Today I began my first independent travel in my time here. I began with a grand plan of traveling from one town to the next over four days, passing through Gitarama (Muhanga) and Ruhango before ending up in Butare (Huye), and taking a day-trip to Kibeho. I would spend about one day in each, splitting my time between researching and touring.
You know what they say about the best-laid plans.
My hosts recommended that I take a bus directly to Butare, so I did that. I realized soon after getting there that there was more tourism there alone than could be done in a day, so I altered my plans: just stay there until I feel like I’m done.
One of my great fallacies in planning my trip to Rwanda as a whole was that “this country is only the size of Maryland, it can’t possibly take too long to get anywhere!” As the crow flies, I think Kigali and Butare are about as far apart as Boston and Providence, but the bus ride between them takes close to three hours. And this is even on good, paved roads. (Other main highways are not paved, so getting to Gisenyi or Cyangugu can be a seven-hour ordeal.)
The reason for the length of time is that it is simply impossible to build really straight roads in most parts of this country. Rwanda is called the Land of a Thousand Hills, and for all the ways those hills make the country extraordinary, they are not so kind to its transportation infrastructure. The road-builders could try to build straight roads, but this would mean so much change in elevation that driving would be really unpleasant, and unkind to engines in this country where automatic transmission is unheard-of. The alternative they seem to choose is skirting the edges of the hills, which avoids the changes in elevation but does mean that the steering wheel is almost never in its default position.
The other consequence is that, at almost every moment, one can look out the window of the bus and see really dramatic views of rolling hills, valleys and farmland. The terracing of the hillside cultivation, mixed with forests and interspersed with houses, is kind of stunning.
My bus, which left Kigali at 10:30 a.m., got to Butare some time after 1:00 p.m. Transportation from Kigali, despite the very loud and entropic feel of the Nyabugogo bus terminal, is very well organized, and buses can be found connecting the capital with all major Rwandan towns as well as Kampala, Bujumbura, Goma and more. I did not even have to ask anyone: I just paused looking vaguely confused for a few seconds, and a man approached me to ask where I was going. He led me first to the ticket-vendor and then to the bus. Granted, he was an employee of a private bus company, but that’s great customer-service. The ticket, with Sotra Tours, cost 2,500 francs (about $4) one-way, which strikes me as very reasonable given the length.
So the ride proceeded without a hitch. The bus made stops in major towns along the way, and at each one vendors ran up to the windows, eager to sell us food. In a confusing exchange, I told a vendor that I didn’t have a 100-franc coin for a donut-thing (íríindazi), so he took 500 and plopped a whole bag in my lap. I mean, they were good, but I couldn’t eat most of them!
Upon arriving in Butare, I took advice from a friend of a friend and got a room at the guesthouse of the Anglican church there, just down the road from the town center. A single room was 5,000 francs per night, which was far less than I was anticipating paying! (I could have gotten away with 4,000, but I coughed up extra for the not-shared bathroom.) Granted, this was not a hotel: minus the bathroom, it was probably about 60 square feet, there was no hot water and the floor was warped in such a way that lots of things could come in under the door if they so chose. Still, the room was clean, it had a mosquito-net and there was consistent running water (an amenity I have not experienced in quite awhile). All in all, I’d say $7.50 a night was a bit of a steal.
By the time I had settled in, it was late afternoon. I had not had lunch, aside from my two ámáandazi, so I randomly chose a place in town and got some brochettes. In the spirit of conquering my shyness, I sat down with two random Rwandan guys, started talking and asked them to participate in my research, which I explained in detail. “Sure,” they said, “when we have time.” They gave me their phone numbers and said to call at 5:00 p.m. the next day. Then they had to go. I felt satisfied. I ate my brochettes and then I headed out too.
The second problem with my grand plan of going from one town to the next (the first being the abundance of tourist activities) was that, as I realized, good tourist places are not always good research places. Butare is, by Rwandan standards, a big commercial town, but as in Kigali no one actually lives in the city center. Everyone who goes there is doing some kind of business: buying, selling, eating, whatever. The result is that they all at least look busy, and they don’t seem like they would be willing to spare a few minutes to read a list of words for a foreign researcher.
So, in my half-hearted search for research subjects that essentially turned into a self-guided tour of the town, I did get a decent feel for the place. I think I will save the detailed description for tomorrow’s post, but my basic impression was that it was a nice, laid-back town, surprisingly relaxed for a place where there was clearly a lot of commercial activity going on.
My dinner was at the Hotel Ibis, which I am told is a stalwart institution here. There are not a whole lot of formal restaurants, and most covered in the guidebook are affiliated with hotels. My meal was quite reasonably priced, I thought, given that I ate two very nice and filling courses, though it is funny to think that it cost as much as my accommodation for the night!
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