Farewell Africa

Kwaheri Africa, natumaini tutaonana tena mapeura - (Swahli for "Goodbye Africa, we have enjoyed ourselves very much").

We picked up our Visas from the High Commission yesterday, and our flight is set for Saturday afternoon - next stop India. Before we left though, we thought that we would try to summarize our overall Africa experience for you (and ourselves). Turns out that that is a much bigger task than we originally thought it might be. We saw too much, learned too much, and felt too much to describe it all in a few hundred words, I'm not sure a book could hold it all. However, since time constraints preclude us writing a book, we've scaled back our ambitious "summarize Africa" plan to a more workable "convey the flavour of the experience" plan. Even this plan fraught with difficulty. In the 9 weeks that we have been here, we have been in 7 countries from Egypt to Botswana, Zambia to Rwanda, encompassing many different languages (72 in Zambia alone), cultures, religions and geographies. We have used every means of transport imaginable (plane, train, boat, car, bus, motorcycle, dalla dalla, tuk tuk), and have stayed in all sorts of accommodations, from dingy rooms with "bucket showers" to 4 star hotels. We have seen the most incredible scenery and wildlife but have also seen the depths of poverty and urban squalor. Our experience has been... vast. We did want to do something though, so we gave it some thought and decided that we could convey some of our feelings by describing some of the good, the bad, and the ugly:


The good

Landsacpe: We've tried to describe it in our blogs, and have posted some pictures, but neither do it justice. From the vastness of the Serengeti savannah, to Rwanda and Burundi's rolling hills, to the majesty of Victoria Falls. The scenery is exactly as you remember it from the National Geographic magazines you read as a kid, only better.

Sunsets: You wouldn't think that one part of the world would have it over on everywhere else in the sunset department, but you would be wrong. Wherever we were, the blood red sun dipping below the hazy horizon would stop us in our tracks.

Wildlife: How can you describe 4 lions walking 2 meters from your open landcruiser, a mountain gorilla charging at you from the jungle, an eagle stealing your lunch...

Learning: We wouldn't presume to say that we are now experts in the ins and outs of the countries we visited, let alone Africa as a whole, that doesn't happen in a few weeks, I'm not sure it could be done in a lifetime. However, it was nice to be in a place and be able to separate reality from childhood myths, historical inaccuracies, and incompetent news coverage. Being here was a far better than any history class.

Connections: From the lady in the market in Mpulungu who spontaneously shared some of her homemade local food, to the taxi driver in Rwanda who shared some of his personal experiences, the connections we were able to make with local people really helped to enhance our trip.

Independent travel: The lack of a paycheck not withstanding, this trip is turning out to be everything we had hoped for and more. Living simply, new experiences, and facing new challenges is really all it's cracked up to be.

Fellow travelers: Africa is not the easiest place for independent travel, so meeting other travelers hasn't been that common. However, we have been lucky enough to meet a few really nice people with whom to share some of our experiences.

Beer. From the 350 cc Mosi in Zambia, to the 500 cc Serengeti in Tanzania, to the 750 cc Primus in Rwanda and Burundi, the beers kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger..


The Bad

Heat and dust: Our upbringings in the northern US and Canada did not prepare us for the climatic conditions we experienced in Africa. There were days when we thought the heat, or the blazing intensity of the sun might actually do us in. In addition, the barren landscape left us covered in a coat of dust at the end of each day. The rainy season in Rwanda was quite literally like a sigh of relief.

Misogynism: Africa is very much a male dominated society, and women tend to have more traditional, even subservient roles. As it pertained to us, that meant that many of the men would not talk to Colleen, especially when it came time to do any business (pay for hotels, request information etc.). One person even asked her when her husband would be getting back when she tried to ask a question. For those of you who know Colleen, you can just imagine how much she loved that.

Cost: There are two prices for things in Africa. The local price, and the Mzungu (white person) price. Guess which one we paid. 

BO: The combination of heat, dust, poor shower facilities and cheap soap gave us a new understanding of that "not so fresh feeling".

Bad TP: Not to go into any details, but the havoc wreaked by African food on the GI system, combined with toilet paper that could double as sand paper is a painful combination.


The Ugly

Poverty: It is difficult to describe some of the poverty we saw in a way that might have meaning to someone in a northern country. You could describe slums, or dirty children, or recite statistics, but what really struck us was the lack of old people. You could go for days without seeing an older person. It's not because they were hiding, it's because there aren't any. Life expectancies in the countries we visited were in the high forties and low fifties.

Genocide: Our visit to Rwanda was difficult. We saw very disturbing things there, and it is almost impossible to imagine that something like that could ever happen. Even harder to imaggine is the fact that it happens all the time (WW II, Cambodia, Yougoslavia, Armenia, Namibia, etc.).


Obviously this quick list just scratches the surface. We will be pondering the gifts Africa has given us for a long while, but one thing we can say for sure though is that the past 9 weeks have deeply affected us.

Next stop, Delhi. In the words of the immortal Monty Python comedy troupe "... and now for something completely different."



Colleen & Michael
Mgorogoro rd. at Libya st.

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Parc National des Volcans: Eastern Mountain Gorillas

Describing our encounter with Rwanda's eastern mountain gorillas is a difficult task. The pictures and video will probably do a better job, but even they will only scratch the surface. It's not that I couldn't tell you exactly what hapenned, or describe how everything looked, It's that I don't have the skill to describe the sense of the experience adequately. I had a similar problem trying to describe the safari. The experience is so special, and so far from anything I've ever experienced before, that I find myself at a loss for words. In the end it's really just getting close to wild animals, but it is really so much more than that.
  

There are only approximately 700 eastern mountain gorillas left in the world. Approximately half are located in Bwindi Impenetrable Forrest in Uganda, and the other half are located in the Virunga range which consists of a string of volcanoes that straddle the borders of Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. We would be doing our gorilla trek in the Rwandan part of the Virunga range on a Volcano called Bisoke. 

Rwanda's rolling hills

The day started off at the park ranger station, where we were broken up into groups of 8, assigned a gorilla family and instructed on some rules. Don't sneeze or cough near the gorillas, they are susceptible to human diseases, don't point at the gorillas, they could take this as a sign of hostility, and by all means, keep a 7 metre separation between yourself and the gorillas at all times. Prudent rules, easily followed. We were assigned the Ugenda group (originally studied and habituated by Jane Goodall herself), and at about 8:30 am, jumped in the Land Cruiser for the 25 minute drive through the Rwandan countryside to Mount Bisoke.  

 

Bisoke jungle

The Rwandan countryside is really beautiful. Rwanda's nickname is the land of a thousand hills (mille collines), and this nickname is justified, maybe even understated. Even from high vantage points, you can never see an end to the rolling hills, they seem to go on for ever. Also, as opposed to other East African countries we've been to, Rwanda is very verdant, and it is difficult to find a square inch (aside from soccer fields of course) that is not cultivated. The hilly farmland is the quintessential picture of a pre industrial, idyllic countryside. Small farm plots on terraced hillsides with stone fences, a few cows and goats grazing here and there, and a mud brick, thatch roof huts with wispy plumes of smoke rising from a chimeney interspersed with the multicoloured fields. Truly a beautiful sight. I mention all this because, we had to climb up the side of the volcano through this countryside in order to get to the national park where the gorillas live and are protected. A pleasant, if mildly strenuous walk accompanied by two guides and two members of the armed forces with machine guns (to protect against elephants and buffalo we were told). 

Eastern Mountain Gorillas

The Park itself (called Parc National des Volcans in Rwanda), is surrounded by a thick stone wall and ditch (to protect the farmers below from the buffalo and elephants), and it was only on the other side of the wall that we got the final briefing. Turns out that the gorillas do not respect the 7 metre rule. As a matter of fact, they frequently grab people and drag them around. We were told not to worry, that if that happened the gorillas were "just playing". Also, some gorillas charge groups of humans in order to show them who's boss. They usually stop, but whatever you do we were told, stand your ground and don't run away. Funny that they wait until you're on the other side of the wall to tell you all this. Anyway, with our 5 minute tutorial in gorilla behaviour as our main line of defense, we set off to find our group. 



Brooding silverback

Within the park, the terrain changes quickly. It is truly a jungle. Imagine a wall of vegetation of various types and sizes, all foreign to anything you've ever seen before without a hint of a path and you begin to get an idea. We forced our way through this tangle of flora for another 20 or 30 minutes until we met up with the trackers who told us the gorillas were just ahead. Our guide instructed us to drop our packs and follow him. We were thinking we would be in for another bit of a hike, so we were taken completely by surprise when less than a minute later, we rounded a corner into a clearing, and there they were. I counted 14 Gorillas. Males, females juveniles, babies and, presiding over them all, a massive silverback. 



Charging juvenile

This is where I loose the capacity to adequately describe the experience. Being that close (the gorillas did not in fact respect the 7 metre rule) to these majestic, wild animals, in their habitat, without fences or partitions separating us is beyond my ability to describe. Exhilaration, fear, awe, excitement, joy, all seem to be wrapped into one new emotion, and for the next hour (visits with the gorillas are limited to one hour), you feel like you are a 10 year old again. For the most part they didn't pay us much attention. They went about their business eating, grooming each other and lazing around as if we weren't there. Every once in a while one of them would look at you and make eye contact. Their piercing red eyes, and human faces, would make you ask what they were thinking, and force you to ponder the vagaries of evolution that put us in our respective places. We also had a few mock charges from the juvenile males (teenagers are the same the world over), and I think Colleen found something she likes less than a threatening elephant, although I'm not sure I appreciate how she shoved me in front of the gorilla as she ducked behind me. The hour up, we headed back down the mountain and back to our hotel with another gift from Africa in our hearts and memories. 



Lazy baby

The next day we bused it to Gisenyi, a small resort town on the shores of lake Kivu, which curiously enough is one of only two or three lakes in the world that are succeptible to limnic erruptions - in other words, the lake could blow up. Seriously, look it up. A similar lake in Cameroon blew up in the 80s and killed hundreds of people. The lake was beautiful, but the town turned out to have a bit of a rough edge that we didn't much care for. It is adjacent to the DRC border, was a flashpoint during the genocide and subsequent troubles in the DRC, and I'm not sure that enough time has passed here for friendly tourism. We did meet up with two girls we met on the gorilla trek though and ended up spending a lovely evening with them. Turns out they both live in Kigali. They offered us a ride back and a place to crash in Kigali for a night before our flight back to Dar es Salaam. We took them up on it and had another great day in Kigali.

We are in Dar es Salaam now waiting for our Indian visas (hopefully we can pick them up at the Indian High Commission on Tuesday), and if all else goes well, we should be off for India by the end of next week.

Michael

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Rwanda

Rwanda is the land of a thousand hills - a fitting description which barely hints at the splendor of this tiny country in central Africa. The drive here through Burundi (see details from Michael) was harrowing but also breathtakingly beautiful. After weeks of driving through the dry season bush of Zambia and Tanzania, the rolling hills lush with banana plantations and terraced farms was a refreshing change of scenery. We were even glad to see a few clouds in the sky and to feel a hint of dampness in the air. In addition to the natural beauty, the pace of development seems more visibly evident in Rwanda than anywhere else we had been. The roads are paved or under repair, shoulders and guardrails are placed where needed, construction sites are everywhere, and fiberoptic cables are being installed. The paper reports decreased malaria rates with the distribution of mosquito nets and improving rates of childhood vaccinations. In one forward-thinking move, plastic bags have been outlawed - they're bad for the future of the environment, right? Not only are they illegal but they're subject to being confiscated if found upon a search at the border. (This was a bit inconvenient, as in addition to my laundry being in a plastic bag, I had organized my socks and unmentionables into 1 gallon ziplocks. Plus, what ever would I do with liquids? Luckily, the border guards were not zealous enough to take all of them - just confiscated a couple to show that they were doing their jobs.)

Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, is a cosmopolitan city with a vibrant international presence and prices to match. (We saw more white people within an hour of our arrival here than we had seen in the past several weeks!) There are marked roads, modern buildings, and evidence of new commerce and development at every turn. After weeks of instant coffee, we indulged a cup of delicious and aromatic Rwandan coffee, at a swanky overpriced coffee bar. The well-lit streets with wide sidewalks felt quite safe, even at night, and we even treated ourselves to our first 4-star hotel of the journey. (Did we imagine the sneers from the lobby full of businessmen and diplomates when we walked in with our tustled hair and dusty packs? We were used to being stared at for being the only Mzungu but these suits looked like they had never seen backpackers before!) The Hotel Des Milles Collines sits near the top of a hill in the center of town with a beautiful view of the surrounding hills and countryside, lounge chairs and hammocks on a manicured lawn, a poolside bar showing CNN in HD, and a fancy restaurant on the top floor. It looks like any other upscale hotel full of elegantly dressed patrons, and it is seems possible to sip a beer and read a book by the pool without considering the history of the place: the Hotel Des Milles Collines is featured in the movie 'Hotel Rwanda' which is based on the story of hundreds who took refuge there during the 1994 Tutsi genocide.
 
Indeed, it seems nearly impossible to reconcile the current 'just another up and coming international city' atmosphere in Kigali with the events that transpired in Rwanda 16 years ago.

Of course I remember studying the history of the Nazi Holocaust in gradeschool and highschool. Even though my grandfathers served in the 2nd world war, I never knew either of them and the horrific stories in my text books seemed to come from another world as well as another time. At any rate, I remember it being quite clear from the textbooks who were the good guys and who were the bad guys, and of course my countrymen had been with the good guys who not only marched into eastern Europe to shut down the concentration camps, but then got together with all the other 'good guys' in the UN to make a promise to the world that the international community would never again standby and let genocide happen (the 1948 genocide convention). I have visited the Holocaust Memorials in Boston, Washington DC and Los Angeles, and each time was hit with an appropriately solemn reverence for the victims of history as well as an appreciation for the importance of remembering such events in order that, according to the prevailing wisdom, the world would never again stand by and let such things happen. It seemed like such an easy and believable promise to come from all those powerful civilized countries. Never forget....never again.  I may have even bought one of the buttons.

But in 1994 I was a sophmore at Boston College in the midst of a weighty pre-med curriculum. I vaguely remember hearing about genocide and refugees in Africa, but although I had a quite respectable GPA, I probably could not have found Rwanda on a map. I may have watched heard on the news briefs that their were people called Tutsis and others called Hutus and that they shared a country but did not get along...but did I ever take the time to understand what was happening? Not really. It was so far away, so remote, and it probably seemed more important, if not easier, that I study my organic chemistry.

As it turns out, I wasn't the only one neglecting to pay attention to what was happening. Not that I had an excuse: if a supposedly social-justice minded college sophmore couldn't manifest a little outrage about a genocide in Africa, than it is no great surprise that, due to politics or inconvenience, others could not be bothered with it either. And so, as I visited the genocide memorial sites here in Rwanda, I could not have the comfort that I was on the team of the good guys who would never let this happen again. Instead, I faced the unsettling reality that I was a part of a large international community that chose not to pay attention as a million Rwandans were brutally murdered over the course of 100 days from April to June of 1994. (Ironically, Schindler's List topped the box offices during this time while another genocide raged on unnoticed.)

I'm not sure which part of our tour through the Rwandan memorial sites was the most powerful, but I'm quite certain that I couldn't describe any of it adequately. The driver that we hired for the day revealed that he was a Tutsi who lost 4 of 6 siblings to the genocide, who himself survived by smearing dirt on his face and wandering the town aimlessly pretending to be crazy. We visited the grenade and bullet shattered remains of Roman Catholic Churches where thousands saught refuge only to be given over to the genocidaires and murdered in the pews. Blood still stained the altar cloth and the statue of Mary and bullet holes riddled the sacristy but most striking to me were the provisions that people had brought along with them - beans, thermoses, crossward puzzles - to sustain and entertain themselves - evidence of their faith that they would survive once safe in the sanctuary of the Church. We visited the site of a mass grave where thousands were murdered just after most UN forces(from whom they had saught protection) were evacuated. In addition to the graves, the site is also now home to a center which is attempting to document the names of the victims - a daunting task given that so many families and neighborhoods left no survivors to name the dead.  Finally, we visited the Kigali Memorial Center, which contained numerous symbolic gardens to memorialize the victims as well as educational exhibits which put the genocide in the context of the history of Rwanda as well as that of other incidences of genocide (Armenians, Cambodians, Jews, Bosnians....the list is not very short).

Which brings me to history, another subject that I didn't pay much attention to in school. I remember a romanticized version of European history, a sanitized version of U.S. history, and lots of dates to memorize for exams. I don't remember learning much about the history of Africa, of the 'dark continent', of undeveloped or uncivilized countries where tribes that looked intriguing on the pages of National Geographic could turn savage at the least provocation. As I ponder the atrocities that took place in Rwanda I start to realize how little I understand about what is currently happening in Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan, Somalia or any of the war torn or 'failed states' on this continent. I realize that my comprehension of current conflicts and social injustice is limited by my meager understanding of the history of these regions. Rather than 'savages in the dark continent' these are people in nations not yet 50 years free from colonization, whose borders were sketched out at conferences of European nations with no input from Africans nor consideration of their history or values.

There was too much to think about as we took a taxi back to Kigali, sat down for a cup of freshly brewed Rwandan coffee and watched the midday hustle and bustle of the people who try to move on and rebuild with memories that must be still fresh in so many minds. At first we were hardly able to talk about it, and for the most part we are left with inadequate words and more questions than answers. Although there is peace and progress on the surface in Rwanda, we wonder what sentiments live in the hearts and minds of the people there. It is difficult not to be suspicious of propaganda from a president who was just reelected with 93% of the vote. Or of the motivations of aid money that pours in from an international community that turned its back when it was most needed. A strong leader or a dictator; philanthropy or neocolonialism? The idiot's guidebook for recovery from genocide has not yet been written.
I'm not sure what the answer is, but I think it starts with paying a little more attention....for me it starts by trying to learn more about the history of this continent and to pay more attention to world events, even those that seem too far away to matter.  Since leaving the Kigali Memorial Center, I keep thinking of a line of lyrics by Ani Difranco: "cause I know the biggest crime is just to throw up your hands say this has nothing to do with me I just want to live as comfortably as I can."

Colleen
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Burundi: Fear of the Unknown

The sad reality about the world is that much of it is not really safe to travel. Choose your poison, civil unrest, wars, repressive governments, etc. any of these can make it so that a trip through a country can be unwise, if not downright unsafe.A good example would be Burundi. Burundi has had a troubled history since Independence from Belgium in the early sixties. Most recently, the country is coming off a 15 year civil war with ethnic violence claiming more than 200,000 lives, and displacing hundreds of thousands of more. While peace accords have recently been signed, and many refugees have returned, the country still faces many challenges. Burundi is one of the ten poorest countries in the world, it has the lowest per capita GDP of any nation in the world, and Although elections were held recently, political violence is still a problem and the main rebel group has not completely disarmed.

Burundi's Flag

As it (selfishly) concerns our travel plans however, Burundi is notable only as the place you have to go through to get from Kigoma to Kigali (our next destination). Look it up on a map. Straight shot from Kigoma to Bujumbura, overnight in Bujumbura, then a straight shot to Kigali the next morning. We just weren't sure if it was safe, and it was difficult to get reliable information about the current security situation in Burundi. We had met a couple in Tanzania who lived in Bujumbura, who said it wasn't that bad, and all the African people we talked to (hotel managers, the first mate on the Liemba, representative at the Burundian consulate, etc.) all insisted that Bujumbura was totally safe now. On the other hand the US State Department and Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs travel advisories were pretty dire, as were any news reports out of Burundi (the few that exist). We wouldn't have even considered going through Burundi, except that the alternatives were not very attractive. We could take a series of one way flights to back to Dar es Salaam, then on to Kigali, which was too expensive to ever be really feasible, or a take a rough series of overland bus rides through Tanzania parallel to Burundi on terrible roads in tiny, dangerous minivans with overnight stops in little villages that we knew nothing about, and uncertain means of transportation over the Rwandan border at Rusomo and on to Kigali. We discussed it a lot, and finally decided to trust the advice we were getting on the ground and go through Burundi. As with pretty much everything else we do in Africa, the trip ended up being a bit of an adventure. 



The journey started with the bus from Kigoma. We were assured by an agent at the bus station (less of a bus station than an open area in the market behind the gas station on the outskirts of town), that a bus would depart the next morning and would travel directly to Bujumbura stopping only at the border. This suited us perfectly, and we thought we were all set. Unfortunately, we did not account for swahili time. as we came to find out, Swahili speakers have a different way of telling time. Their day starts at sun up, so to them, 6am is 0, 7am is 1, 8am is 2, and so on. So between the agent's lack of english, our lack of swahili, and swahili time, something must have got mixed up, because when we showed up the next morning, no bus. There was however a stationwagon. Its driver assured us he could get us to the border where we could then easily arrange onward travel to Bujumbura. Sure, why not? So we packed in our bags, and crammed ourselves into the back seat for the one hour ride to the border. We were joined by a a Kenyan who had studied in Boston, and a Rwandan woman and her child. Actually, we ended up staying with them all the way through to Bujumbura, and I have to say that they really helped us out, and we were very thankful for their company.

The first sign that we would be in for an interesting day came about 20 minutes into the ride when two guys with machine guns flagged us down for a ride. One was wearing a military uniform and the other jeans and a soccer jersey. Not that big a deal, there are guys with guns all over Africa, and these guys just wanted a ride down the road. It definitely dampened the mood in the stationwagon while they were there though, and kind of set a tone for the rest of the day.


Our driver would only go as far as the Tanzanian side of the border, so we had to get out, get stamped out of Tanzania at the customs post, and arrange onward passage with one of the drivers waiting at the border. With the help of our fellow passengers, we were able to secure another driver with a stationwagon that would take the 5 of us through the Burundian border post and on to a town where we could arrange for a ride on a local minivan bus on to Bujumbura. Aside from raised eyebrows from the Burundian immigration authorities (I don't think a lot of whiteys pass through their post), everything went off without a hitch, I even got to use my French with the customs people and the army guards (Burundi's second language is French). That is until one of our tires blew. Small wonder really, the roads were atrocious. Of course our driver had no spare, so he had to call a colleague to bring him one. So we waited on the side of the road (more of a dirt path) for around an hour for the spare to arrive, a rather loud disagreement break out (there was some bad blood between the two drivers), and the tire change to be effected before we got back underway.  



Driving through Burundi



Before we got to the town where our driver was going to drop us off, our travel companions suggested that we pay our driver to take us all the way to Bujumbura. It would only cost us a couple of extra dollars, small price to pay for not having to deal with local buses. Our driver wouldn't do it, but he would hand us of to a friend of his in the next town that would. The only problem with the plan was that the new driver wanted to be paid in Burundian francs, not Tanzanian schillings. I only had schillings, and an ATM was at least three hours away, so, we would have to change our money with a local money changer. Anyone who has travelled in a southern country is familiar with money changers, young hustlers with wads of currency and rates that are usually better than banks or hotels walking up and down the main roads, especially near borders, trying to hawk their services. Usually they are fine, but you definitely have to be on guard. This situation required a little more attention than usual as the sudden appearance of two whiteys in a car with four Africans caused a bit of a stir in the small town. Our car was quickly surrounded by curious onlookers, not exactly ideal conditions for a financial transaction. So the money changer squeezed into the car with us and we all made our transactions as the driver drove around town away from prying eyes.  



Francs in hand, we were off to Bujumbura, and I have to say that hiring that car all the way through to Bujumbura was the best decision I have ever made. Not twenty minutes into the drive, we passed the smashed and twisted shell of a minivan bus that had recently crashed. Very recently, blood was everywhere. Our driver asked and was told by some local children that only 4 people had survived. We've seen these buses all over Africa, and they are usually very crowded, fifteen to twenty people typically. Burundi and Rwanda are very hilly countries, and the roads are steep and curvy. Add to that the fact that the minivan buses are usually on the verge of falling apart and the drivers are maniacal, you get a recipe for disaster. This was borne out when we saw another crash site half an hour later. There were fatalities our driver said, I did not ask how many.

  

Bujumbura

Aside from that, the drive was beautiful. Green rolling hills, with palm trees, acacias and even some bamboo. Terraced farm plots on impossibly steep hills surrounding small mud brick homes that seemed to be shoved into the mountainside. All the while Lake Tanganyika and the mountains of the Congo looming in the distance. We hadn't really seen anything green in a couple of months, so this was almost like a relief to us, and we were glued to the window drinking it all in. The only thing that interrupted our sightseeing was the frequent army and police checkpoints. They were a little intimidating at first. There is something unnerving about having a bunch of guys with machine guns rifle through your stuff. Not to mention the fact that every time we would stop, a large group of onlookers would surround our car. I don't think non-africans have used this road in ages, and we must have made quite a sight. Our travel companions gave us the scoop on what was really going on though. It was Saturday, and the policemen and soldiers were just looking for bribes so they could go drinking after they got off their shift. Actually, you could see it in our driver's face, a sort of "aw come on guys" look as he watched his profits disappear at each checkpoint. Also, we were told that they were probably just curious to see what might be in a white person's bag. 



We reached Bujumbura around one thirty and had the driver drop us off at a hotel we had looked up previously. Bujumbura was great. Because of the trouble they've had here, the city has had no real development in decades, and seems to be stuck in a time warp. It is an up and comer though. coffee / tea houses (Burundi grows some first rate coffees and teas), trendy bars and restaurants, new construction etc. all point to a revival, and we felt completely safe there, to the point that we even walked around a bit at night. We loved it. As a matter of fact, I would say that to date, Bujumbura is my favourite African city.  



In writing all of the above, I've tried to sound clever and try to be a little entertaining in telling the story. I can do that now because it is over and we are safe. In fact, while it was all happening, I was quite anxious, even downright afraid. I think that it has to do with not knowing. For example, Philadelphia is a dangerous city, probably more dangerous in parts than anywhere in Burundi, and we lived there for years with no problems. The difference is that I know where the problems are in Philadelphia and can easily avoid them. This is obviously not the case in places you visit for only a short time and know nothing about. While I think that we made the right decision to rely on the information we obtained from local people, the information could have been incomplete or flat out wrong, and it may have been dumb luck that we made it through unscathed. Having said that, I'm glad we chose to go through Burundi. I know that we were only there for a day, but my definite impression is that the country is on the right path, and it's just that the world doesn't know it yet. I also feel like we were lucky to be able to see Burundi at this stage in their history. I would bet that if we were to go back in ten years, we wouldn't recognize the place.



welcome to Rwanda



Anyway, the next day we boarded a bus for Kigali. The border crossing went off without a hitch and three hours later, we were in Rwanda's capitol. Rwanda is stunning. The hills go on forever dotted with small towns and terraced fields climbing up the hillsides. The drive from the border to Kigali had some of the most stunning scenery I've ever seen. However,. I have to say that I felt a little uneasy about being in Rwanda. The Genocide there was not so long ago, and I'm not sure exactly how to feel about being surrounded by victims, perpetrators and collaborators of such a heinous thing. The next few days would chrystalize some of those feelings, but you'll have to wait for Colleen's next posting for that

Michael

Ruhengeri (Musanze), Rwanda

Lusaka to Kigoma: Off the Beaten Path

There is a certain type of independent traveller for whom getting off the beaten path can be a bit of an obsession. While I can certainly sympathize with avoiding other tourists, and seeing things that most people miss out on, I wouldn't say that I was an proponent of this type of travel as an end in itself. Sure you could go to Iowa to avoid all tourists, but you would still be in Iowa. I prefer choosing a place I really like then doing my best to avoid the crowd once I get there. However, on the rare occasions where you can get to somewhere great, AND be the only one there, well, that can be something really special.



Our itinerary to date has been somewhat loose, actually, we've sort of been making it up as we go along. So when we got back to Lusaka from Livingstone, we had to make a decision, east to Malawi or west to Lake Tanganyika. Each route had their pros and cons, but we eventually decided on the "the one less travelled" and headed west. The first leg involved a 14 hour overnight bus from Lusaka to the small port town of Mpulungu (Colleen's favourite African place name to date) on the shores of lake Tanganyika. Our first hint that we were getting off the beaten path was the bus ride itself. Not only were we were the only non-Africans making the trip, the villages and towns we were passed along the way didn't exactly have a riviera feel to them.



Sunset in Mpulungu

The next leg of the journey would involve a 2 day boat ride all the way up lake Tanganyika to Kigoma on the MV Liemba. We had timed our arrival such that we would only have to spend one night in Mpulungu before boarding the boat and heading north. Perfect plan except for the Congolese refugees. It turns out that the UN is in the precess of closing several refugees camps in Zambia and repatriating the refugees back to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC).. In order to assist in the effort, they commandeered the Liemba. Our overnight stop turned into a 9 day waiting game. Mpulungu was not exactly the kind of place you want to spend a week either. Only one paved road, no internet, dusty, hot as hell, and when we asked the Charity, manager at the lodge we were staying at, if she could recommend any restaurants in town, she said that we should avoid them all due to frequent cholera outbreaks, and that the town also had, in her words, "too much malaria". Cholera outbreaks, too much malaria, and refugees interrupting your travel plans are usually a pretty good sign that you are off the beaten path.

Mpulungu market

All you can do at that point is to make the best of it, and we did. Not having a restaurant to rely on, we cooked for ourselves, which in turn forced us to shop at the local market each day which was quite fun. Being a fishing town fresh fish was always available, we would actually buy it off the fishermen at the shores of the lake. Charity even showed me how to clean the fish myself. While there is no danger of me turning into a world class fish cleaner, the end results were quite tasty. There wasn't any real tourist infrastructure about (another sign of being off the beaten path), but we tried to fill our days with whatever local attractions we could find. We hired a couple of fishermen to boat us across the harbour to a small island for a swim, we hired a car to take us to Kalumbo falls (2nd highest in Africa), and even had a chance to do some snorkeling which was a real highlight for me (lake Tanganyika is full of cichlid fish which are as colourful and beautiful as any I've seen in the Caribbean). Also, as the days went by a few more travellers filtered into town and we had a couple of really nice nights sharing meals, beers and conversation. The funniest moment of the week was when we asked one of the newcomers why he had chosen Mpulungu as a destination, he replied " I like to get off the beaten path" then he thought about it a bit, then added "actually I may have gone a bit far this time." All in all a pleasant stay, but when the boat was ready to go, so were we.

 

The MV Liemba is an old (pre WW I) german warship. Germany used to be the colonial power in East Africa, and the Liemba, formerly the Graff Von Gotzen, was used to patrol the lake. After the war, it was converted to a cargo / passenger vessel that is now basically the only link that villages along the eastern shores of lake Tanganyika have to the outside world. A two day ride on a 100 year old WW I warship - count me in. As if that wasn't enough to hook me, one of my favourite movies of all time is the African Queen with Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn, and the Liemba looks exactly like the ship they were trying to blow up in the movie.

Loading the Liemba

What a journey. There are 19 stops between Mpulungu and Kigoma, and only Mpulungu, Kigoma, and Kasanga had ports. At every other stop, the villagers had to boat out to meet us and load and unload at sea. Quite a spectacle. Imagine four or five wooden boats some with motors, some with only oar power, loaded to the point of overflowing with people, livestock and cargo, racing as fast as they can to catch the Liemba before it stops so they can be the first to unload. The Liemba has two small doors (one each side) about a meter above the water line where the local boats would load and unload. We would watch from the upper deck as the local boats would jostle for position, tie up to the Liemba then unload their cargo. Men and women in their sunday best, children and babies, giant bags of maize and dried fish, chickens, beer, apples, bicycles, a living room set, cooking oil - you name it, all were manhandled through the tiny doors, while some of the heavier loads were hoisted on board by the Liemba's crane. All the while everyone seemed to be shouting at each other and there seemed to be a panicked rush to everything. Absolute pandemonium, I've never seen anything quite like it. The night stops were even more impressive, all of the above, but lit by the moon and the Liemba's dim floodlights.

The Liemba's main deck

We took on so much that by the end of the journey, the decks were overflowing with cargo (mainly dried fish whose smell, after two days at sea, pretty much permeated everything) and passengers trying to get fresh air (most passengers are berthed below the main deck, a pretty grim area that was even worse after a couple of days). We booked first class, so we had a cabin on the main deck and always had a private place to go, but we had to gingerly step over sleeping bodies to get to the bathroom at night. We did have the upper deck mostly to ourselves though, and we would make sure we got together with a few of the other passengers for a sundowner or two consisting of crackling wine (cheap South African version of sparkling wine) and cane and tonic (basically sugarcane moonshine and tonic water - Colleen coined the 'cane and tonic' bit in an effort to keep it classy).

 

So we had a pretty amazing couple of weeks. A taste of African Village life in Mpulungu and a once in a lifetime adventure on Lake Tanganyika. We were way, way off the beaten path, but, thankfully, we were never got anywhere near Iowa.

Anyway, we are in Burundi now (no kidding, we re really in Burundi, but more on that in the next blog), and will leave tomorrow morning for Kigali and our rendez-vous with the mountain gorillas.

Michael

Novotel Hotel

Bujumbura, Burundi

Chobe: Just a dab of Botswana

After we finished our 7 day tour of the Serengeti and nearby parks in Tanzania Michael and I thought we would check African Safari off our list (at least for this trip). The Serengeti has always been my idea of the quintessential African landscape, and getting to see that park as well as the very unique landscapes and ecosystems in nearby Ngorongoro, Tarangire and Manyara - it surpassed all of my expectations, even if I didn't get to see all of the 'Big 5'!

But, as it turns out, traveling is not really about checking things off a bucket list - we've talked to some people we've met on the road and it turns out that the more you see and the more people you meet and talk to about their experiences, the must-see list just gets longer and longer. It's like that cliche that goes something like, 'the more you learn the more you realize how little you know' or in this case, 'the more you see the more you realize how much more there is to see'. So, rather than check 'African Safari' off our list, we realized that we could kinda check off 'Tanzanian Northern Safari circuit in the dry season' but we needed to add: Serengeti in the wet season, wildebeest migration and mass birthing of wildebeest calves (apparently best seen in February), the Masai Mara in Kenya, South Luangwa National Park in Zambia, Kruger in South Africa, and The Okavango Delta and Chobe National park in Botswana. Also still to be experienced remained the canoe safari, the night safari, the walking safari, and even the hot air balloon safari - to name a few.



Another little thrill of traveling is collecting all those stamps in your passport - the more stamps that overlap on another and smudge together, the more of a cool little memento that passport becomes, so while it seems silly to admit it, many travelers are tempted by the opportunity to acquire another stamp or 2. Therefore, after recovering from Michael's near-death experience at Devil's hole, when we looked at the map and saw just how close Livingstone was to the border with Botswana, and then learned that US and Canadian citizens don't even need to pay for a visa to go there, it wasn't very hard for us to get hooked by an overnight camping trip to Chobe.



Just one more safari, just a short one, just a dab of Botswana...



So at 7AM, bags packed, we hopped into the open back of the Canvas-topped shuttle to the Kazungula border crossing. (The border between Zambia and Botswana is said to be the shortest between any two countries in the world) The hour and a half drive to the border was surprisingly chilly, but wool blankets were provided to keep us warm. The countries of Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and Namibia converge at the Kazungula crossing, and the exact lines that indicate where one ends and the neighbor begins is still controversial according to some sources. Nonetheless, it was quite peaceful and surprisingly organized as we got stamped out of Zambia, bordered a small (maybe 21-ft) motor boat across the Zambezi (past a patch of

Namibia), and entered Botswana where we headed through immigration, wiped our feet on the 'foot and mouth disease control' mat, and boarded another vehicle with an astonishing lack of hassle. (I have to check the science on how well a wet mat protects against foot and mouth disease, but I suspect at least as well as taking off one's shoes protects against airline hijacking.)



Immediately over the border, Botswana had a decidedly different feel. The roads had not only tarmac, but recently painted yellow and white lines to mark the lanes, little orange reflectors on the side, wide paved shoulders, and even street lights. There were modern-looking street signs and even a golf course! Most buildings were made of cement and had a recent coat of paint, and even the more ramshackle buildings looked like they were standing pretty firmly. Where barbed wire was indicated, there was actual barbed wire, rather than the collection of broken class lining the walls that we had been seeing. Now it didn't look particularly affluent, unless of course you had recently traveled overland through rural Tanzania and Zambia...

Enter Chobe National Park. Even in Tanzania, each of the parks we visited had its own personality, and while one can make comparisons, it is really not possible to say one is better or worse than another, just that each is truly unique, and this was again the case here in Chobe. The most dominant personality here seemed to be the water. Sounds ridiculous, but we are visiting Africa in the dry season, so water comes at a premium. The common theme (not rocket science) is that all the animals that depend on fresh water sources must seek them out in the dry season. In the Serengeti this meant a trickle of a stream here or a watering hole there. Here we found the Chobe River - not a parched river bed, but a fully flowing river! We boarded a ferry and rode up the river to see what we would see - and guess what we saw? All the animals had found the river too! There they all were, just where you would expect them to be, along the edge of the river enjoying the water.  After wandering from dried up to not-yet-fully dried up waterhole in the Serengeti this was almost too easy! The animals looked like they had reached the land of mild and honey. I may be reading too much into this but they looked happier and less stressed...like they were just enjoying a day at the beach. Water to drink, grass to eat, mud to bathe in - what more could one want? Even the wart hogs didn't look so pathetic.

Along the river all the wildlife was much more concentrated than what we had seen before, so there were no long drives over vast desert landscape...after the boat ride our game drives consisted of repeating the same loop along the river road. Also, since this was a bonus safari for us we did not feel as rushed, not wanting to miss anything, but could just relax and take it all in - just a day at the beach - like the animals. And we had an amazing guide who knew the park his own backyard and the sense, or instinct to predict what the animals would do if we only had the patience to sit and watch and wait until...

 -a herd of elephants swam across the river ahead of our boat.

 -an incredibly large hippo decided we got too close for his liking and charged our boat (swam so fast after us that it left its own wake!)

 -an elephant carcass on the other side of the river got consumed by flocks of vultures (even at half a kilometer away, that smelled incredibly awful!)

-we heard the shots of a poacher from our campsite.

-we saw a leopard climb up a tree from which we could hear (but not see) it rip apart the carcass of its prey before coming down to sit in the sun and calmly lick the blood off its paws (sorry, Aileen...but the rhino still eludes us)

-we got to witness a pride of lions hunt a wart hog. The choreography was amazing - watching them approach from different directions to surround their prey. (Unfortunately for us the wart-hog ran through the brush and out of our site so we did not get to see how that turned out!)



That and a couple of stamps in our passport - not so bad for an overnight in Botswana...

(By the way; it's now been over 2 weeks since our Botswana safari - the trip from there back to Tanzania has been quite the adventure - stay tuned for details from Michael...)

Colleen

Lake Tanganyika Hotel

Kigoma, Tanzania