Rwanda – Land of a Thousand Hills

The border procedures are smooth once again, especially for Ben who doesn’t even need a visa since Rwanda is part of the commonwealth. Who would have thunk. After negotiating a slightly terrible exchange rate from Ugandan Shillings to Rwandan Francs we’re off to Musanze.

We notice the difference in population density straight away. It might be because it’s Sunday but who knows. There is an unbroken stream of people on the road. Though most seem friendly we feel slightly intimidated. We don’t stop until we reach the town where we‘ll be staying with some Warmshowers hosts and meeting up with Jonathan – a fellow cyclist from the UK we met by chance in Uganda.

Funny how sometimes you just click with people. Over dinner we find out that Jonathan is not just a Parks & Rec fan (one of our favorite tv shows), but also went to Bristol’s finest UWE around the same time Ben studied there. The world is a small place. He gives us an induction to Rwanda and helps us plan a much longer itinerary for the country than we had originally intended.

Instead of heading straight to Kigali we take a more circuitous route via lake Kivu in the west and Nyungwe national park. This is definitely the scenic route, with views that seem almost Mediterranean if it weren’t for the tea fields on the hills.

Our first stop is at a Christian nunnery right on the lakeshore. We’re of course married for that one. After enjoying a swim with no curious onlookers for once we hear a weird scream. A man is thrashing in the water a few meters away. At first we think it’s another joke at the expense of the foreigners. But Ben spots the panic in the man’s eyes and jumps in to help him back to shore. The man had slipped and fallen in the lake which gets deep quite quickly. And just like that Ben saves a life.

The country has been ruled by Paul Kagame for 25 years. His particular brand of autocracy is quite different to Uganda‘s. In Rwanda you will hardly find rubbish, there is a community day once a month where people pick up litter or help maintain public buildings, whatever needs doing. All motorcycle taxis only have one passenger (not up to four as we’ve seen before) and both driver and passenger wear helmets (that don’t quite fit).

Rwanda is often mentioned as a prodigy amongst African countries. Undoubtedly the government has done a lot for the people since the Rwandan genocide (about which we‘ll learn more in Kigali). But the wealth inequality is way more pronounced here than in Uganda. The road is shared by fancy Mercedes SUVs and bicycle taxis ferrying bananas or jerrycans of drinking water up the steep hills.

At a beautiful campsite overlooking the lake the owner Ernest tells us about his rural school project. 60% of the kids come from households that can’t afford schooling. Often the parents leave the kids at home all day without breakfast or lunch while they work to earn a meager dinner for the family. This definitely puts the lack of social skills of some of the begging children into perspective.

Communication has gotten a lot more difficult since we crossed the border. Some older people still speak a little French (a remnant of the country’s Belgian colonial past). English is taught at school but most people only know “good morning” and “give me my money”. Through mime, pidgin English and imploring looks we get by but it often feels quite draining. Belatedly we learn at least some words in Kinyarwanda which secures us lots of smiles and laughter.

The further we cycle south the harder the days get. Now 70km and more than 1000m of elevation gain are no oddity anymore. The roads are mostly in perfect condition though and the views (if not obscured by the rain clouds) are spectacular. Rwanda has very few natural forests left, agriculture has swallowed most of them. So we’re glad we can cycle through Nyungwe forest – one of three national parks. We spot turacos, L’Hoest’s monkeys, a jungelope (for lack of the real name) and tons of soldiers with machine guns protecting us from them… Or them from us. We’re not quite sure.

These days we often have to make do with only dry muffins for lunch. Street food is not allowed for some reason and the villages are so crowded (+ personal space is not really a thing), so we’re not inclined to hang around to look for a restaurant. The meagre rations don’t exactly propel us up the steep hills and we catch ourselves drooling while thinking about the cafes of Kigali. The money we saved by staying in the cheapest guest houses befriending cockroaches will be well spent on our days off in the big city.