king, Gihanda, was suffering from dysentery.  His daughter, Nyiraruucyaba, who was living in the forest with her hunter husband, had a cow.  Nyiraruucyaba gave her father, King Gihanda, some ikyvuguto, and he quickly recovered.  After that, King Gihanda recognized the importance of cows and soon had his own.

• Ghee is also available here, but hard to find outside of Kigali.  One can purchase powdered milk or liquid milk in a large juice box style container in the many small stores. Beans are widely eaten for protein.  That said, a vegetarian volunteer I knew lost a great deal of weight here.

• Those suffering from Celiac Disease and others who need or want to be wheat-free may find it very difficult here. Breads, bread-like cakes, donuts that are in the shape of a ball called amandazi, chapatis and samosas (spicy little meat-filled deep-fried pies) are sold everywhere.  Also, in every shop are various types of packaged wheat biscuits. It is possible to be wheat-free, but difficult; one must really work at it.  Quaker oats are available in the cities. I knew a wheat-free volunteer who ate a lot of peanut butter. But peanut butter is not widely available here, as it is in West Africa.  I’ve only seen jarred peanut butter in the cities.  Small peanuts called ubunyobwa are widely available in Rwanda and a great snack.
• Diabetics – a friend is a diabetic volunteer. Despite eating lots of fruits, candy and baked goods made with wheat, she says her numbers are lower than ever since she was diagnosed as a diabetic.  However, she continues on her medicine.

• Fruit is available in all the markets. Bananas (large and fingerlings), passionfruit (amatunda), tree tomatoes (also known as Japanese plums), pineapples (inyayansi), watermelon, oranges (amacunga), mandarins (mandarina)(seasonal, & the season ended in November), avocados (avoca), papaya (ipapayi) and mangoes (imyembe).
• Vegetables – carrots, tomatoes, onions, garlic, cucumbers, green peppers, cabbage (usually sautéed), eggplant (The most common is a very small yellow eggplant that is often mixed with beans or a sautéed green vegetable. The large black eggplants are here but rarer). Green leafy vegetables are not eaten raw, but instead sautéed similar to creamed spinach.  It is rare to find cauliflower and rarer to find broccoli. I have only seen broccoli once in the market in my town. I have never seen kale or lettuce.  A wider variety of vegetables is available in Kigali. In hotels, the salad is usually avocado, shredded carrots, chopped cucumbers, chopped tomatoes and sliced white onions.  Sometimes a chopped hard-boiled egg is added.  The standard measuring weight for purchasing fruits or vegetables is one kilo.
• Starches – Potatoes, potatoes, potatoes. Cooked every way you can imagine, except mashed and scalloped. Potato chips are available in stores in many towns.  Also, plantain (but smaller than the West African variety), cassava, rice, breads, green beans, peas, and red beans that are the size and color of kidney beans.
• Meat, poultry & fish – Beef, chicken, goat and fish (tilapia and some small fish that I haven’t been able to identify) are widely available. Pork is available but only in some places.  Brochettes are quite popular – mostly goat, but also beef and fish.  In cities and some towns at a hotel, it’s possible to get a hamburger; the taste and texture are different from American burgers, but still a treat.  Canned sardines are available in most shops.
• Condiments:  Ketchup and mayo are widely available. Mayo is popular on French fries. Akabanga – meaning “little secret” – is a very spicy liquid red pepper that many Rwandans adore and a few others despise. It is usually on every table. Margarine is also widely available, and I’ve seen fruit jam in a few places. Rwandan honey is sold in many shops.  Sugar (turbinado or white) is sold in every market.

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• Cold drinks: Bottled water is ubiquitous. So are Fanta (orange, citron or grape), coke and beer bottled in Rwanda (Heineken, Amstel, Primus, Mutzig, Gatanu and Turbo King).  Canned beers are also available, but less popular than bottles.  There is a non-alcoholic canned beer called Bavaria.  Energy drinks are popular, especially Red Bull.
• Fruit juices: The most popular are mango, passion fruit, pineapple and apple.  They have added sugar.  Some restaurants offer fresh-squeezed fruit juices.
• Other Alcohol – Hard liquor is displayed in many stores.

  

  Vodka is popular. A very few stores even sell wine boxes for about 22,000 francs (about $25).

• Hot beverages – The main choices in restaurants are: mukara (which is a spicy, sugary black tea), African tea (which is a milky, spicy, sugary black tea that is also called icyayi) and instant coffee (Nescafe from South Africa).
• Nescafe is available in most small shops. If you want to brew your own coffee, the small stores in most towns sell ground Rwandan coffee, but I’ve only seen whole bean Rwandan coffee in Kigali or the coffee plantations that give tours.  Rwandan black tea and green tea is widely available in large boxes of tea bags.  One can also purchase black leaf tea.  Herbal teas are available only in Kigali.
• Kirida – Toothpicks are on every table.  Kirida comes from the French word for toothpick: cure-dent, pronounced as only the French pronounce words and then turned into a Kinyarwanda word.  After every meal, Rwandans fastidiously clean their teeth with kirida. It’s a habit that I quickly picked up.

Béné’s Peace Corps assignment officially ends on December 11th.  For the past ten months, she has thrown herself into her job, teaching over 700 students at a boarding vocational-technical high school called the Lycee du Ruhango (The name reflects the historic French/francophone influence), as well as teaching teachers better English language skills so that they can improve their teaching.  The high school students at her school majored in hospitality and tourism, culinary arts, mechanics, construction, hairdressing/cosmetology or accounting.  Béné taught them all English.

She tirelessly prepared for her classes.  Often, she was in a panic because of the sheer volume of students – all at different levels of English ability.  She complained that the classrooms were too noisy, that the video equipment didn’t work, that she had no teaching background, hadn’t studied pedagogy, hadn’t taught large classes before, didn’t like teaching, had no idea what she was doing – and yet . . . she was an amazing teacher.  Her students adored her; they sent her notes saying, “I love you, teacher,” which Béné treasured.  And, she loved her students back.  Each week, she eagerly told me stories of her students.  Like the week she taught how to make a sentence with the words “I love_______,” asking her students to complete the sentence and tell the class something they loved to do.  After numerous students gave examples of mundane activities, one boy blurted out, “I love kissing.”  Without skipping a beat, Béné responded, “Well, I do, too.”

She went on field trips all over Rwanda with her tourism students, riding in crowded buses with them, listening to their teenage Rwandan pop music and partaking in their laughter.  Whenever Béné traveled outside of Ruhango, she would be sure to stop and see her students who were doing internships in hotels, restaurants or auto repair shops around the country.   She was proud of every one of them.  One day, she showed off her fire engine red toenails, meticulously painted by one of her cosmetology students during an internship at a beauty saloon (that’s how it’s spelled in Rwanda) in Ruhango.

One Saturday, she planned a special movie night, even putting up an artsy poster at the entrance of the school in advance, but the event started all wrong.  No one brought the speakers and mixer; the sound system wasn’t working and the students did not show up. She was disgusted and ready to give up when finally, the opening music to the film filled the hall. And just as suddenly, the hall was filled with excited students, who soon were falling off  their benches laughing at the Charlie Chaplin film she showed.

Béné brought her artistic talents to her work.  During one English Club meeting, Béné taught the members how to make paper-maché masks.

Then, on Halloween night in the dark, Béné and her mischievous mask-making companions wearing their masks and making ferocious sounds crashed the study halls, simultaneously scaring and delighting the teens studying at their desks.

She also revamped the library and, with her talent for art, made fun signs for shelves and otherwise transformed the previously dull library into an inviting place.  Unlike me, Béné refused to settle for the lackluster greeting cards available in the markets here.  Instead, she made her own, like this card for a fellow teacher’s wedding.

You may know that Béné loves to hike.  Many mornings, she rose before the crack of dawn to have time before school began to hike to a new part of town.  Most Sundays, she invited students to accompany her on a “walk and talk,” exploring the hills and valleys around Ruhango while talking about anything and everything – even the ants that they saw. Béné always brought extra water and made her own trail mix to share with her student walkers-and-talkers.

Being half French and a full gourmet cook, Béné prepared elaborate meals for friends and staff members in her cozy cottage of a home.  In return, she was invited to many Rwandans’ homes.

 

And, Béné wrote a love poem about Rwandans.

The Rwandans say….
The Rwandans say “yes” with their eyebrows. There is something very sly about it.
I love to repeat my questions,
And then to watch what happens.
The Rwandans say “no” with a firm “oya!” They stress the “ya” to make sure you know No is no. Oya. Oya!
The Rwandans smile with their whole face. It cracks wide open and changes shape. Their eyes crinkle and their teeth sparkle. And their eyebrows go up or down.
The Rwandans say “yes” with a “yego.” Yego to this, yego to that.
Say hello, they’ll reply Yego!
They stress the “o” to make sure you know. Yes is fine. Yego! Yego!
The Rwandans say “I love you” freely. They don’t worry about formality.
“I love you teacher” they say to me. “I love you teacher, I love you.”
The Rwandans say “yes” with their eyebrows. At first you don’t know what they mean.
But then you ask another question.
And then you watch what happens.

To thank Béné for her exemplary service, her school threw an extravagant party for her in the school’s lovely outdoor garden.  There was an official program sent out the week before.  She so looked forward to the event that she had a striking new dress made for the occasion.

Guests included a representative from the mayor’s office, the village chief, just about the entire school staff, Sho (a young, friendly and enthusiastic Japanese volunteer who teaches volleyball at several schools in Ruhango) and Béné’s Kinyarwanda teacher, who made us all laugh when she painted Béné as a bad student, always too tired from long days of teaching to concentrate on the ten different ways of saying “good” in Kinyarwanda.   Béné responded that she had in fact tried and, in any event, the five languages that she does speak should be enough.  (Yes, hard to believe, but she is an American.)  Indeed, Béné made ample use of her French during her time in Rwanda, because most Rwandans speak better French than English.

Béné was showered with gifts: a gorgeous dress and matching purse made from Rwandan fabric, a colorful woven bowl, a trophy for being a “Good Volunteer from Lycee Ikirezi Rwanda,” a gold medal around her neck, a beautifully inscribed and framed Certificate of Appreciation, and a mug with a picture of Béné and some of her students.

Béné gave a heartfelt thank-you speech sprinkled with a few Kinyarwanda words to prove that she wasn’t a complete linguistic failure, and halfway through she started crying.  There was no more fitting way to say “Murabeho,” the Rwandan way of saying goodbye when you knew you would not see the person again for a long time, or possibly never again.

 

Then, in addition to the huge bowls of peanuts that we had been snacking on during the  many speeches, we shared a delicious dinner of potatoes and beef, prepared and served by the industrious culinary arts teacher, with bananas for dessert.  And, of course, we had our choice of coke and various varieties of Fanta (citron being the most popular), plus Skol beer of which Béné having had two was feeling particularly happy.