Arrival in Kigali, Rwanda!

February 16, 2009

So today we drove to Rwanda! I realize after ten hours on the bus and two hours at the border filling out immigration papers and walking a few kilo's, without any direction, in a very unorganized fashion across Uganda to Rwanda; that here I am. This will be my new home for the next nine weeks. It feels like the first day all over again.

I am greeted stepping off the bus by a mob of young men asking if I want “a special.” I look behind and the others are not there. I am sure I don't want the special even though I don't know what it is, I don't want to find out. I think they may be talking about taxis??? After the rest of the team joins me, we wait awkwardly with our bags for the man whose only description was no different from every other man there – a young, black man with no facial hair, and driving a white bus. Driving to where we will be staying I'm hugely impressed with the city of Kigali. It’s clean, and not as crazy as Kampala.

Let me try to explain the “Taxi Park” of Kampala which was my main downfall of the city. First of all a “taxi” is a sort of mini van with fourteen seats squished in and that are not what you call sturdy vehicles – most of them are falling apart. There are three parks – a new one which Ugandans call the old one sometimes; an old one, which may be referred to as the new one or the old one depending on who you ask; and an old, old one which many people don't even know exists. As you can see, they are not clearly named, communication is difficult and remembering directions is close to impossible. I would just rather be dragged around by a Ugandan who knows where he is going.

I was and still am very intimidated by Kampala's Taxi Park. It's a huge area of dirt with a million taxis stuffed – parked or driving – in every which direction with different stages labeling where they should be going which is not always true. You are supposed to know and in order to catch it you must chase it or you will be skipped over and pushed out of the way.

I don't know how to explain the amounts of people in this place, not to mention all the vendors along the way. A few girls actually got a pedicure done in the middle of the park just for an experience and because it was 2000 shillings which is about a dollar.

While trying to find your way, you are running around, avoiding being smashed as you squeeze in between two taxis which are idle or run away from the ones speeding up when they see you crossing the street, stepping in what you hope is just mud puddles but it's not likely, all while politely trying to greet each person that acknowledges the white person with a smile. They are just happy to see you, they don't know your utter disparity and lack of knowledge as to where you are going – or maybe they do and it's humoring them. It's frustrating and difficult, but after you have successfully gotten around in the Park, you feel a sense of accomplishment until you try to go again.

I only got lost in the Taxi Park once by myself the day I was beginning to thank God for my good life because I didn't think there would be a way out until a very nice man, who sensed my desperation, graciously led me exactly to where I needed to be. I said, “Thank you very much!” and he said, “You’re very welcome,” and walked away. Wow, a miracle!