Transportation

In Rwanda traveling is a skill that one must develop quickly. Even the best travelers risk the occasional regurgitation/mystery liquid on the face, loose chicken on the legs or creepy handholding from an old man. But those in tune to the rhythms of the engine and with a Rwandan momma ability to push through crowds without a care about the people around them will go far, figuratively speaking of course, even the best of the best will wait hours for no discernible reason.

Baby-back

The preferred method of all Rwanda children and the occasional PCV. Rwandan women carry their children tied to their backs with igitenge (fabric). They always sit like they’re trying to get into a deep squatting position. Usually the child’s face is squished against the mom’s back:

a)      with a dazed and confused look on its face

b)      crying nonsensically

c)      frightened when it sees a muzungu

d)     with crusted snot on its face

On hot days it’ll be covered with a white cloth tied around the mom’s neck like a cape while she sports an umbrella.

Moto

We aren’t allowed to ride these in Kigali (when we do ride them outside Kigali we’re required to use our PC approved helmets, mine is bright orange and was probably used by a Power Ranger). Because I live 15 minutes walking from the main road I don’t need one reach my site. I do occasionally visit friends who require the use of one though. Unfortunately it’s never just a quick 5 minute ride; it’s usually 30 minutes to an hour. Moto drivers like to race sometimes, weave in and out of traffic and drive as physically close to pedestrians as possible when passing them. They also like to text and make phone calls while driving. I’m not sure what it is about Rwandans but they only like to multitask when it seems most inconvenient to other people. My first trips on them were quite terrifying and I clung on hard enough to turn my knuckles white. Now, I’ll also text and call people, talk with the driver, cross my arms and admire the scenery. Occasionally we hit a bump and I:

a)      inadvertently thrust my groin into the driver’s butt

b)      go sailing backwards and awkwardly have to find my seating again (which usually involves one or two pelvic thrusts forward into the drivers butt)

Twegerani

Probably the most common form of transportation in Rwanda. These buses have a factory made seating capacity of 14 plus the driver and money collector. However, 18 plus the driver and money collector is the minimum number deemed acceptable enough to even consider moving towards the desired destination. To achieve 18 there are two options:

a)      wait for an ungodly amount of time (usually with the bus idling)

b)      drive around for an hour or more down the same stretch of road for passengers

Either way, consuming a huge quantity of gas seems to be a preferred method of attracting patrons. Once in the bus there’s a hierarchy of preferred seating. Up front is the crème de la crème. It’s always the last place to squeeze any extra people into as it’s the most difficult to fool the random police checks on the road. The row immediately behind the front is good space wise but then you risk melting the soles of your shoes because it gets super hot because of the engine or whatever resides in the bump there. This row also holds the danger of acquiring the highest amount of passengers to squeeze together, same with the row behind it, as they are close to the door. The back two rows are ok except for spacing. Those with limbs be wary. They’re not usually squished as badly but there’s less room for wiggling in general. However, all squeeze buses generally like to live up to their name. I’ve been in one that had 32 people. That’s people. Then you get into the following.

Said people usually carry things, things like chickens, dried fish, babies (who breastfeed en route), and body odor. The close proximity to people makes moving in any direction a far off reality that can only be reached when your stop comes, at which point people shuffle around but never really move and expect you to casually mosey on out of the bus. It’s a delicate ballet dance that takes several failed attempts to learn your footing.

Rwandans also don’t like to keep windows open when the vehicles are in motion. Learning to hold your breath or breathe only through your mouth is a required part of the act.

Rwandans also don’t have the stomach for twisty, windy roads. This fact is highlighted whenever you travel in Rwanda, which is known as the Land of a Thousand Hills, and you get to experience every single one of them every time you travel. They’ll vomit into anything except plastic bags (which are illegal). Preferred choices are:

a)      their hands

b)      their lap

c)      their handbags (if they’re women)

d)     not through the window

  

Walking

It’s widely believed that if a person has money that walking is then beneath them. As a white, this assumption is extended to me as well because, let’s be honest here, all whites are clearly rich as shit. It’s unfathomable that a person of my complexion isn’t rich and would debase himself by putting one leg in front of the other and repeating with the opposite leg until reaching an unspecified destination only to turn around and return home. Spending time on a leisurely stroll through the hills isn’t something many people can afford here and when they have the time they can’t understand why someone would do something that they have to do everyday simply because it’s relaxing. Relaxation generally takes the form of banana beer. It’s maybe why they never seem relaxed to me. That stuff makes motor oil taste like a piña colada.

Buses

These follow the same general rules as a twegerani but with a dash moto. Squeeze buses generally run between shorter distances while these larger buses are more long distance travelers. The seats are moderately more comfortable and less sardinesinacan-esque but that’s voided by the fact that the drivers are usually more reckless. The drivers are almost always on the phone, they barrel down the road causing one’s heart to workout more than a marathon runner, and they often times have one passenger who likes to emphatically recite the word of God to the other passengers. The bus companies that travel to my region of Rwanda are the only ones who have assigned seating, which makes getting a ticket quite nice. You know where you’ll be sitting, know exactly what time you’ll be leaving and you don’t have to fight those pesky old mommas for a seat. Seat #1 is in the front and is quite possibly the best in the whole bus. It means a maximum of one person could sit next to you but as it’s a jumper seat sans leg room a lot of times it’s unoccupied. This then means no one sleeps on your shoulder, no intrigued stares from a baby feeding from its mom’s boob, no vomiting on the face. And you control the window. It’s as close as one could get to heaven in Rwanda.

Taxi Voiture

My region is unique in this respect. We have taxis that cruise down the road looking for passengers, which I’m fairly sure no other region has, outside Kigali of course. It’s a little more expensive than twegeranis but you’re paying to ride in a car so it’s worth it, sometimes. Without stopping it should take like 45 minutes to go from my site to Kamembe, I’ve had a taxi take nearly two hours. They like to cram at least four people in the back seat, sometimes five, occasionally six. Add to the fact that the taxis look like low riders because they cram the trunks so full of materials being transported that any bump we encounter is like watching a bomb be diffused, wondering if this is the end or not. The vomiting is generally kept to a minimum on these but the breast feeding and body odor are maintained for posterity’s sake.