As
you will see, our experiences in this section are difficult to reconcile with
the image of genocide that happened only a few years after our visit. We traveled easily and felt completely safe,
with the only nuisance being the hordes of school children. Between our time in Burundi and Rwanda we
hitched with a number of foreigners working in different aspects of development
aid. Not a single one mentioned tensions
between Hutus and Tutsis. We did not
feel any of the tension and apparent underlying resentment that was so obvious
across Zaire (now Democratic Republic of Rwanda). The only experience we had with the military
was the soldier below who kept showing up to say we could not take whatever
path we were taking.
 | |
| Our route through Rwanda in yellow. |
Kigali—-Kibuye,
Rwanda, Friday, 20 May, 1983
(HELENA) Today DID NOT end up as planned, We figured we would spend at
least a day and perhaps the weekend here in Kigali, taking care of our visa
business, We did not have a beautiful view to eat breakfast by (we are getting
spoiled) but still we managed to be up and ready to sortie by 7:15. By some miracle we did not disarrange too many of
our things since we usually display the rather alarming Robison tendency of
spreading out as much as the room allows, and we left the three-bed room in
fair order.
First stop was USAID to get directions to the US Embassy. We
had ulterior motives because we thought we would check out the grounds for a
possible campsite. The street along which we walked, Avenue Paul VI, was situated
on a hill in such a way that the various fancy houses were down the hill from
the street; one would reach these houses by going down sloping drives. As we
walked along and looked across the valley to the green hills opposite, I am
afraid we were not completely at peace with the world. A group of little school
children insisted on following us and pestering us. It has become our pet peeve. We finally lost them when we went down the
driveway into the steep USAID grounds.
The embassy experience which ensued will go down in our books as the
most pleasant and satisfying ever. We arrived at 7:50, ten minutes
before opening time, but just then a four-door silver Caprice Classic pulled in
and dropped off a tall, paunchy, graying man. Dan had seen his monster of a car
yesterday, and today we decided that, even though it stands out as big and
fancy, it would be much less expensive than the black Mercedes Benzes “everyone
else” drives.
We did not know for sure until later that this was the ambassador
himself, but it was immediately obvious that he was from the U. S. of A. After
all, who else would stride briskly up to the front door, coffee mug in hand,
muttering, “I’ll bet I Can’t remember the _______ combination for this lock,”
go around through the back way, and let us in before hours. This is the second
U. S. embassy in a row where there have not been any Marine guards. Very
relaxed[1].
He bade us sit down, and soon a young woman came in wondering who had let us
in and left the door open. “The ambassador,”
She turned out to be the consular official we wanted to talk to, and
instead of having to drag answers out of her the way we usually do, she immediately
asked us to register and said she would check the mail room for us in the
meantime. We had not even ASKED. She suggested we give Uganda a miss, although
she could not prohibit it. We decided to at least check at the Ugandan embassy,
so she gave us directions to it and the Tanzanian one. A pleasure to do business with her,
The Ugandan Embassy would have to send a TELEX all the way to Kampala to
get our applications approved. The
answer would require between 1 and 3 weeks, so we decided to heed Mother’s
warning and leave Uganda for our next trip. The British couple we met yesterday
said there were a lot of police checks but no real trouble in Uganda. The woman
at the U. S. embassy said sometimes you are lucky and other times you are not[2].
The Tanzanian embassy proved to be more pleasant and efficient than its
counterpart in Bujumbura. The secretary
heard our story, then took us to see a young woman who must be the consul. She
listened to our tale of woe in English, but did not think there was much of a
solution except to get a new visa. We
did not care for that idea (2 more pictures apiece, more money), so finally she
went to talk to the ambassador. They both talked to us and assured us that the
visa should be interpreted as lasting from 25 May until 5 weeks later, As Dan
said, “but will the border guard interpret it that way?” We shall soon see.
The two Tanzanian embassies we have visited have had impressive displays
of Tanzanian products, all the way from bottles, to plastic wares, to cloth and
a selection of coffees. However everyone
with whom we have talked about the country says that the shelves are bare in
the country itself.
We were through with all of our pressing business at an early hour, so
we decided to go home, pack up, and hitch hike to Kibuye on Lake Kivu for the
weekend. We left the Anglican mission by
10:00, but it took us a long time to get out of town and on the road, For one
thing, it was a long way, but we also needed to change some of our precious
cash dollars. Dan had to look a while
before he found anyone who would deal with him. He finally gave up and was
buying a bottle for our CAMPING GAZ when he asked the Indian proprietor if he
could buy dollars. He said “No,” but
when the African customers moved away, he told Dan in an undertone, “You should
not talk about that in front of the Africans; it is illegal. In the future you
must come in and ask to see our Formica.” Sure enough, they went back into the Formica
room and did the formalities,
After buying bread, bananas, and an avocado we set off in earnest. Just
as we reached the highway, we saw another backpacker stride by surrounded by a
retinue of 20 school children. “Groan! Is that what we look like?” We settled
down to wait outside of town, but there were still plenty of passers-by to
stare at us and say we would not get a ride there, We finally stopped a small Renault
that strained up the hills and got us to Gitarama. We were picked up by two young
Rwandaise men, maybe university students. We did not converse much, but we got
to listen to our first Reggae music in ages. We could not understand the news
in Kiyarwanda, but we caught that the Rwandan president had just made a visit
to Kinshasa,
As far as Gitarama we were retracing part of yesterday’s steps over a
nicely paved road, From there we walked several kms to a place we thought would
be all right to wait for our next ride, Ha! We were soon surrounded by a crowd
of people, We tried moving on, but they seemed to derive much pleasure from the
Robison Circus and stuck with us, Chief among our “friends” was a young man who
was in quite drunk. Several trucks went by, and once they had stopped, he would
insist on talking for us. Finally we flagged a van that agreed to take us for a
fair price.
 |
| A view hitching in Rwanda |
As we got in, I could smell beer on the driver’s breath (Ed: her
mother’s daughter) and after an hour or so the driver and his friend stopped to
have another bit of refreshment. This
road was dirt and had some rough spots, but all along the way we could see men
working on it. The driver obviously did not own the van because he bounced
merrily along, oblivious to the bumps. Fortunately, he took the worst curves a
little more slowly, so we stuck with him till we saw the sign for “Home St. Jean”.
I had understood that it was some sort of hotel (from our British
friends’ recommendation) but it looked like a church. Dan went to inquire
first because if it was a mission, we did not want to appear too suddenly
complete with packs. Clear beyond the church on a promontory overlooking an arm
of Lake Kivu, Dan did in fact find a place
that would accommodate us. We decided to pitch our tent at $1 a night rather
than sleep in a common room for the same price, or in more expensive double or single rooms.
 | |
| Home St. Jean, Lake Kivu, Rwanda |
We decided to use their dining facilities and had a good, big meal. We
shared two plates, one (at $2) with meat, potatoes, and eggplant, and the other
(at $ .80) with an egg instead of the meat. It is what we call a “oncer”. We
are about 5000 feet in altitude here, the night was chilly, and we had a nice,
cozy night in the tent.
Kibuye, Lake Kivu,
Rwanda, 21 May, 1983
(DAN) Around here they pronounce their “K” in a strange way. It comes
out halfway between a “K” and a “Ch”, so it is Kchibuye and Kchigali.
Today was a beautiful awakening. We had a good night’s sleep, started
with a cold shower and hot café con leche
then --ah, the view! We are about 1000 feet above the lake on a hill that juts
out into the water. One description would be that we are on a semitropical
fjord. The body of water is long, deep and surrounded by high steep mountains.
Where we have our tent pitched, there are benches, eucalyptus trees for shade,
and a 270 degree view. There is quite a vociferous bird life here. Sound
carries well over the water, so one bird will call on this side, and another
will answer across the way. Very prominent are the huge black and white crows
we have named “psuedo-ducks,” and they have been serenading us since Yaoundé, Cameroon.
As we were sitting here waiting, two large hawks appeared and made two nearby
trees home base. Every now and then they will peel off and glide around the valley
or just sit and watch us.
 |
| One of our more agreeable journal writing spots across Africa. Lake Kivu, Rwanda |
About 1100 we locked things up and went to see the town. We are actually
on the backside of a long strip of land with our backs to the main part of the
lake. You have to walk maybe 3 kms by road to go around and down to the port.
There is a fancy “Guest House” there with boating facilities, but we prefer our
view.
We were hoping to pick up some things for lunch, but we actually had
trouble scaring up some bananas and peanuts. It turns out that the main part of
town is around on another side of the mountain; that is surely where the
market is.
About 1630 we struck out in our boots to climb the mountain and watch
the sunset over Lake Kivu at our backs. We had
gotten about 40 feet straight up the side of the hill when a soldier appeared
below and started yelling. He insisted that it was forbidden to climb the
mountain there. I asked if there were a
government installation up there, and he said “yes”. We really did not believe him but had no
choice, so we climbed back down and circled the mountain a bit and then
followed straight up to the top of the hill. There was, of course, nothing but
a water tower part way up. Some soldiers look for ANY excuse to exercise their
“authority”. Helena says that after all it is is their duty as “La
Institución Tutelar” (the tutorial institution, a term used frequently by
the military in Bolivia).
We never did achieve an unimpeded view up there, but we got to a ridge
with the port and many islands stretching out on one side, and a bird’s-eye
view of the greater Kibuye on our left. We were nearly 700 feet or so straight
up from the town, but sounds carried so well that one could hear the
discussions on the soccer field and the misfiring of a VW, even though people
were too small to distinguish.
We started back down well before dark to avoid any problems. There was
no path down, so we kind of lowered ourselves bit by bit holding onto grass and
pine saplings. We got back to the “Home” just at dark.
Ah yes, as we were walking out in the afternoon, we ran into Martin, the
young Britisher whom we met several times in Bujumbura. It had taken him two days to hitch
here straight from Bujumbura, whereas we hitched
to Kigali and from Kigali to here in two days. It all depends on
your luck. We had supper again in the dining facilities.
Sleep was a little difficult. Somebody chose the moment we went to bed
to start chopping wood about 20 feet away. Then later two large dogs took to
eating, drinking, bone-crunching, and fighting not far beyond our nylon walls.
Kibuye,
Rwanda, Sunday, 22 May, 1983
(HELENA)
Dan talked to the Belgian woman manager (owner?) to find out what kind of
transport there is out of Kibuye. She said there are buses every day to Gisenye
and that there should be a boat leaving Monday at 13:00. Before setting off to
inquire about these possibilities, Dan had a most enjoyable chat with one of
the two young female European travelers that we have been seeing since we got
here to Kibuye. She and her friend had just come from where we are wanting to
go, north to Ruhengeri.
We put a bit of food in our trusty green food bag, added towels and
swimsuits and set off for the main side of town. We bought a coke to be able to
ask our questions, but the man at the store was not able to tell us more than
we already knew. All we could discover was that nothing is sure and we shall
just have to see what is what tomorrow.
The beach we had heard about from the young European woman was clear on
the other side of the hill, so we naturally set about going there the shortest
possible way --on a footpath that cut over the mountain. Would you believe
it!! we met up with yesterday’s soldier. Once
again he told us it was interdit to use that path because it "goes to
some military installation". “But we have just seen someone go that way”. In the
end Dan got him to admit that it is only off limits for foreigners. Not much we
could do except to take the long way around the hill, past the Home Saint Jean,
through the port and on around several more curves. We walked a long way, but
we never found the beach we had heard about. We finally settled for a fairly
narrow rocky shelf that allowed us to sit comfortably and slide into the water
when we so desired. Most of the shore is wooded right to the water, so our
place was pretty nice.
We spent a couple of hours there getting burned to a crisp, having
lunch, enjoying our solitude (both of us are getting intolerant of the constant
stream of people staring at us and asking for things) and watching the wazungus
from “The Guest House” wind surf over the lake.
We got back to Home St.
Jean by about 14:00 and I did a bit of washing in time for the clothes to dry a
little before a good rainstorm blew in and decided to stay most of the night.
Since we could not sit out on our benches and watch the changing shadows on the
lake, Martin, our young redheaded British friend, asked if we would like to
play “Black Mariah”. We borrowed some cards from the still churlish hotel staff
and played till suppertime.
Dan finally got his chance to speak to the two young women because they
were sitting at a table not far away. After conversing rather awkwardly from
table to table, we invited Lisbet (Swiss) and Sonja (French) to join Martin and
us. We learned that they had started their travels in Lambarene, Gabon,
over two months ago. Sonja had worked at the Schweitzer hospital for two years
as a nurse, and Lisbet was there three months as a dental hygienist. Both were
volunteers with their flight, room and board provided. They went through Congo, but when they went through Zaire, they took the much longer (14 days) river
trip from Kinshasa to Kisangani. They speak to each other in German.
At first we were talking in French, and finally we switched to English. Martin
has been traveling in Anglophone countries, so he does not understand much
French. The two women seem to have a good attitude and are really enjoying
their travels. They will be going down to Bujumbura,
taking the boat to Kigoma, Tanzania, train to Dar es Salaam and somehow flying to Adis
Ababa. Martin does not comment, but Dan and I agree that it would get pretty
tough traveling alone for very long.
It was not raining when we got out to the tent at 21:00, but it started
soon after that and did not quit till early morning. We like to have most
everything packed up the night before we leave a place, but everything was a
shambles because of the rain.
Kibuye
- Ruhengeri, Rwanda, Monday, 23 May, 1983
(DAN) We had a feeling that today would be pretty hit and miss. Our goal
for the day was Gisenye (across the border from Goma on Lake
Kivu) and possibly Ruhengeri, 66 kms to the east. Most of the
weekenders who might have given us a lift had left the afternoon before, and nobody
wanted to commit themselves on public transport. Add to that that Martin,
Lisbet and Sonja also wanted to hitch out this morning; quite a bottle-neck.
Martin was going in our direction, but we agreed that three people trying to
hitch together was too much.
With all this in mind we rolled out early, got things to drying, had our
patented CCL (café con leche) and hit
the road before 0730. We stopped in town for a while to buy some food and ask
around. All we found were twenty people waiting for transport to Kigali and nothing in
sight. We continued down the road before settling down in the shifting shade of
a big eucalyptus tree. Rwanda
has certainly provided our most scenic hitching spots. From where we were
sitting, we could see the “fjord” with the Home St. Jean standing out with
layer after layer of field-covered mountains beyond. We could even watch the
progress of our fellow hitchers as they left the Home and started out more than
1/2 hour behind us; we gloated.
 | |
| Another hitching view in Rwanda, Lake Kivu. |
It did not really matter what time we each decamped, because at 1000 we
were all still waiting. About that time a big bus and a medium bus, both empty,
bounced by going in the direction that everybody wanted to go. We got the
smaller bus to stop and found that they were both going to rescue a third bus
that had broken down on the road to Gisenyi. Eventually one of them would
continue on to Gisenyi, and we were welcome to go along if we could stand the
mess. The mess turned out to be a great melange
of oily used parts, leaking diesel jerry cans, and mounds of torn upholstery
and broken down seats. One stack of boards and axles was less greasy, so we
stacked our packs there. Helena
joined another woman on a semi-intact seat while Martin, who had meantime
joined us, and I tried to settle down on another. Our seat promptly buckled, so
the next half hour was spent trying to “prize” another intact seat from the
bouncing piles of rubble. When that was accomplished, we found that the fumes
from the various petroleum extracts on extensive display was overpowering. What
windows were entire were also jammed, so Martin spent the next stretch trying
to stay on our perch and hold the door across the aisle open with his foot.
We stopped at the crossroad for a half hour, and once we got going
again, things improved. When we sighted the broken-down bus, we were less than
30 kms on our way, and it was already 1130. Things began to look bleak when the
group of men began working on both of the big buses and soon retreated to
eating guavas and listening to the radio. Meantime a crowd of perhaps thirty
“locals” gathered to watch the travelers eat peanuts and drink water. With such
a low threshold for fascination, our next hours or days looked pretty
predictable.
I have neglected to mention that the road is pretty secondary. Where we
were stopped was perhaps 3000 feet higher than Lake Kivu with an incredible
view of the lake and surrounding mountains.
 | |
| Martin and another view of agridultural landscape in Rwanda |
At 1230 a Daihatsu mini-truck bounced into view, and for an unreasonable
fare agreed to take us to Gisenyi about “2 hours away”. The truck belonged to a
tea improvement project, and in fine “project-vehicle-driver-fashion” he drove
the curves and ruts like a maniac, and then took a prolonged shish kebab stop
in one town. It was truly dangerous because the bars on the truck bed were just
mouth high, and even though all our efforts were concentrated in bracing
ourselves, every time we would hit a bump, we would come close to knocking our
teeth out or getting hit in the back of the head. Finally we ended up kind of
hanging from the bars and trying to absorb some of the shocks with our feet. Helena tried to sit on the
packs which were in turn on top of four wooden doors which were the only load.
She could not get a good hold and spent some of the time rolling around on the
load. We had a rest while they changed a flat tire ( # 5 on our voyage).
The discomforts were in direct contrast to the scenery around us. For a
while we passed through the Fout Naturale du Rwanda. It is the only
“native vegetation” we have seen in Burundi-Rwanda. The vegetation is very
similar to what I recall as lower montaine in the Bolivian Andes. It makes one
wonder if the populated parts of Rwanda represent the future picture
of the Yungas after another two generations of population increase.
The cultivated area is not at all unpleasant, especially as we neared
Gisenyi, as the farmers have made a good effort at conservation. The most
beautiful sights were the imaginative and beautifully proportioned bright green
terraces and beds of tea.
The descent to Gisenyi had an unforgettable view with Lake
Kivu, the plain behind Goma, and the first in the chain of
volcanoes. We had the truck driver drop us at the paved road rather than go
into Gisenyi as it was 1600, and we had a good chance to go on to Ruhengeri.
We waited a half hour, and a blue VW bus picked us up. The driver was a
West German engineer who works for the German company that is supervising the
construction of the Ruhengeri-Kigali highway. He lives in Ruhengeri but had
gone shopping in Gisenyi and “was glad to pick us up”. What a contrast, a brand
new van, a paved highway, and a defensive driver.
This stretch, though only about 60 kms., was different and also
unforgettable. It runs parallel to the “chain” of volcanoes (I believe 7 in
all), climbs out of the Kivu valley over the continental divide into another
valley where you can see no less than 6 volcanoes. All the way the immediate
countryside had the tea terraces and multiple garden crops.
 | |
| Virunga volcanoes, near Ruhengeri, Rwanda |
We were dropped off across from the prefecture and by 1800 we were
settled in the Centre d’ Accueil. Our travel book mentions two places to stay
here, this one and “the Catholic Mission”. As this is run by a nun, we feel
they must be the same place. As at the Home St. Jean, our welcome was less than
friendly, but we were served a big meal of potatoes and beans for $ .55 which
made us feel better.
Our reason for coming to Ruhengeri was twofold. The Parque Nationale des
Volcans is 15 kms. Away. In this park it is possible to “see the gorillas” that
remain in Rwanda.
It is also possible to make a two-day hike on one of the volcanoes. As usual
the parks are not geared for travelers of our means. General information was
not available, so we headed over to the “real” hotel to see if they had
information. We were shown to the owner, a French woman who was both friendly
and knowledgeable. We have to hitch out to the base camp first. Then it costs
$10 apiece to enter the park for three days. If you want to “see the gorilla troops,”
you have to pay another $15 apiece each time you go out with a guide. If you
want to hike the volcanoes, you have to pay another guide fee as well.
It is not a sure thing that you will see the gorillas, so it can become
very expensive. If you do see the gorillas, you are supposed to buy the guide a
beer, etc. We have heard some horror stories about these ventures. Marietta
Pritchard (of Lubumbashi) went out with a group of middle-aged people, and they
walked from 0800 on Christmas Eve to 0200 on Christmas Day without seeing
anything. Two of the women had to be carried back, etc.
It took a while to digest this information. Helena and I went back to
our dormitory to think. We
counted our money again and counted off days left on our trip and realized we had to
change our plans. Not only is $50 a good chunk of our locally available reserves,
but it would also schedule us to run out of our cash in Tanzania. It is reputed
to be on of the countries with very difficult exchange situations. We have gotten this far with money that we
have been carrying since Spain.
One reason we are in trouble now is that both Nigeria and Zaire where we
could write personal checks, they had currency that is of no value out of the
country. Therefore we could not use much
more than our stay in those countries required. Tanzania, if anything, is in
worse shape. All, the border guards and + 2000 merchants are currently in
jail in an effort to crack down on the currency black market. As it was in
Zaire, it will be impossible to get hard currency there, Thirdly, our contact
there is second hand, and quite possibly morally against guaranteeing our
personal check for purchasing in the black market, Fourthly, Martin had
mentioned that a friend had had money transferred to the National Bank of
Rvanda, and it was given to him in honest to goodness U, S. dollars. Fifthly,
our visa in Rwanda runs out the 30th or one week from today.
While Martin was in the bathroom, Helena and I came to one of our
patented simultaneous unanimous conclusions: ~~ie vould not go look for
gorilla in the morning; we would go to Kigali and get the wheels turning for a
bank transaction. Martin was disappointed, but basically he was with us for our
“French” rather than as a formal agreement. It would have been easier to do
everything with three rather than one. We were DEEPLY disappointed at not
climbing the incredible volcanoes here, but we want to climb Mr. Kilimanjaro
even worse. So we shall concentrate on it.
Ruhengeri--Kigali,
Rwanda, Tuesday 24 May, 1983
(HELENA) It really does seem as though we are getting better at getting
up and off of a morning. In this case I suppose it helped that Dan did not
sleep well in the first place. Even though the 8 beds in the room were neatly
made up with matching flowered sheets and gray blankets, they had all been
slept in several times before we arrived. Dan and I wqnted to be able to
snuggle up against the cold air, so we put our sleeping bags on top of the beds
and at least slept in our own grime (actually they are pretty clean) but Martin
tossed and turned in the used sheets, We were serenaded all night by our dear
anopheles choir, and that really kept Dan and Martin awake. I just covered my
head with the sleeping bag and slept away. Then, too, Dan listened to Martin
have an hour—long coughing spell. To top it all off, all of us heard two men
talking loudly between 5:00 and 6:00, As I said before, we had no trouble
hitting the deck today.
We were sorry just to walk off and leave Martin by himself (it gives me
a strange feeling to know someone for several days and then walk off knowing we
shall never again have any contact) but we left anyway at 7:30. We walked
through Ruhengeri and finally sat down on a log in a shady spot after 40
minutes, Across the valley we could see the new road bed that the Chinese are
working on. Our situation was especially
nice because most of the pedestrians were walking on that road, making it
difficult for them to stare at us,
Contrary to what we had expected, there was very little traffic on our road,
most of it public pickups and vans and gasoline trucks and small trucks driven
by the Chinese road crew. Finally, at about 10:00 a young French man in a small
green Renault offered us a lift for a couple of kilometers, We had to do some
major arranging to get us and our baggage in, but we made it with my pack in
the very back, Dan and his pack in the back seat, and I in the front seat, We
had no time to talk before he dropped us off at a very confusing crossroads,
confusing because both roads lead to Kigali, but one was a detour and the other
was part of the new road.
There was NO shade in sight, so we simply sat down in the blazing sun,
It looked pretty hopeless for a good while (several cars passed us without a
sign of pity or recognition) but finally a nice new Toyota Land Cruiser, long
wheel base, with U. S. luxury appointments stopped and agreed to take us. Because of the road construction and the
resulting schedule for opening and closing different sections of it, the driver
said he could probably take us for only 30 kms, We said “fine” and got in. Almost
right away the two wazungus asked where we were from. They laughed when
we said “Bolivia.” It turned out that our driver (Jose, 35-ish, bearded) was
Spanish, so we talked much more easily. We never understood exactly what he is,
but he apparently is the project manager for a German firm that is installing
electric lines here in Rwanda, He has been here for eleven years, but I do not
know if he has always been with the same firm or not. José is from Asturias and
returns to Spain every year for a month or two. His companion whose name we never learned has
just begun working for the same company.
He has only been here for 9 weeks as he oversees the work in several
Francophone counties. He understood most of the Spanish conversation, but spoke
in French, He had beautiful, blazing blue eyes and was very friendly. We found
that he is Romanian.
Well, we drove our 30 kms. over a rough road that wound through more
beautiful green Rwandan hills, and finally we stopped at a hospital run by
nuns. We had apparently reached there in time for the open road, so Jose said
we would go on to Kigali after a 10 minute delay. From there we drove up a
local road to where three Spanish priests hold forth. Only one was there, but
he invited the four of us in for lunch. “It’s not much, but…” Ha! We started
with a plate of beans, then meat and French fries, corn on the cob, bread, and
finally a choice of bananas, chirimoyas, papayas, or pineapple.
We rolled out of there and drove on to Kigali over a rough, dusty,
winding road. Actually, the DUSTY part was only a short stretch where we drove
over the new road bed0 The stuff positively billowed up behind us
(or in front of us when we were unfortunate enough to get behind another
vehicle). Our main topic of conversation was the new road, or actually the
builders. José said there are some 400
Chinese here working on it, constituting 90% of the technical labor (I. e.
driving trucks, tractors, jack hammers, etc.) They are forbidden to learn the
language and always deal with outsiders through interpreters. Apparently their
use of Chinese labor has caused a lot of problems because a lot of people think
they ought to use Rwandan labor. They have been working on the road for a year
now (even though West Germany gave the funds 5 years ago) and it is scheduled
to be finished in 1986,
We arrived in Kigali, finally, at 1530 and they dropped us at the U. S.
embassy. The woman who had been so friendly to us before was not in, but
a Rwandan man was very helpful. He called up the National Bank and got the
following information for us. We can have the money sent to us by TELEX in
dollars cash for the price of what it costs Citibank of New York to send the
TELEX plus 150 Rwandan francs ($1.50) Sounds good, We shall see…
Dan proceeded to the post office and found that the cheapest way to get
through to the U.S.A. was by phone. It was almost closing time, but the people
did try putting a call through to Mother and Daddy. No answer, so Dan decided
to call early tomorrow morning,
We were WORN OUT, so we decided to sleep at the Anglican Mission in
spite of the expense ($4 apiece). We both drooped around until an early bedtime,
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