a country with a thousand hills

Immediately after Kakuma, I boarded a tiny, old-timey, UN prop plane and got back to Nairobi and rushed from one airport to the other for a flight into Kampala. Traffic was horrible. Stress was high. I arrived though, and the flight was an hour delayed. Silly of me to think otherwise.

I arrived in Kampala on the eve of their presidential election to meet Jonathan, get a couple of beers, dance to a couple of songs and board a bus to Kigali on Friday morning. We had our tickets in hand and piled on a motorbike and got to the bus station with time to spare:
"What time does the bus leave for Kigali, sir?"
{woman next to him} "Eh?! Tsssst."
"I'm not sure what that means.."
"No bus to Kigali today. Your tickets are wrong."

Perfect! crisis adverted though, we hopped on another dodgier bus and sat (quite crowded) for 8 hours to a town named Kabale, where our plan was to hop various public transport the remaining 2 hours into Kigali. Like a guardian angel though a man approached us and asked if we wanted a ride to Kigali for $5. Yes! He had recruited two other Ugandans working in Rwanda who had come home to vote that morning and we had a lovely, comfortable, effortless ride into Rwanda. We talked about Obama (as one does), and how the ripple of that election was felt by African men everywhere ("Everyday I think, if Obama can do it {insert an accomplishment}, so can I.") He even dropped us off at the restaurant Grace was working at. Door to door service. Hospitality as only Africans know how.

jonathan (and his man purse) with our chariot

Friday night was lovely. The hospitality only continued. The people Grace has surrounded herself with are funny and smart and generous and wonderful company. We sat and ate delicious food (theme of the weekend) and then went out, danced a bit, found a Rwandan man who thought Jonathan was "so special," then wandered back to their patio and sat up talking till the early morning eating passion fruit. Saturday we lounged. We picnicked. We ran errands. We sat and drank iced coffee and passion juice for hours. Then we went to eat some more. A wonderful restaurant on a hill where a giant (i mean humungous) fish is served whole with potatoes and you dig in with your hands and you leave feeling gluttonous, but happy. Saturday night a movie was projected and we lounged (do you also notice a pattern?) in the living room on big mattresses.

brunch picnic in grace's garden

the inside of a big yellow van that will safely guide fun-loving people around s. africa (it's coming along nicely)

a lovely fish dinner overlooking kigali's lights in the background (if you squint you can see everyone in the darkness)

Sunday we woke up! And went on a road trip! In a convertible! Out to Kibuye, which is on Lake Kivu. It borders Congo. It was a scene of horrible crimes in '94. It is painfully beautiful. You should read the wikipedia page. We stopped at a church that I went to 6 years ago. Six years ago I found a dance troupe of young girls singing hymns on the balcony, this time the church was still beautiful, but quiet. As we frantically snapped pictures, however, the man in charge told Shawn if we were really there to take pictures in the house of God, we may want to move on. Noted. Sometimes I forget that churches aren't simply a nice piece of architecture for me to gawk at while on vacation in a foreign place. There is a lot of faith in those walls.

grace and i in the back of the convertible

a view from the car

raph and the car that got us there

what all of rwanda looks like: green and hilly

the inside of the church

more food!

a view of lake kivu

Then we just sat by the water and ate fried fish and drank beer. We ended the experience with a walk out to the peninsula and a lovely, star-filled, music-packed, windy, 3-hour ride back into Kigali. The city they call home is gorgeous. You could eat off the streets they are so clean. (although, not without controversy) Rwanda does not allow plastic bags. The motorcycle drivers are required to have helmets (even for passengers!). The police do not take bribes. There is no traffic. Rwanda drives on the right (as in the direction, not necessarily 'correct') side of the road. The Rwandan people were found to be a bit more cold than Kenyans. Kenyans want to chat and joke and dance and flirt and Rwandans seemed to be a bit more reserved. Quieter. The whole city was quieter.

It was a perfect weekend. A lovely vacation. My cell phone didn't work. I attempted to remember 4 words of French. The company was wonderful. It made me happy to be here.