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- Becca, signing off from Jambiani, on the southeast coast of Zanzibar
Sunday, May 30, 2010
More Tanzania Photos
More Tanzania photos for the truly hardcore followers! (thanks to Nat and Lori for your comments!) Also, we didn't get a good picture, but Mount Meru says hello to Corie Calfee, still there ready for the climbing!
Check it out here:
- Becca, signing off from Jambiani, on the southeast coast of Zanzibar
Check it out here:
- Becca, signing off from Jambiani, on the southeast coast of Zanzibar
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Zanzibar primer
Zanzibar still has the power to conjure up visions of the exotic. Like other fabled destinations (like Timbuktu or Kathmandu), the word is indelibly associated with distant, other civilizations in the Western consciousness. And with good reason.
The history of Zanzibar goes back a couple of thousand years. It was known as a distant trading post to the ancient Greeks, was conquered by waves of black Africans and Arabs, and became the capital of the Omani Arabs. Islam came to the island in the 12th or 13th century and remains the dominant religion to the present day. By 1498, when Vasco da Gama became the first European recorded to visit (on his long way round Africa to India), it was the seat of a trading empire that reached India and Ceylon and was, perhaps, visited by the Chinese.
More recently, the island became a British protectorate in 1890, gained some independence in the early 1960s, and joined independent Tanganyika to become Tanzania in 1964. The entire period of unification has been marked by political unrest, with the five-yearly elections marking periods of particular trouble. The next elections are scheduled for later this year, when we will be well gone from the place. And throughout, the island has mainained a high level of autonomy, flying their own flag, with pictures of the Zanzibari president smiling down on shopkeepers, and with passport control at the port of entry.
Zanzibar island is just a quick ninety-minute ferry ride from Dar Es Salaam, and we arrived in the early afternoon on Friday. Stone Town is the old section, with numerous buildings dating from the early 19th century, a labyrinthine street layout somewhat like a an Arab medina, and notable for the magnificent mohagany doors on most of the buildings. It is unlike any other city we have seen in sub-Saharan Africa.
For tourists, there is lots of history, tours of spice plantations, and some magnificent Indian Ocean beaches.
The history of Zanzibar goes back a couple of thousand years. It was known as a distant trading post to the ancient Greeks, was conquered by waves of black Africans and Arabs, and became the capital of the Omani Arabs. Islam came to the island in the 12th or 13th century and remains the dominant religion to the present day. By 1498, when Vasco da Gama became the first European recorded to visit (on his long way round Africa to India), it was the seat of a trading empire that reached India and Ceylon and was, perhaps, visited by the Chinese.
More recently, the island became a British protectorate in 1890, gained some independence in the early 1960s, and joined independent Tanganyika to become Tanzania in 1964. The entire period of unification has been marked by political unrest, with the five-yearly elections marking periods of particular trouble. The next elections are scheduled for later this year, when we will be well gone from the place. And throughout, the island has mainained a high level of autonomy, flying their own flag, with pictures of the Zanzibari president smiling down on shopkeepers, and with passport control at the port of entry.
Zanzibar island is just a quick ninety-minute ferry ride from Dar Es Salaam, and we arrived in the early afternoon on Friday. Stone Town is the old section, with numerous buildings dating from the early 19th century, a labyrinthine street layout somewhat like a an Arab medina, and notable for the magnificent mohagany doors on most of the buildings. It is unlike any other city we have seen in sub-Saharan Africa.
For tourists, there is lots of history, tours of spice plantations, and some magnificent Indian Ocean beaches.
Friday, May 28, 2010
East Africa Map
Showing the places we have slept thus far in Uganda, Rwanda, Tanzania (you may need to recenter or zoom out to see all the markers).
View East Africa 2010 in a larger map
View East Africa 2010 in a larger map
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Wildlife viewing
Mwanza
The Serengeti is one of the most famous natural tourist sites in the world. It was a target on our list for this trip from the beginning, and we were not disappointed. But before we saw the animals we needed to arrange the trip.
We arrived in Mwanza on Thursday, after a fairly grueling bus ride from Kigali. Mwanza itself is a rather nice town with a compact downtown (complete with banks and eight-story office towers). We had great weather and checked into an upscale hotel on the shore of Lake Victoria. Our only purpose, however, was to arrange a tour of the national parks with a goal to be dropped in Arusha (which is in north-central Tanzania and is the normal jumping-off point for safaris, most of which travel in the opposite direction we were taking). There are only a handful of tour operators in Mwanza, and all seem to be run by Indians (Tanzanian by nationality, they uniformly referred to Tanzanians as "they"--"They" don't have a cricket team anymore, etc). We got quotes from a few, all seemed to be roughly the same, and we ended up choosing one rather arbitrarily.
The cost is not arbitrary. The basic costs work out to $50 per person per day in the parks, $200 per vehicle in the Ngorogoro Crater, something like $80 per person per night to stay in the cheapest lodges, and approximately $200 per day for a vehicle and driver. Because we were alone, and travelling the odd Mwanza-Arusha route, we ended up eating the full cost of the vehicle.
How to pay? "Cash dollars, cash pounds, cash euros, or cash shillings," our operator explained. I must have looked puzzled, "Do you have another currency?" Circling back to my earlier posting on cash, none of the operators accept credit cards. Which is bullshit, because the fancy $100 hotel accepted credit cards; why can't a $2,000-per-trip tour operator accept them? The answer was soon clear. "I'll accept shillings at 1480 per dollar." The ATM was giving them to us at 1405 per dollar, so the guy stood to make over $100 on the exchange rate. Still we had no choice. Nine visits to four ATMs later we had three hundred (THREE HUNDRED) 10,000-shilling notes stuffed into every pocket and zippable item we have with us, walked over to the tour operators and plunked them on his table. "The driver will pick you up 9 AM tomorrow."
Day 1 - Mbalageti River Lodge
We had won one point in the bargaining, a night at the very fancy Mbalageti River Lodge in the Western region of the park. The place seems to be frequented by up-market tours arranged from abroad, and of the roughly 100 guests pretty much all seemed to be American. And most were senior citizens (or college kids, visiting with their grandparents). The Western section is not heavily populated with animals this time of year and contains a lot of woodland; the highlight of Day 1 was probably viewing a lone female lion resting under a tree. And the fact that we survived the biting flies. Horrible buggers, they bite through shirts and, unlike a mosquito bite that you typically don't feel, this pair of tiny teeth jamming into your arm and looking down and seeing a black fly on your shirt having his lunch. Not good.
The Serengeti is one of the most famous natural tourist sites in the world. It was a target on our list for this trip from the beginning, and we were not disappointed. But before we saw the animals we needed to arrange the trip.
We arrived in Mwanza on Thursday, after a fairly grueling bus ride from Kigali. Mwanza itself is a rather nice town with a compact downtown (complete with banks and eight-story office towers). We had great weather and checked into an upscale hotel on the shore of Lake Victoria. Our only purpose, however, was to arrange a tour of the national parks with a goal to be dropped in Arusha (which is in north-central Tanzania and is the normal jumping-off point for safaris, most of which travel in the opposite direction we were taking). There are only a handful of tour operators in Mwanza, and all seem to be run by Indians (Tanzanian by nationality, they uniformly referred to Tanzanians as "they"--"They" don't have a cricket team anymore, etc). We got quotes from a few, all seemed to be roughly the same, and we ended up choosing one rather arbitrarily.
The cost is not arbitrary. The basic costs work out to $50 per person per day in the parks, $200 per vehicle in the Ngorogoro Crater, something like $80 per person per night to stay in the cheapest lodges, and approximately $200 per day for a vehicle and driver. Because we were alone, and travelling the odd Mwanza-Arusha route, we ended up eating the full cost of the vehicle.
How to pay? "Cash dollars, cash pounds, cash euros, or cash shillings," our operator explained. I must have looked puzzled, "Do you have another currency?" Circling back to my earlier posting on cash, none of the operators accept credit cards. Which is bullshit, because the fancy $100 hotel accepted credit cards; why can't a $2,000-per-trip tour operator accept them? The answer was soon clear. "I'll accept shillings at 1480 per dollar." The ATM was giving them to us at 1405 per dollar, so the guy stood to make over $100 on the exchange rate. Still we had no choice. Nine visits to four ATMs later we had three hundred (THREE HUNDRED) 10,000-shilling notes stuffed into every pocket and zippable item we have with us, walked over to the tour operators and plunked them on his table. "The driver will pick you up 9 AM tomorrow."
Day 1 - Mbalageti River Lodge
We had won one point in the bargaining, a night at the very fancy Mbalageti River Lodge in the Western region of the park. The place seems to be frequented by up-market tours arranged from abroad, and of the roughly 100 guests pretty much all seemed to be American. And most were senior citizens (or college kids, visiting with their grandparents). The Western section is not heavily populated with animals this time of year and contains a lot of woodland; the highlight of Day 1 was probably viewing a lone female lion resting under a tree. And the fact that we survived the biting flies. Horrible buggers, they bite through shirts and, unlike a mosquito bite that you typically don't feel, this pair of tiny teeth jamming into your arm and looking down and seeing a black fly on your shirt having his lunch. Not good.
Day 2 - Seronera
The second day was our full day in the Serengeti Park. We drove east, toward the center of the park and the main plain, and our luck improved as the day went on. Very early on we found some elephants just on the side of the road, and we spent a good thirty minutes watching them eat and drink and scratch themselves on trees. Shortly thereafter, Ken, our driver, spotted a leopard sitting in a tree not far from the road. One of the quirks of wildlife viewing is that a stopped vehicle draws a lot of attention, and we were soon joined by a half-dozen vehicles angling to see the rather-comatose leopard. Still it was exciting.
After a short lunch we were back on the road, and finally in the part of the park that is in everyone's imagination. Vast grasslands broken up only by the occasional tree, we finally found some wildebeest. This is the end of the rainy season, and the time in which the wildebeest begin the migration north. The group we found numbered a few thousand, probably, nothing like the million or so that will cross the Mara River in the far north in late June. Still, the site of all those animals was pretty impressive.
Late in the day we found another leopard, or perhaps the same one, walking in the grass. Becca caught a video of him climbing a tree at the end, which we will try to post.
Day 3 - Ngorogoro Crater
After a night in Seronera, in the central Serengeti (during which we were awoken by a hippo eating grass about ten feet from our open window), we headed south to the Ngorogoro Crater, passing the Oldupai Gorge on the way.
If you've never been to East Africa you may not have heard of the Crater, if you have been it may be your favorite memory. An actual volcanic crater, it is filled with wildlife. Within a few minutes of entering we saw the usual zebras and wildebeest and springbok, but also hyenas and some sleeping lions. After an hour of driving, we spied two cheetahs in the distance. I have never seen cheetahs before, but they are pretty impressive critters, longer and thinner than leopards but still powerful. Six vehicles jockeyed for position to watch them loping along, and it soon became clear they were hunting. Thirty minutes later, they were crouched in the grass watching some springbok when one sprung--three seconds later it was over in failure.
Before reaching the Crater we stopped at the Oldupai Gorge Museum, which details the discover of two hominids in the Gorge as well as the 3.6 million-year-old hominid footprints (at Laetuli, 25 km to the south of the museum).
We spent the night at the spectacular Ngorogoro Crater Wildlife Lodge, perched on the rim. Unfortunately it was foggy the next morning, so our awed viewing was limited to the evening.
Day 4 - Manyara
After leaving the Crater, we made our way to Lake Manyara, which sits in the Rift Valley. After the other two parks the lake was a bit underwhelming, but we did see a number of giraffes and buffalo, and the place is dotted with baobab trees (which probably deserve their own post, or at least a link to wikipedia).
During the trip I kept asking Becca what her favorite was. First it was elephants (elephants yes, hippos an emphatic NO), then it was tree-climbing leopards, then gazelle-chasing cheetahs. I suppose if we'd seen baboons fighting lions then baboons could have topped the chart. Still, those three seconds of the cheetah chase were as exhilarating as it gets and we all caught our breaths at the spectacle.
Day 5 - Arusha
We ended the trip in Arusha and checked into the Catholic guesthouse (save a few bucks, and it's very clean and quiet). The plan is to head next to Zanzibar, but there are a couple of long travel days ahead before we can get there.
Friday, May 21, 2010
The Longest Day (replacing the previous "Longest")
Kigali, Rwanda, to Benako, Tanzania
Our plan was to travel from Rwanda as near as we could get to Mwanza, on the southern shores of Lake Victoria, then to make it all the way there the next day.
Our plan was to travel from Rwanda as near as we could get to Mwanza, on the southern shores of Lake Victoria, then to make it all the way there the next day.
We were off to a good start in traveling out of Kigali. We left the house on time (didn't get to say bye to Serena though, she was showering though we patted her puppy and kitty goodbye). My moto driver spoke English and chatted with me the whole time, he was from the Congo and was making his way in Kigali (immigrants are more and more amazing to me the more I see how hard it is to acclimate to another country). Bus from Kigali to the Tanzanian border left right on time. Big comfy bus for the 5 hour journey.
50 Cent. We settled on a shop with some plastic chairs and tables outside to watch the people promonading along the Benako main drag. A young man brought us Pepsi's and sat down with us. He had on a tee shirt and jeans and a sparkly necklace which said "50 Cent". We teased him and nicknamed him 50 Cent. Here I will mention an interesting thing about East Africa (maybe other parts of Africa?) which is the long handshake. It is very typical to shake hands with any stranger you speak to, the taxi driver, the guy on the street trying to sell you newspapers, the kid who brings you the Pepsi, and the handshake lasts throughout the greeting, like, (start shaking) Hello, how are you? I am well, how are you? I am fine, what is your name? (keep shaking, etc).
We asked which 50 Cent song was his favorite. He looked confused. Candy Shop? In Da Club? You know, which song? He continued to look confused and we realized that he did not know 50 Cent. It was a nice necklace though. We then tried football as a topic but he did not like football. We then sat quietly together sipping our Pepsi.
The Bus Ride
This minibus has 17 seats with people smushed together and some space which near the seats for cargo. At one point we had 25 people on the bus. When we hit police check points (in almost every town, I was starting to not like traveling in Tanzania) the police would have 8 people get off and have the driver pay some sort of "fine" for having the extra people on board. We would go through the checkpoint and pick up those 8 people (who by the time we got through had jogged ahead along the road and congregated just out of sight to wait for the minibus), they would pile back on and we would continue on our way.
This lasted a couple of hours. They we arrived at a big town, 4 hours from Mwanza. Everyone got off the minibus except me, Scott, and another white dude. It is never good to be with only whites on the bus. People are yelling Mwanza Mwanza Mwanza and telling us to get off. Scott watched the driver give someone cash and point to us and we discerned that this guy was going to buy us onward tickets on another bus. We follow him through the streets with a throng of 10 guys trying to get us to buy their bus company's tickets to Mwanza. In Tanzania, they call ladies sister - "Sister, my bus is very good. It is very nice. You will buy." I say that we have already paid for tickets and they say "No..." The throng thickens as we get to the bus park where there are 10 big buses parked. Big buses! And many vendors. We follow the dude with the money until he takes us to the bus and we push through to get on. Damn it! Our seats D4 and D5 are taken. We sign and find others.
We arrived at the border and stamped out in Rwanda - Above us, the applicable Rwanda Vision 2020 principles were listed at the border agents window (Vision 2020 is the government's plan to advancing the nation, to move the nation from a $290 per capita gdp in 2o00 to $900 by 2020) which included being a nation in a hurry (be on time!) and customer service.
We crossed a bridge in no-man's land (neither legally in Tanzania nor in Rwanda) to the Tanzania border. The only thing there was a line of trucks bringing stuff into Rwanda (the main port is in Dar we hear, so all the imports come through Tanzania). We got right up to the window and had a friendly discussion with the agent about whether the Visa fee is $50 or $100 for Americans. He was sure it was $100, raised in 2005. We disagreed but could do little about this and dug through our dwindling wallets for $100 US bills (they only take US and cash at borders) and learned that only $100 bills issued since 2000. A bit disgruntled, we exited with stamps, short $200 and realizing that some of our $100s are essentially worthless because they were issued in 1996 (no one in East Africa will take them, apparently, there was a lot of counterfeiting of dollars prior to 2000, so banks are suspicious).
We got to the Tanzania side and found a a row of about 20 shacks on either side of the street selling junk and no other travelers, just the shopkeepers and some kids who set upon us to ask what we wanted. A taxi was relatively expensive, so we eventually hopped on motorcycles. No more Rwanda, my driver did not wear a helmet nor did he offer me one and he only spoke Swahili and was missing a few front teeth, so I was a bit apprehensive on the bike ride. It was 20 kilometers through a lovely rural countryside which I could not enjoy too much because I lost sight of Scott pretty quickly, we were going faster than his bike. We both arrived safe a sound through, in Benko.
How to describe Benako? It was a former refugee camp for Rwandans fleeing the genocide in 1994, we say some old UN tarps on some of the businesses. It became a village and served the trucking community along with some agriculture. Benako has a main dirt trip, lined with shack-shops and very few customers. I immediately wanted to leave, I felt extremely out of place, more out of place than during other parts of the trip and I also felt kind of dirty from travel so far and was pretty sure there would be no running water or indoor plumbing in our Benako-future.
On disembarking from the motos, we were approached by a friendly man who spoke english - the man who sells bus tickets. He had a ticket to Mwanza for the next day, 6am. We considered this idea. We viewed a guesthouse he recommended next door for 6000 tanzanian shillings, about $4. It was a $4 room.
Our fate in staying in Benako was sealed when we saw the mini-bus that might have taken us to the next bigger town (about 4 hours away) driving around the streets listlessly, looking for passengers. It would not leave until it was full and that would doubtlessly get us to the next town after dark, with no map and no way to know where to go to find a room.
It was official, we were going to stay in Benako We took the $4 room. We decided to use our 6 hours of daylight to look around the town. A look around the town garnered a lot of looks in our direction. This strolling-while-being-stared-at was made more bearable for me by imagining that we were two aliens who had been dropped off in the town and certainly wouldn't you stare if there were suddenly two aliens on your street?
We stopped in a place to have a coke - Our young server turned out to be a Rwandan who had been in Benako 3 months learning Swahili, this was handy because we could speak English and French with him. He said that Rwanda is part of the east africa economy and learning Swahili would be important to the country's future. Interesting.
We went back to our room and I finally forced myself to use the latrine. "Not as bad as you thought, huh?" Scott asked. Hmm, I suppose squatting over a pit is not so bad.
The Three People in Benako Who Spoke English
Rwandan guy. Upon crossing the border from Rwanda to Tanzania to this tiny town, we meet.. a Rwandan. He speaks English and is in Benako learning Swahili because, as he said, Rwanda is part of East Africa and Rwandans must be able to communicate with their neighbors. Awesome.
The Three People in Benako Who Spoke English
Rwandan guy. Upon crossing the border from Rwanda to Tanzania to this tiny town, we meet.. a Rwandan. He speaks English and is in Benako learning Swahili because, as he said, Rwanda is part of East Africa and Rwandans must be able to communicate with their neighbors. Awesome.
50 Cent. We settled on a shop with some plastic chairs and tables outside to watch the people promonading along the Benako main drag. A young man brought us Pepsi's and sat down with us. He had on a tee shirt and jeans and a sparkly necklace which said "50 Cent". We teased him and nicknamed him 50 Cent. Here I will mention an interesting thing about East Africa (maybe other parts of Africa?) which is the long handshake. It is very typical to shake hands with any stranger you speak to, the taxi driver, the guy on the street trying to sell you newspapers, the kid who brings you the Pepsi, and the handshake lasts throughout the greeting, like, (start shaking) Hello, how are you? I am well, how are you? I am fine, what is your name? (keep shaking, etc).
We asked which 50 Cent song was his favorite. He looked confused. Candy Shop? In Da Club? You know, which song? He continued to look confused and we realized that he did not know 50 Cent. It was a nice necklace though. We then tried football as a topic but he did not like football. We then sat quietly together sipping our Pepsi.
Bus ticket dude. Bus ticket dude spoke excellent English. We conveyed our desire to go to Mwanza, he wrote out tickets, he explained it is a long trip, that we would have a big bus, with assigned seats (D4 and D5), he wrote these on the ticket, he told us to be out on the street at 6:00am, we looed dubious, thinking that we would be the only ones on the street at that time and the bus would sit for an hour waiting for people. We were wrong. We lay in bed considering getting up at 5:55 when bus ticket guy burst into our guesthouse yelling "Mwanza, Mwansa, Mwanza, Mwanza.." We stuck our heads out and whispered we are coming! Then packed up like crazy and came out of the room into the 6am darkness. There was bus ticket guy, hold and lantern and beckoning us, very, very drunk. We came outside to a minibus; definitely not a "big bus".
The Bus Ride
This minibus has 17 seats with people smushed together and some space which near the seats for cargo. At one point we had 25 people on the bus. When we hit police check points (in almost every town, I was starting to not like traveling in Tanzania) the police would have 8 people get off and have the driver pay some sort of "fine" for having the extra people on board. We would go through the checkpoint and pick up those 8 people (who by the time we got through had jogged ahead along the road and congregated just out of sight to wait for the minibus), they would pile back on and we would continue on our way.
This lasted a couple of hours. They we arrived at a big town, 4 hours from Mwanza. Everyone got off the minibus except me, Scott, and another white dude. It is never good to be with only whites on the bus. People are yelling Mwanza Mwanza Mwanza and telling us to get off. Scott watched the driver give someone cash and point to us and we discerned that this guy was going to buy us onward tickets on another bus. We follow him through the streets with a throng of 10 guys trying to get us to buy their bus company's tickets to Mwanza. In Tanzania, they call ladies sister - "Sister, my bus is very good. It is very nice. You will buy." I say that we have already paid for tickets and they say "No..." The throng thickens as we get to the bus park where there are 10 big buses parked. Big buses! And many vendors. We follow the dude with the money until he takes us to the bus and we push through to get on. Damn it! Our seats D4 and D5 are taken. We sign and find others.
We arrive in Mwanza around 4 pm, well before dark. After the time we have had, we take a taxi to one of the upscale places along Lake Victoria; it is soooo nice, brand new swimming pool, big bed, great bathroom, hot water shower.. Wonderful, we spend two nights there while arranging our Serengeti trip. Hmm, I have learned that long travel days can be gotten through with a little less angst than I had on this trip with the knowledge that we can always just dish out a $100 at the next opportunity for our Western luxury and rest up for the next big travel day!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Lake Kivu
(Pictures of Lake Kivu - Top, fishing boats going out at dusk, they are the most interesting looking vessels I have seen, with long wooden arms attached to drop the nets, these three were bound together I suppose to haul a really big net; Bottom, across the lake, with the DRC mountains in the distance.)
After our amazing gorilla hike, we decided to check out Lake Kivu which is along Rwanda's western border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). We were lucky enough to get a ride with our Belgian friends to the lake from Parc National des Volcans.
The Belgians
I initially noticed these two at Lake Bunyonyi because they arrived in their vehicle and had this awesome rooftop tent, then, when we ran into them again at Volcans, we struck up a travelers-relationship. Their names are something like Jorgda and Jouquin. They are driving from Belgium to Cape Town over a year and they had some good stories about their trip.
They explained that in Belgium, companies with 50 employees or more are required to provide 5 years off to employees. Many people take this for having children or sick parents and to travel. While the employee is gone, the company hires someone from the unemployment rolls so the government gets one person off and pays the one who is on the sabbatical their "unemployment" so the public expenditure is not affected. Good system!
It was great to get a ride with them to the lake because the motorcycle ride to Volcans was pain-FUL! It was bumpy and carrying a backpack while balancing on one of those things is a serious ab-workout, like doing a crunch for 20 minutes while squeezing your thighs together to keep your balance. Needless to say, I was very happy to accept a ride.
Lake Kivu
Lake Kivu is a giant lake separating Rwanda's eastern border from the DRC. It is very beautiful but is kept from being a full-resort area because (1) is adjacent to the DRC, (2) some bad stuff happened here during the genocide, and (3) I might be the only one who would mention this, but it is one of the lakes in the world where a fatal limnic eruption may occur. The lake is on top of a large methane pocket and if an earthquake or other geologic event dislodged a large amount of methane, the gas would bubble up, then settle over the lake and the towns, displacing all of the oxygen and suffocating all life that happens to be there at the time. As the Lonely Planet notes, there is nothing one can do if this happens during your visit and the final scent one may expect in her life is a horrible earthly fart.
Two of these eruptions occurred in lakes in Cameroon in the 1980s and killed a couple of thousand people. I was not worried about this during our stay because eruptions had never been recorded at Lae Kivu and the local beer brewery (for Primus beer) was using the methane to power its beer-making, thereby potentially relieving some of the gaseous pressure. What a corporate citizen! (Apparently, the gov't is also studying how they can use this resource which could be a significant source of power for the country and would make the 2 million people who live on Lake Kivu's shores safe from death by methane-suffocation.)
We checked out some hotels in the big Rwandan town on the lake (Gisinyi) but decided to get to a smaller location, another moto ride with giant backpacks on (I am getting used to these, we just can't get the car-taxis to compete on price with the cost of two motos, maybe in Tanzania we will have better luck). We arrived at a place recommended in the LP and were greeted heartily by the staff...until they learned we did not have a reservation. They solemnly explained that they were full for two nights. It turned out it was 40,000 Rwandan francs a night ($80) so too rich for our blood. But, they had les maison available. What? The house? They took us two doors down to a private house, with no sign on it, which was completely empty save a housekeeper who did not speak english or french. It was 15,000 ($30), more up our alley, and the garden sloped right to the Lake's shores, so we put aside our trepidation at being the only guests in the residence and took the room.
It was in this lakeside town that I began to dislike being called a muzungu. This means white person in Kinarwanda, the local language. Walking along the streets of the small town, pretty much everyone turns to look at us. Scott is very friendly, callout Muraho (hello!) to groups that look for a long time, waving both of his giant paws at them. They almost invariably break into big smiles, pleased that we have tried the language and greet us back. Sometimes though, there is a group of older kids who mutter muzungu as we approach to alert their friends who turn and look. I have decided that I must respond with an elbow at Scott and perhaps a giggle before I mutter something like Silly Hombre and point at them, fight fire with fire! One other annoying thing that some kids say is "Muzungu, give me money!". My response which I like very much is "Give ME money" and I point emphatically to my outstretched hand. I did this in Kigali the other day and these construction dudes who witnessed it thought it was very funny, if I do say so myself. These annoyances aside, most people are very very friendly and the kids think we are fascinating, we had this funny walk at one point at the lake where, 4 toddlers saw us from across the street and came running full force at us, with one of them, like 3 years old, landing right into my legs and hugging me with that little toddler-hug that kids do around adult-legs. Very funny.
We spent three languid days at this spot doing very little other than take in the scenery which was very nice.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Gorillas
There are 720 mountain gorillas still living in the wild. These are clustered across two mountain systems, one in Uganda (within Bwindi Impenetrable Forest NP) and the other in the border region between Rwanda, Uganda, and the DRC. Gorillas live in family groups, led by one silverback male and several females. Occasionally, large groups can have some "junior" silverbacks, as well, though this doesn't seem to be very common.
Within Rwanda there are fifteen groups, of which seven receive regular visits from tourists. (The rest are visited by researchers only.) This region of the world contains one of the densest human populations on the planet, which has created enormous pressure on the gorilla population. That there are so few remaining is caused by habitat encroachment by humans and by poachers who kill the gorillas (either to prevent them from invading farmland or for food--either way the problem is one of conflict over resources).
So what hope is there for the gorillas? As with many tourist events in Africa, there are two sides to the story. On the one hand, tourism may be the best hope to keep gorillas alive in the wild--it costs $500 per person to visit the gorillas for one hour, and there is significant demand even at that price point. In turn, this income, generated in an otherwise impoverished part of the planet, creates powerful incentives for governments and local people to protect the gorillas--indeed, within Rwanda's Volcanoes NP each gorilla group now has an armed human guard during all daylight hours.
On the other hand, as the gorillas get used to human contact at least two problems arise. The first is that they lose their fear of humans, and in 2007 seven gorillas were murdered in the DRC. The second is that, with shared biology (gorillas share 97% of their DNA with humans) comes shared diseases, and there is a very real risk of
disease jumping between the two populations as they come in contact.
We were lucky enough to visit with Group 13 (named by Dian Fossey as the 13th group she visited, the group actually has 24 members), located between Sabinyo and Bisoke mountains. It's one of the largest groups, with a single silverback hosting ten females and ten juveniles. And we were even more lucky, as the newest member of the
gorilla world was just four days old when we visited.
The trek was really something. We started around 2200 meters elevation and climbed to about 3000 meters, and found the group within the crater of the volcano, a spectacular setting. It's the rainy season here, so it was damp and muddy, but we did not have any significant rainfall during the hike (which was also lucky--the day after it poured and poured). Three hours up, one hour with the gorillas, and two hours down. The photos speak for themselves.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Kigali
Rwanda. I know what you are thinking. Genocide. Play the word-association game against Rwanda and your list probably includes just this one word. And, unless you are a devoted reader of Nicolas Kristof's columns, you would be forgiven--the western media has been awful about reporting anything about Africa other than war and disease. Other media have been equally one-sided--Hotel Rwanda is a tale within the genocide, Jared Diamond's chapter on the country in Collapse speculates about some of the reasons for the genocide, and pretty much all books published about the country recently focus on some aspect of that awful story.
Yet there seems to be something more profound going on in this country. Where other countries with recent conflicts, like Cambodia or Guatemala, can feel tired and broken, there is a vibrancy to contemporary Rwanda that would be remarkable even if the 1994 conflict had not occurred. That 800,000 people (around 10% of the population!) died here just 16 years ago makes what is happening now even more unusual.
Start with Kigali. As a traveler, the rule in Africa is generally to avoid capitals. They are dirty, crowded, chaotic, and dangerous in a hundred ways. The first thing we noticed on arrival in Kigali was the absence of garbage--not only did Rwanda ban the plastic shopping bags that litter the streets of other cities, but the country has had national public holidays where everyone goes out and picks up the
trash. Next thing we noticed were the moto-taxi drivers, all wearing helmets and holding helmets for their passengers (I don't think I've ever seen a motorcycle helmet in Africa before, and in this country EVERY driver is wearing one).
So we hopped on motos to head off to my friend Serena's house, and discovered something else. Paved and line-painted roads. With no potholes. And with streetlights. With groomed medians and roundabouts. More than once we saw work groups planting flowers along the shoulders of the roads. And in pretty much every direction there were cranes or construction crews, building office buildings, building new houses, transforming the city.
This is not to say that there is no poverty. Indeed, in the hinterlands there is still a lot of obvious poverty. Many people live in the most basic of mud huts. The population pressures that Jared Diamond wrote about are manifest in the agriculture that is present on every square inch of arable land, even on the most improbably sloped mountains. And there seems to be much less public investment in areas outside of the main roads and tourist attractions.
All this order and frenzied development seems to have come at a price. The president has an iron grip on power, and earned 94% of the vote in the last election. Moto drivers would only buy and wear helmets if there were some awful punishment in store for non-compliance. There is, apparently, no opposition media and no real opposition. And the success of quieting Rwanda has significantly destabilized the eastern Congo, as the losers in the 1994 conflict (who generally perpetrated the genocide) fled across the border into that lawless region.
But with those caveats, the results of all this effort are undeniable. This president is not unlike other African presidents who have consolidated power, but here that power has been used, at least in part, to build infrastructure, to protect moto-taxi skulls, and to otherwise invest in the country. At some point I will look up the numbers, as I have a hunch that all this development is being driven
by low corruption (!!) and very large post-genocide aid flows. But something is definitely going right in this place.
Yet there seems to be something more profound going on in this country. Where other countries with recent conflicts, like Cambodia or Guatemala, can feel tired and broken, there is a vibrancy to contemporary Rwanda that would be remarkable even if the 1994 conflict had not occurred. That 800,000 people (around 10% of the population!) died here just 16 years ago makes what is happening now even more unusual.
Start with Kigali. As a traveler, the rule in Africa is generally to avoid capitals. They are dirty, crowded, chaotic, and dangerous in a hundred ways. The first thing we noticed on arrival in Kigali was the absence of garbage--not only did Rwanda ban the plastic shopping bags that litter the streets of other cities, but the country has had national public holidays where everyone goes out and picks up the
trash. Next thing we noticed were the moto-taxi drivers, all wearing helmets and holding helmets for their passengers (I don't think I've ever seen a motorcycle helmet in Africa before, and in this country EVERY driver is wearing one).
So we hopped on motos to head off to my friend Serena's house, and discovered something else. Paved and line-painted roads. With no potholes. And with streetlights. With groomed medians and roundabouts. More than once we saw work groups planting flowers along the shoulders of the roads. And in pretty much every direction there were cranes or construction crews, building office buildings, building new houses, transforming the city.
This is not to say that there is no poverty. Indeed, in the hinterlands there is still a lot of obvious poverty. Many people live in the most basic of mud huts. The population pressures that Jared Diamond wrote about are manifest in the agriculture that is present on every square inch of arable land, even on the most improbably sloped mountains. And there seems to be much less public investment in areas outside of the main roads and tourist attractions.
All this order and frenzied development seems to have come at a price. The president has an iron grip on power, and earned 94% of the vote in the last election. Moto drivers would only buy and wear helmets if there were some awful punishment in store for non-compliance. There is, apparently, no opposition media and no real opposition. And the success of quieting Rwanda has significantly destabilized the eastern Congo, as the losers in the 1994 conflict (who generally perpetrated the genocide) fled across the border into that lawless region.
But with those caveats, the results of all this effort are undeniable. This president is not unlike other African presidents who have consolidated power, but here that power has been used, at least in part, to build infrastructure, to protect moto-taxi skulls, and to otherwise invest in the country. At some point I will look up the numbers, as I have a hunch that all this development is being driven
by low corruption (!!) and very large post-genocide aid flows. But something is definitely going right in this place.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Borders.
In this age of jet travel and Schengen zones, even the most adventurous travelers rarely cross fortified land borders.
Over the years, Becca and I have crossed a handful of borders that actually required passport presentations. We crossed from Mexico into the US across the "fortified" border on New Year's Eve and were waived through without a second glance. We crossed from Guatemala into Belize, were accused of overstaying our visa (we'd been there nine days, our visa was good for ninety), asked to pay a "fine" of about $8, stood around looking stupid for a half hour, and eventually were sent on our way with a "receipt" for our fine despite never having paid anyone anything. And we once crossed from Tunisia to Palermo on a boat, stood in line for four hours with several hundred Tunisians waiting for the Italian guard to stamp our passport, only to have him waive us through when he saw we were Americans.
So it was with high hopes for a good tale to tell that we approached the Uganda-Rwanda border this morning. We had been staying at Lake Bunyonyi, with no transport back to town, so we got up at the crack of dawn. Within minutes, we were each on the back of motorcycles headed for the frontier, and 45 minutes later we were standing in the Uganda-out line. "You'll have to repay to reenter," the guy said helpfully. OK. Stamped out, we walked into no-man's land. Three hundred meters later we reached Rwandan immmigration. "Welcome to Rwanda," the guy said. OK. Stamp. We were in.
Huh?
We've got a few more borders to cross on this trip, but at this point we have NOT added to our border-crossing story list.
Also, we will post more in days to come about Rwanda, but suffice it to say that the place is VERY remarkable.
Over the years, Becca and I have crossed a handful of borders that actually required passport presentations. We crossed from Mexico into the US across the "fortified" border on New Year's Eve and were waived through without a second glance. We crossed from Guatemala into Belize, were accused of overstaying our visa (we'd been there nine days, our visa was good for ninety), asked to pay a "fine" of about $8, stood around looking stupid for a half hour, and eventually were sent on our way with a "receipt" for our fine despite never having paid anyone anything. And we once crossed from Tunisia to Palermo on a boat, stood in line for four hours with several hundred Tunisians waiting for the Italian guard to stamp our passport, only to have him waive us through when he saw we were Americans.
So it was with high hopes for a good tale to tell that we approached the Uganda-Rwanda border this morning. We had been staying at Lake Bunyonyi, with no transport back to town, so we got up at the crack of dawn. Within minutes, we were each on the back of motorcycles headed for the frontier, and 45 minutes later we were standing in the Uganda-out line. "You'll have to repay to reenter," the guy said helpfully. OK. Stamped out, we walked into no-man's land. Three hundred meters later we reached Rwandan immmigration. "Welcome to Rwanda," the guy said. OK. Stamp. We were in.
Huh?
We've got a few more borders to cross on this trip, but at this point we have NOT added to our border-crossing story list.
Also, we will post more in days to come about Rwanda, but suffice it to say that the place is VERY remarkable.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Uganda - Primary School
Lake Bunyonyi is a beautiful lake in southwestern Uganda, right near the border with Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It has contoured edges, with heavily terraced hillsides where all kinds of things are grown. It is 6000 feet deep, the deepest in Uganda and supposedly the second deepest in Africa. We have come here to relax and master the art of doing nothing. It is a good place for this. After checking into our army tent on a platform with a great view of the lake, we take a stroll around the small town. Within just a couple of minutes of wandering around, a young boy adopts us and begins to follow us. He is small, but is 10 years old. (I cannot remember how to say nor how to spell his name). He is wearing ratty sweat pants that say Mickey Mouse down the leg, a sweatshirt and no shoes. While almost all adults I have seen so far have shoes on, many kids do not. Guess they change sizes too much to warrant the investment in shoes.
Anyhow, companion number 1 has a very serious expression. We ask about him and learn that his mom and dad are dead and that he has a younger sister. We are not sure if this is true or if this is a story for white people to gain sympathy, but I notice him wipe his eyes between scowls, so I believe it is a true story. We wander around town a bit and chat with many other people. As we are concluding our loop he asks us for money; he is only the second person to ask for money since we arrived in Uganda which surprises me. Instead, we wander up to the only fruit stand in town and buy some bananas to share with him. He gobbles his down.
We continue our walk towards the only sight in town, the House of Edirisa primary school (Edirisa runs a hotel and tours in the area and have helped to build the school). He tells us that this is his school. As we are walking, we gain two more companions, one is 12 and says his name is something that sounds like Johnson. The other little boy may or may not be Johnson's little brother and he is small and says he his 9, but the others correct him and say he is 7. Johnson happily chomps on a raw potato as we walk. And Little Guy is very shy, he walks a couple of steps behind us the whole time but these three stay with us for several hours. It takes maybe 40 minutes to get to the school during which we chat mostly about the plants we pass, the beautiful scenery, and how many languages there are in Uganda (the kids named more than 10). We arrive at the school and encounter some older boys playing football, one is 14 and in his last year in the school and the other is 21 and has finished school and I suppose is now trying to figure out what he can do. These two leave their soccer game to follow us to the school.
While at the bright school - which has a giant globe in the center grass courtyard and is painted with "quizzes" on the walls like name the parts of the heart, the skin, the eye, the national parks in Uganda, etc - we meet two volunteers at a medical clinic adjacent to the school. They are Slovenian and maybe 25, we chat for a bit and learn that they have just arrived 1 week ago and will stay 3 months total at the clinic. They ask how the food is at our lodging place and whether there is pizza served. We take pictures of some of the kids at the school and they like to see themselves on our camera screen; Scott points to each one of them on the screen and says "look at that handsome gentleman," Little Guy grins, Johnson smiles and our first companion continues to look serious.
As we are leaving the school, we pass by the bathroom facilities. When Scott starts to go nearer to take a look, our companions protest vigorously that the facilities are bad and that he cannot use them. He says he just wants to take a look and we all stand back while he does so - He emerges and they comment that the facilities are bad, that they are dirty. They all solemnly agree.
The kids follow us all the way back to the hotel, right to the door where they cannot enter and we bid them goodbye with individual handshakes. Unsurprisingly, this walk with the kids is the most enduring experience so far for me. They are all tiny, I look at their sizes relative to the kids in my life, Sara at 11 is probably 2 feet taller than the 12 year old and 30 pounds heavier; Brooke at almost 8 is much bigger than the 10 year old and the Little Guy would look like a toddler next to Nic and Nicole, who are 1 year younger than he. I keep mentally comparing the kids' sizes to American-kid sizes and exclaiming to myself that they are so small; I suppose their stature reflects all of the hardships of poverty but their size is easier to comment upon than to dig too deeply into their nutrition, access to medical care, and presence or absence of parents.
Ahh, the walk to see the primary school.
- Becca
Anyhow, companion number 1 has a very serious expression. We ask about him and learn that his mom and dad are dead and that he has a younger sister. We are not sure if this is true or if this is a story for white people to gain sympathy, but I notice him wipe his eyes between scowls, so I believe it is a true story. We wander around town a bit and chat with many other people. As we are concluding our loop he asks us for money; he is only the second person to ask for money since we arrived in Uganda which surprises me. Instead, we wander up to the only fruit stand in town and buy some bananas to share with him. He gobbles his down.
We continue our walk towards the only sight in town, the House of Edirisa primary school (Edirisa runs a hotel and tours in the area and have helped to build the school). He tells us that this is his school. As we are walking, we gain two more companions, one is 12 and says his name is something that sounds like Johnson. The other little boy may or may not be Johnson's little brother and he is small and says he his 9, but the others correct him and say he is 7. Johnson happily chomps on a raw potato as we walk. And Little Guy is very shy, he walks a couple of steps behind us the whole time but these three stay with us for several hours. It takes maybe 40 minutes to get to the school during which we chat mostly about the plants we pass, the beautiful scenery, and how many languages there are in Uganda (the kids named more than 10). We arrive at the school and encounter some older boys playing football, one is 14 and in his last year in the school and the other is 21 and has finished school and I suppose is now trying to figure out what he can do. These two leave their soccer game to follow us to the school.
While at the bright school - which has a giant globe in the center grass courtyard and is painted with "quizzes" on the walls like name the parts of the heart, the skin, the eye, the national parks in Uganda, etc - we meet two volunteers at a medical clinic adjacent to the school. They are Slovenian and maybe 25, we chat for a bit and learn that they have just arrived 1 week ago and will stay 3 months total at the clinic. They ask how the food is at our lodging place and whether there is pizza served. We take pictures of some of the kids at the school and they like to see themselves on our camera screen; Scott points to each one of them on the screen and says "look at that handsome gentleman," Little Guy grins, Johnson smiles and our first companion continues to look serious.
As we are leaving the school, we pass by the bathroom facilities. When Scott starts to go nearer to take a look, our companions protest vigorously that the facilities are bad and that he cannot use them. He says he just wants to take a look and we all stand back while he does so - He emerges and they comment that the facilities are bad, that they are dirty. They all solemnly agree.
The kids follow us all the way back to the hotel, right to the door where they cannot enter and we bid them goodbye with individual handshakes. Unsurprisingly, this walk with the kids is the most enduring experience so far for me. They are all tiny, I look at their sizes relative to the kids in my life, Sara at 11 is probably 2 feet taller than the 12 year old and 30 pounds heavier; Brooke at almost 8 is much bigger than the 10 year old and the Little Guy would look like a toddler next to Nic and Nicole, who are 1 year younger than he. I keep mentally comparing the kids' sizes to American-kid sizes and exclaiming to myself that they are so small; I suppose their stature reflects all of the hardships of poverty but their size is easier to comment upon than to dig too deeply into their nutrition, access to medical care, and presence or absence of parents.
Ahh, the walk to see the primary school.
- Becca
Friday, May 7, 2010
Uganda - Entebbe to Lake Bunyonyi
We flew from Johannesburg to Entebbe, Uganda - arriving in the Pearl of Africa around 7pm, we exited the plane to the beautiful sight of Lake Victoria and a hot rush of equatorial damp air (Entebbe is located right at the north of Lake Victoria). No problem getting into the country, everyone paid $50 per person entrance fee, so everyone was in the big passport line clutching $100 US bills in their hands, the border guys took them and threw them into a drawer and provided us an entrance receipt (it says Robert Scott Lyons and wife, hhehe, pre-honeymoon).
Entebbe
Entebbe is a smallish town, we stayed in a pretty nice place for two nights (see picture of garden dinner, with their pet turkey who hung out with us during our stay), resting up a bit - We went on one long walk to town to see their main attraction , a zoo which features rescued chimps - On our walk their, two dudes adopted us for part of the walk, during our chat, their first reply to learning that we are Americans is "Ahh, Barack Obama" (this has been the uniform response since that time, with one guy actaully wearing a Barack Obama's face t-shirt and noting that he was considering changing his name to Obamna). We also learned that school in Entebbe costs 300,000 Uganada shillings per year (for room and board) a little more than $300, we were not sure if that was private school, but he said he had dropped out because of "troubles" but that he was interested in studying tourism, then he asked if we wanted a tour guide, hahah. We politely declined and we went amicably on our way.
Big camel and little camel at the Entebbe Zoo, in front of Lake Victoria.
Travel Entebbe to Kabale - The Long Day
The distance from Entebbe to Lake Bunyonyi (in the very south of Uganda, near the Rwanda border) is about 500 km or 300 miles. Knowing this would be a long travel day, we got up around 6am and hit the road at 7am. We wandered around the town a bit before finding a matatu (mini-bus, with 4 rows of seats 3-4 people each row) that would go to Kampala, Uganda's capital and the place where we could find all of the big, long distance buses. Matatu found, success!, we were on our way. About 5km outside of Kampala, huge traffic jam, all filled with matatus, boda bodas (motorcycle-taxis), bicycle taxis, people streaming into the city on foot and private cars. We finally reached the bus station after about 1 hour in traffic. When Scott and I got off, we were somewhat swamped by people wanting to help us find our way to the big bus station - This was the hardest walking we had done yet, because we were making our way through a giant crowd trying to not lose one another with our giant backpacks on, with a vague idea of where to go, with a bunch of dudes trying to figure out what we wanted so they could help us and maybe get a tip. Luckily, the bus station was very near and one of our self-appointed guides found our bus
immediately.
9:00am and the bus was leaving at 10:00am, what luck! We got on the big bus, it had two tiny seats on one side and three on the other, so we smushed in next to each other, preparing for the 7 hour bus ride. A stream of vendors get on the bus - water, soda, fruit plates, soaks, headbands, underwear, soap, watches, cell phone chargers.. 10am comes and goes. The bus is filling up. It is geting hot in there! 11am... the bus is full..The bus starts! Then, the engine is turned off.. The vendors keep coming, meat on a stick, chapatti bread, Becca is getting angry..!! We are the only foreigners on the bus, so I look around to see if anyone else looks like they are about to raise hell. No one. Looking around the bus station (just a big dirt parking lot, teeming with travelers, vendors, people bringing their goods to send in the undercarriage of the buses) - I have a feeling of being very insignificant and realize the futility of my annoyance, nothing is going to get this bus going before it is completely full.
12:30pm, we finally get on our way! Into, a HORRENDOUS traffic jam. We probably are out of the city around 1:30 and then we are moving. We are moving quickly, we do not stop for much of anything other than to quickly let people on and off. There is a brief break at a gas station when mostly the men get off for the bathroom. When we go through towns, we slow down and vendors on the side of the road shout out their prepared food, meat on a stick, chapatti bread, I am intrigued by the grilled plantains and buy one through the window, I just make the purchase and my plantain salesmen has to jog to catch my 200 Uganda shillings ($0.12). We have not eaten much at this point in anticipation of the long bus ride, so even though it was not ripe, it was some much needed fuel!
Maybe 2 hours from our destination, a loud BANG. The back left tire has blown out. Very, very unfortunate. We all get off the bus to watch the driver and helper change the giant bus tire. We are shocked when 30 minutes later, we are back on the road. Next bit bad fortune, it is getting dark. It is not good to get to a new town, with few if any streetlight, where you don't know your way around and have not decided on a place to stay, in the dark. And my internal clock is on "very tired" when the sun goes down, so I am not at my best. It is completely dark when we arrive at the town, Kabale which is kind of a way station for Lake Bunyonyi and other excusions. This time, our taxi "helpers" get on the bus before we get off to inquire about where we are going, if we need a taxi, etc. This crush of people hangs out with us while we are waiting for our taxi - I am still a bit too nervous to ride the boda boda (motorbike, with a little seat in the back) with my backpack, I feel like I will fall off, so we decide take a car-taxi. We pick one guy from the throng and go over to his taxi to haggle - He offers 5,000 Uganda shillings ($12) to go just 3 km.
We are outraged. Scott haggles, we want to pay 2,000. He is firm at 4,000 and we walk away. We are surprised that he lets us go, but we find another man and get him down to 2,500. A victory!
It is now about 9pm and we have been traveling since 7am and have eaten very little and I, for one, have not gone to the bathroom all day . (I have not succombed to going on the side of the road which Scott finds amusing. He is waiting for me to break!) We go to a couple of the lodging places which are recommended in the Lonely Planet -Shocking, the first place only has dorm beds in 6 people per room. We are too good for that. We move on to place number two, completely booked! Like the first place, this proprietor of this place is very friendly. He takes us across the road to a third place which is probably the least nice of them all and we agree on a price and a room there. Phew!
Kabale - Dinner with the Brits
We follow him back to his place, which has a restaurant still open, for a very late dinner. As soon as we sit down, the only other diners in the place - a British couple in their 50s - ask us if we found accomodations. We strike up a conversation. They are very chatty, they are VSO (Britain's Peace Corps) volunteers doing what they always intended to do, volunteer work in East Africa. They have been in the country for about 6 months and sound like they are on the verge of going home! Not due to cultural/comfort reasons - the man grew up in Tanzania and they are accustomed to east Africa travel - but because of their witnessing of very very discouraging corruption.
They both were in education, the man working with disabled adults, many of whom had diseases like polio or measles, which had left them unable to walk or blind. He actually sounded like he was doing ok, but the poor woman told her superiors about an education ministry employee who stole donated money and was denounced publiclly for her actions and nearly fired. The VSO intervened and she still works in the education ministry but she said that no other employees talk to her.
The destination we (finally!) made it to the date after this post, Lake Bunyonyi.
After our fun evening conversation, we finally went off to bed and
thus concluded the very long day.
-Becca
Entebbe
Entebbe is a smallish town, we stayed in a pretty nice place for two nights (see picture of garden dinner, with their pet turkey who hung out with us during our stay), resting up a bit - We went on one long walk to town to see their main attraction , a zoo which features rescued chimps - On our walk their, two dudes adopted us for part of the walk, during our chat, their first reply to learning that we are Americans is "Ahh, Barack Obama" (this has been the uniform response since that time, with one guy actaully wearing a Barack Obama's face t-shirt and noting that he was considering changing his name to Obamna). We also learned that school in Entebbe costs 300,000 Uganada shillings per year (for room and board) a little more than $300, we were not sure if that was private school, but he said he had dropped out because of "troubles" but that he was interested in studying tourism, then he asked if we wanted a tour guide, hahah. We politely declined and we went amicably on our way.
Big camel and little camel at the Entebbe Zoo, in front of Lake Victoria.
Travel Entebbe to Kabale - The Long Day
The distance from Entebbe to Lake Bunyonyi (in the very south of Uganda, near the Rwanda border) is about 500 km or 300 miles. Knowing this would be a long travel day, we got up around 6am and hit the road at 7am. We wandered around the town a bit before finding a matatu (mini-bus, with 4 rows of seats 3-4 people each row) that would go to Kampala, Uganda's capital and the place where we could find all of the big, long distance buses. Matatu found, success!, we were on our way. About 5km outside of Kampala, huge traffic jam, all filled with matatus, boda bodas (motorcycle-taxis), bicycle taxis, people streaming into the city on foot and private cars. We finally reached the bus station after about 1 hour in traffic. When Scott and I got off, we were somewhat swamped by people wanting to help us find our way to the big bus station - This was the hardest walking we had done yet, because we were making our way through a giant crowd trying to not lose one another with our giant backpacks on, with a vague idea of where to go, with a bunch of dudes trying to figure out what we wanted so they could help us and maybe get a tip. Luckily, the bus station was very near and one of our self-appointed guides found our bus
immediately.
9:00am and the bus was leaving at 10:00am, what luck! We got on the big bus, it had two tiny seats on one side and three on the other, so we smushed in next to each other, preparing for the 7 hour bus ride. A stream of vendors get on the bus - water, soda, fruit plates, soaks, headbands, underwear, soap, watches, cell phone chargers.. 10am comes and goes. The bus is filling up. It is geting hot in there! 11am... the bus is full..The bus starts! Then, the engine is turned off.. The vendors keep coming, meat on a stick, chapatti bread, Becca is getting angry..!! We are the only foreigners on the bus, so I look around to see if anyone else looks like they are about to raise hell. No one. Looking around the bus station (just a big dirt parking lot, teeming with travelers, vendors, people bringing their goods to send in the undercarriage of the buses) - I have a feeling of being very insignificant and realize the futility of my annoyance, nothing is going to get this bus going before it is completely full.
12:30pm, we finally get on our way! Into, a HORRENDOUS traffic jam. We probably are out of the city around 1:30 and then we are moving. We are moving quickly, we do not stop for much of anything other than to quickly let people on and off. There is a brief break at a gas station when mostly the men get off for the bathroom. When we go through towns, we slow down and vendors on the side of the road shout out their prepared food, meat on a stick, chapatti bread, I am intrigued by the grilled plantains and buy one through the window, I just make the purchase and my plantain salesmen has to jog to catch my 200 Uganda shillings ($0.12). We have not eaten much at this point in anticipation of the long bus ride, so even though it was not ripe, it was some much needed fuel!
Maybe 2 hours from our destination, a loud BANG. The back left tire has blown out. Very, very unfortunate. We all get off the bus to watch the driver and helper change the giant bus tire. We are shocked when 30 minutes later, we are back on the road. Next bit bad fortune, it is getting dark. It is not good to get to a new town, with few if any streetlight, where you don't know your way around and have not decided on a place to stay, in the dark. And my internal clock is on "very tired" when the sun goes down, so I am not at my best. It is completely dark when we arrive at the town, Kabale which is kind of a way station for Lake Bunyonyi and other excusions. This time, our taxi "helpers" get on the bus before we get off to inquire about where we are going, if we need a taxi, etc. This crush of people hangs out with us while we are waiting for our taxi - I am still a bit too nervous to ride the boda boda (motorbike, with a little seat in the back) with my backpack, I feel like I will fall off, so we decide take a car-taxi. We pick one guy from the throng and go over to his taxi to haggle - He offers 5,000 Uganda shillings ($12) to go just 3 km.
We are outraged. Scott haggles, we want to pay 2,000. He is firm at 4,000 and we walk away. We are surprised that he lets us go, but we find another man and get him down to 2,500. A victory!
It is now about 9pm and we have been traveling since 7am and have eaten very little and I, for one, have not gone to the bathroom all day . (I have not succombed to going on the side of the road which Scott finds amusing. He is waiting for me to break!) We go to a couple of the lodging places which are recommended in the Lonely Planet -Shocking, the first place only has dorm beds in 6 people per room. We are too good for that. We move on to place number two, completely booked! Like the first place, this proprietor of this place is very friendly. He takes us across the road to a third place which is probably the least nice of them all and we agree on a price and a room there. Phew!
Kabale - Dinner with the Brits
We follow him back to his place, which has a restaurant still open, for a very late dinner. As soon as we sit down, the only other diners in the place - a British couple in their 50s - ask us if we found accomodations. We strike up a conversation. They are very chatty, they are VSO (Britain's Peace Corps) volunteers doing what they always intended to do, volunteer work in East Africa. They have been in the country for about 6 months and sound like they are on the verge of going home! Not due to cultural/comfort reasons - the man grew up in Tanzania and they are accustomed to east Africa travel - but because of their witnessing of very very discouraging corruption.
They both were in education, the man working with disabled adults, many of whom had diseases like polio or measles, which had left them unable to walk or blind. He actually sounded like he was doing ok, but the poor woman told her superiors about an education ministry employee who stole donated money and was denounced publiclly for her actions and nearly fired. The VSO intervened and she still works in the education ministry but she said that no other employees talk to her.
The destination we (finally!) made it to the date after this post, Lake Bunyonyi.
After our fun evening conversation, we finally went off to bed and
thus concluded the very long day.
-Becca
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Pushstart
Woke up on Tuesday morning after our first full night's horizontal sleep since Saturday night. Beds are very nice. Today we had a lot of business to take care of including picking up our World Cup tickets, figuring out our cell phone situation, and getting visa for Cameroon.
As it happened, we probably needed a lot more than just one night's sleep to tame the dumbness which seems to go along with the jet lag. We arrived at the world cup ticket pick up only to find that we had forgotten some key items including money (to pay for parking), ID, etc. We had to drive all the way home and back through the traffic and construction (there is lots going on here in preparation for the big event).
But then.. We arrived at the FIFA HQ along with a dozen or so excited fans – One set of dudes was there the whole time taking really high quality photos of their tickets in different positions – fanned out on the floor, held in their hands with big smiles, etc. When our turn came, the ticket booth worker showed us each ticket and pointed out where the bus pick-ups would be to take people to the stadiums and inquired about our favorite team. Knowing that we are pulling for the Cameroonian Indomitable Lions in our Netherlands v. Cameroon, he noted that, he would not lie to us, he does not think that the Lions can prevail in the match. He also said that, he noticed that we are Americans and said that fans in fans in South Africa were very proud of how the US performed in the Confederations Cup. USA! USA!
Note: there are still tickets to US/England game to anyone considering the trip!
We next headed to the nicest part of South Africa and maybe all of Africa, Sandton – It kind of looked to me a bit like Arlington, VA, big parkways, lots of 6-8 story condos, big hotels (where a lot of the FIFA-selected hotels are), and of course office spaces and big malls. We went to the Sandton mall to look for a proper cell phone – It turns out that stupid our AT&T Blackberry will not accept international SIM cards – We decided to potentially purchase a cell phone here for about $20, then we can buy minutes as we go along. The mall also had wireless internet for purchase, so we bought that but then realized our trusty laptop was out of juice. We hadn't charged it the night before. Dumb dumbs.
We got home to charge the laptop and of course we left the headlights on in the car and drained the battery. Whoops.. After a brief conference we decided to try to push-start it in the apartment complex parking lot – this involved pushing it out of the space and down the small hill in the lot. Thank golly for these little cute cars, we easily pushed it out of the space and, I must say, we had quite a feeling of triumph when Scott popped the clutch and the engine turned over! Yahooo, the end of dumb-dumb-day.
We spent the rest of the day with Jessy in the Apartheid Museum which is pretty impressive. We only had 2 hours before they closed and that was not enough. An interesting thing, going through the museum we saw several references to Tim's boss, George Bizos who is a Greek immigrant to South Africa – He was Nelson Mandela's friend and an attorney at the organization where Tim interns that provides free legal services.
- Becca
As it happened, we probably needed a lot more than just one night's sleep to tame the dumbness which seems to go along with the jet lag. We arrived at the world cup ticket pick up only to find that we had forgotten some key items including money (to pay for parking), ID, etc. We had to drive all the way home and back through the traffic and construction (there is lots going on here in preparation for the big event).
But then.. We arrived at the FIFA HQ along with a dozen or so excited fans – One set of dudes was there the whole time taking really high quality photos of their tickets in different positions – fanned out on the floor, held in their hands with big smiles, etc. When our turn came, the ticket booth worker showed us each ticket and pointed out where the bus pick-ups would be to take people to the stadiums and inquired about our favorite team. Knowing that we are pulling for the Cameroonian Indomitable Lions in our Netherlands v. Cameroon, he noted that, he would not lie to us, he does not think that the Lions can prevail in the match. He also said that, he noticed that we are Americans and said that fans in fans in South Africa were very proud of how the US performed in the Confederations Cup. USA! USA!
Note: there are still tickets to US/England game to anyone considering the trip!
We next headed to the nicest part of South Africa and maybe all of Africa, Sandton – It kind of looked to me a bit like Arlington, VA, big parkways, lots of 6-8 story condos, big hotels (where a lot of the FIFA-selected hotels are), and of course office spaces and big malls. We went to the Sandton mall to look for a proper cell phone – It turns out that stupid our AT&T Blackberry will not accept international SIM cards – We decided to potentially purchase a cell phone here for about $20, then we can buy minutes as we go along. The mall also had wireless internet for purchase, so we bought that but then realized our trusty laptop was out of juice. We hadn't charged it the night before. Dumb dumbs.
We got home to charge the laptop and of course we left the headlights on in the car and drained the battery. Whoops.. After a brief conference we decided to try to push-start it in the apartment complex parking lot – this involved pushing it out of the space and down the small hill in the lot. Thank golly for these little cute cars, we easily pushed it out of the space and, I must say, we had quite a feeling of triumph when Scott popped the clutch and the engine turned over! Yahooo, the end of dumb-dumb-day.
We spent the rest of the day with Jessy in the Apartheid Museum which is pretty impressive. We only had 2 hours before they closed and that was not enough. An interesting thing, going through the museum we saw several references to Tim's boss, George Bizos who is a Greek immigrant to South Africa – He was Nelson Mandela's friend and an attorney at the organization where Tim interns that provides free legal services.
- Becca
Cash.
Cash. If you've ever traveled in an underdeveloped country, you know the drill. Lots and lots of cash. Because there are usually no credit card facilities, ATMs are rare, and changing money is a real pain-in-the-ass, and because you've got to constantly buy food, water, taxi fares, hotel rooms, travelers end up carrying around lots of cash.
We entered Uganda today and the visa at the airport was $50 per person. In US Dollars. So I peeled a hundred-dollar bill off my wad (we are crossing into Rwanda next week, and then back into Uganda, so that will probably be another $200 in visas) and handed it over to the border agent. He cheerfully tossed it into a drawer full of other travellers' precious large-denomination dollars and handed me a receipt. And some fancy passport stamps which allowed us into the country.
So at any given time we are carrying several hundred-dollar bills, a few hundred-thousand of the local currency (currently Ugandan shillings) and a few hundred of the regional currency (currently South African rand). And maybe a handful of Euros just for good measure (though we're keeping a wary eye on the Greeks to see if our Euros hold their value).
For the traveller, cash-based economies are problematic. What to do with all that cash? What if someone steals your bag and it has cash in it? What if you get mugged and someone takes your wallet? How much are you willing to lose in a given theft-event? Does it even matter, since a potential thief probably knows that you've got cash hidden in your socks and in secret pockets sewn into your pants as well as in the usual places like a wallet or back pocket? It's a real challenge.
But it's infinitely harder to deal with if you LIVE in a cash-only economy. If we get mugged we basically need to figure out a way to call home and have someone wire us more cash. Or get a credit card company to give us an advance against a new number. If you live in a cash economy then your life savings are hidden in empty tomato tins and buried in old beer bottles. And if you get robbed it's not just an annoyance but an existential crisis.
So the market has responded. We bought a very cheap cellphone and plugged in a local SIM card. (Becca can send along our Ugandan phone number if anyone wants to call!!). And, sure enough, one of the options on the phone is "Banking," which basically turns your cellphone number into a bank account and allows you to transmit payments, store savings, and withdraw cash as necessary. We've only been in Uganda a couple of hours so I have yet to see the system in action, but the idea of it is pretty compelling.
03 May 2010 - Johannesburg
Its Wednesday early afternoon here and I am typing this from the Johannesburg Airport - We are waiting for our flight to Entebbe Uganda and I finally have the internat connection needed to write in this puppy!
The brief so far: We arrived in Joburg on Monday early morning - After a grueling red eye to JFK where we were met by a slew of disgrunted TSA employees (they are somewhat pardoned in retrospect, given that they may have helped apprehend the Time Square car bomber later that day, but why do they have to be so mean to poor sleepy people just trying to take a rest in their empty terminals??). After a layover of several hours we got on the giant South African Airlines flight and were ever so luck in our seating - we had a center aisle with 4 seats to ourselves which was just short of heaven! So three movies, some shut eye, and a lot of eavesdropping on our neighbors later - (I couldn't help myself, the dudes next to us were these American southerners who were whooping it up about the elephants and lions they were going to shoot and take home.. They literally drank like 12 beers each on the 14 hour flight. It was amazing.) - we arrived in Joburg!
We picked up our Europcar rental and then the fun began... The Joburg highways are a lot like LA's - giant and crowded, with the main difference being that all of the drivers sitting on the wrong side of the vehicle and the road. I have rarely ridden in a vehicle driving on the left side of the road and never in the front seat of one - Although Scott is an excellent driver and I am so ever thankful that he is driving (for now, my turn will come), this is a highly disturbing experience the first time you do it.. And we were doing it very very tired, at rush hour, in the rain.. Anyhow, we amazingly got to Jessy and Tim's house in northwestern Joburg (without a map, props to Scott's sense of direction and inexplicable memory of the city from 6 years ago) without a hitch.
My impressions of Joburg initally - Airport is awesome, really nice with many, many well dressed employees asking if you need help. City is a lot like LA, sprawling, with a small downtown of towers, and the majoy streets are pretty much walled off, with all the development behind, making for a pretty unpleasant walking experience..
Back to the action, we arrived at Jessy and Tim's place (gated, like a lot of nice places, a 3-story apartment/condo place) and were so impressed, 2 bedroom/2 bath with a great living room and kitchen as well as a patio. We rested a bit, went to the nearby mall which looked just like a big American mall for food, then Jessy and Tim got home from work. We had a great catch up session, then we went out to dinner in a neighborhood called Park Hurst where we had excellent italian food.
Ok, Scott is telling me this is too much detail! So I am going to wrap up Day 1 and promise that subsequent posts will be quicker and punchier..! Thanks for reading this far!
- Becca (posting from Scott's account)
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