The Essence of the Journey!

Burundi and Rwanda – The Unexpected

By: Celeste

 

Beautiful butterflies in Burundi & Rwanda, like this Mother of Pearl

Sometimes people happen upon our paths, or we happen upon theirs, for a reason. Thus we met a group of motorcyclists of mixed nationalities at Jakobsen’s Beach outside of Kigoma, Tanzania. Armed with some advice, we headed for a country not on our plans for c2c at all – Burundi. An excellent, winding tarred road led us across peaks and valleys to the Kamonanira Border Post. We had the privilege of watching a border official opening up according to a strict daily schedule: first a few Christian songs on the cellphone; the placing and raising of the flag; tying back the curtains; reading and tidying of papers.

 

Not 20m on the road becomes nasty. Passing under a wooden pole structure from which leaves were hanging, we entered into Burundi. Mugina is just a police post where it took ages for all the niceties due to reading challenges. Hooting behind hurriedly shifted us to the right side of the road. Pardon moi! 25kms further there is a border post of sorts at Mabanda where we felt rather intimidated by large crowds of onlookers surrounding the vehicle – touching, banging and peering in.

 

Descending the hairpin bends is dizzying and sent ‘Charlie’ into a spin. Nyanza Lac is a sprawling town, as were others along the lakeside route up the eastern edge of Lake Tanganyika up to the capital, Bujumbura. Badly potholed, streaked with bumps and well patrolled by policemen, the pace was slow. No sign of the Burton-Speke nor the Stanley-Livingstone monuments marked on the map. Bush stops were nigh impossible due to the highly populated areas. Colourful clothes are the order of the day, the brighter and more luminous the better – oranges, pinks and greens.

 

The capital city is larger and cleaner and quieter than expected. I suppose they are following the no-litter example first enforced in Rwanda. We B&B at the Hotel du Lac Tanganyika Hotel on the Lake, cuddling up on the bed with pizzas to watch the Wimbledon Finals. Go Federer!

 

After solving “The Strange Case of the Faulty, Smoking Wiring under Staffie’s Bonnet”, we spend our second night at the lovely Bora Bora guesthouse. A few groceries (very few at those high prices), some postage and we left town, within our 48-hour transit visa period – also not inexpensive at US$40 each.

 

The main road to Kayanza was lined with beautiful plantations and crops, lush and well-maintained. The poor banana boys struggled under heavy loads on their bicycles up and down the steep roads. Motion sickness kept the kids safe from schoolwork for another day. The border at the Akonyaru River was a push-and-shove as a busload arrived – first come is not necessarily first-served.

 

The border official in Rwanda was welcoming until we were awarded our first search of the trip. A few sides of the trailer and two computer cases luckily satisfied his needs – we did not feel too bad as the car in front had its suitcases and boot thoroughly checked.

 

Nyungwe National Park surpassed all expectations: a verdant vegetation mosaic of montane rainforest on the Congo-Nile watershed. The excellent information centre at Uwinka (meaning ‘çow mountain’) kept us busy for a few hours, particularly fascinated by the “Source of the Nile”. Did you know that a further source of the Nile was found in 2006 by three Irish modern day explorers so that its total length is now 107km longer than previously thought? We were saddened by the tale of the last elephant poached in the forest swamp in 1999 – known as the Kamiranzovu Swamps – “the place that swallows elephants”. Although chimp and gorilla tracking were on offer, we rather enjoyed nature and birding walks. The largest group of 400-strong Black-and-white Colobus (Colobus angolensis ruwenzori) were in attendance, noisily feeding, jumping, squabbling and the ‘vulnerable’ L’Hoest’s Mountain Monkey (Cercopithecus L’hoesti) were gorgeous with their white facial trimmings.

The canopy walkway was somewhat of a let-down because as we walked the stiff hills we were often at canopy-level anyway but the giant tree ferns on the Ishigishigi Trail were stunning below. We hear the Red-chested owlet and the Barred long-tailed cuckoo call provocatively through the forest. Prote (like Protea without the ‘a’), our guide, was a fledgling botanist and I happily soaked up every bit of knowledge, enjoying the local medicinal uses and beliefs, later matched to the thick field guide on the forest which Marcelo had purchased for me.

The Giant Lobelia (Lobelia gibberoa) named “flute” (intomvu) in the local language was exactly that: the straight, hollow flower stalk first prized by sunbirds, is dried and used as a traditional flute. It is also said that the honey tastes particularly delicious when the bees have feasted upon these giants.

 

Marcelo’s bird walk (desperately seeking those 25 rare endemics) was productively frustrating, as forest birding usually is! Nevertheless he managed to clock up several lifers and an impressively long list of sightings.

Danica and I were entertained by a threesome of Black-and-white casqued hornbills on our walk and Ruwnzori turacos flashed their colours too. Nicolai was proud to spot the first of many Great blue turacos and to share the video footage he took of the troop of colobus munching the rocks for mineral enrichment with a group of visiting primatologists from Arizona. Both the children had colds and sniffles aggravated further by the highly variable weather conditions, frequently drizzly and cold.

 

The mornings were especially fresh and as the sunlight filtered through the mist and leaf layers, the early birds were in attendance with the fairies and butterflies. What a contrast to the USAID refugee camp’s white tents mushrooming on a hill – a sobering prelude to the Genocide Memorial in the capital city, Kibali. The large, modern building has been well set out amongst gardens and fountains and is well-run with audio accompaniments. Powerful – we came away different somehow than when we had entered, with Danica being particularly solemn. Tasteful and meaningful displays cannot hide the grisly truth of the 1994 genocide – such a contrast to South Africa’s joy in freedom of that same year. What is sad now is that the president has been implicated in arms dealing with Congo recently after apparently leading the country so well since that dark era. If only humans could use their intelligence and discernment better!

 

Methinks the olde poets touched on such ‘giving thanks for simply being alive’ themes in odes to joy and life. Carpe diem.