Jet Settin to Rwanda

In mid-February, I received a text from a family friend living in South Africa: “Considering taking a family trip to Rwanda in March. Interested in joining?” Though excited about the incredible opportunity, as a nearly broke Peace Corps volunteer, I knew it would be impossible. “Thanks so much for the invitation,” I wrote back half-heartedly. “That sounds amazing! But unfortunately I’m not sure if I can afford a trip like that right now.” Minutes later, this disappointment turned into extreme joy when I received another text saying, “Don’t worry about cost. We can cover everything after you get down to Yaoundé. You just would be responsible for Visa and getting down to Yaoundé.” So that was it! I was going to Rwanda!

            Fast-forward to a little less than a month later, after a stressful few weeks of obtaining permission from my bosses, renewing my Cameroon visas, and researching getting a Rwanda visa, I found myself stepping out of the cab at the Yaoundé airport one sunny March mid-morning. Armed with my excessively large suitcase and horror stories of the airport, I stepped foot into NSI with my best “don’t mess with me” face. To my surprise, everything in the airport went fairly smoothly… until I went through security. Back in the United States, I was used to flying every 3-4 months, and would consider myself a seasoned traveler. However, after 6 months of strictly road and train travel, I found myself forgetting some of the most basic principles of air travel. A moment of panic struck me as a TSA agent held up my canvas tote bag, asking me to step aside so he could review its contents. As I begin to wonder what had made the alarm go off, I suddenly realized—I had completely forgotten to take my trusty Leatherman pocket knife out of bag! Not wanting him to think I was trying to sneak the knife in, I quickly blurted, “Oh I forgot to take out—,” “This?” the guard gruffly interrupted, holding up my empty water bottle. “No,” I replied sheepishly, “my pocket knife.”

            The man shook his head, pulled out my pocketknife, and asked me slowly, “You do know this is illegal to bring on a plane, right?” I quickly assured him I knew the rules, and had just completely forgotten it was in there. When he informed me he would have to confiscate my knife, I asked if it would be possible to leave it at the airport and then pick it up again when I came back from my trip. Staring at me in disbelief, the man replied, “Madame, you’re lucky I’m just confiscating this—I should detain you for having this knife. Do you really want to cause more trouble?” At this point, I decided to cut my losses (no pun intended), and continue on through security.

            Finally, after waiting at the sole terminal for a few hours, my flight to Nairobi, Kenya took off. After a several hour layover in the Nairobi airport—during which I got a little too drunk on alcoholic apple juice and watched Clueless for the first time—I hopped on my flight to Kigali. Around 1am, my plane landed in Kigali, and I was immediately led to customs and immigration where I paid $30 for an immediate visa. After making it through customs and baggage claim, I stepped out into the chilly Kigali night, where I was immediately greeted by the tour guide my group had organized. The guide, named Gaston, excitedly welcomed me to Kigali, and helped me put my things into his giant, army-grade Jeep. We then hopped in the car and drove for around 30 minutes through the city to get to the hotel. On the way, I was shocked by the perfectly paved roads, clean sidewalks, and street lamps—in Cameroon, only 30% of the roads are paved, and are often very dirty due to poor waste management systems. Throughout our journey, I asked Gaston about himself and his family, and excitedly pointed out to him the Peace Corps Rwanda office as we passed by.

            Upon arrival at the Flame Tree Village hotel, I was greeted by friendly staff who assisted me in bringing my things to my room. There I slept comfortably—on a real mattress! —in an air-conditioned room until the next morning. The next morning, I grabbed breakfast at the hotel, where I met a sweet young man named John, a member of the staff who offered to show me the rooftop view of the whole city. I excitedly followed, and was immediately stunned by the breathtaking views. While I listened to John’s stories about his life and his family, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have the opportunity to see all of this beautiful city laid out before me.

My stunning view of the city

            That afternoon, Gaston picked me up from the hotel, and we headed off to the airport together to pick up the Sommer family, my fairy godparents for this trip. After excited greetings and hugs, we all hopped into the car to head to a local lunch spot with delicious buffet-style foods. After lunch, we got back in the car and began our 3-hour journey to Kinigi/Ruhengeri, a large village in the northern mountain regions of the country. After 3 hours of gorgeous mountain views, we arrived at the Mountain Gorilla View Lodge, our hotel stationed at the foothills of Volcanoes National Park. That night, we walked around the hotel grounds, had a delicious dinner, chatted over local beers, and rested in our cozy beds to prepare for an exciting next day.

Amanda (left), me, and Haley (right) on the hotel grounds

Celebrating friends and beer!

            The next morning, we woke up at 5:30am to get to the hotel breakfast by 6. After wolfing down a hearty breakfast, we set off on our first major adventure—Mountain Gorilla trekking! After a 15-minute drive to the headquarters of Volcanoes National Park, we enjoyed coffee while watching a local cultural dance group as we waited for our guides to receive the name of the gorilla “family” we had been assigned to. After a bit of waiting, we learned that we had been assigned to the Sabyinyo family, named after the mountain that our hotel happened to be stationed on. We then met up with the other family of three that was a part of our group, along with our head rangers to learn about our family and the mountain gorillas in general. Here we learned that sadly, there are only around 650 mountain gorillas remaining in their natural habitats in Rwanda, Uganda and Congo. In Rwanda, they can be found in the Virunga Mountains, a chain of volcanoes with altitudinal ranges of 3500-4507m. We also learned that our family, the Sabyinyo group, is a family of 10 gorillas, led by the biggest Silverback known in the entire jungle called Guhonda. We also learned that the oldest known Silverback, at the age of 46 years old, was a member of our family.

These dancers kept us entertained at the base of the mountains while we waited for our family assignments

            After learning about our family and being informed of the rules and practices regarding interacting with the gorillas, we drove to the foot of the mountain and swiftly began our hike. Our hike turned out to be a reasonable, fairly easy trek lasting about an hour, with only slight inclines and well-kept forests. Through all the excitement, I hardly noticed the number of times I sank ankle deep into some soaking, cold mud puddles! After our leisurely trek, we suddenly found ourselves in a small clearing, surrounded by a number of gorillas. At this point, I was awestruck—I’ve always been fascinated by gorillas and monkeys, but had never seen gorillas up close before. So naturally, upon finally seeing these beautiful creatures, I could barely move or speak. Once I finally regained my composure, I began observing them in their natural habitat. Amazingly, they seemed completely unconcerned or uninterested by our presence. They just kept on about what they were doing—scratching themselves, eating, nursing their babies, farting… It was incredible to see how truly people-like they really were! My favorite part was watching the babies play with one another, and then scurry back into their mothers’ arms when they had had enough. My heart almost melted as I watched a baby finish being breastfeed by its mother, only to then snuggle into the crook of its mother’s arm for a quick post-meal nap. Finally, after awhile, the giant Silverback came flouncing in, and the group dynamic changed a bit. Every gorilla for the most part stayed out of his way, though would still interact with him as with all the others. After an hour of observations, pictures, and silently praying a baby would approach me and hug my leg, it was time to leave the gorillas in peace.

This Silverback is the biggest known in the whole jungle

This sweet lil baby was all about lounging on mama's back

Mid-breastfeed glare

This little baby was also really into snuggling

Sneakin into their family photo.. hopefully I make it onto the holiday card next year!

            Later that afternoon, after another delicious meal, we took a leisurely countryside drive through the mountains to get a gorgeous view of the twin lakes of Burera and Ruhondo. Like the lakes at the base of Mt. Cameroon, I was fascinated to learn that these were also crater lakes, created by a long-ago volcanic eruption. Here, we took a brief stroll, some pictures, and enjoyed a beautiful sunset over the mountains as we sipped on soft drinks at the Virunga Lodge. That night following another delicious dinner, we sprawled out by the fire and rested up to prepare for another big day ahead.

The first of the twin lakes...

...and the second

            The next morning, we awoke early once again to grab breakfast before heading back to the Volcanoes National Park headquarters for our Golden Monkey trek. After coffee and entertainment while waiting once again, we split up into groups of around 20 people to meet with our head rangers to learn about the monkeys. Here, we learned that the Golden Monkeys are recorded as an endangered species, and can be found in the high height jungles of the Volcanoes National Park. In the park, there are two separate families of around 80-100 members each. The family we were assigned to can be found at the base of Mt. Sabyinyo.

            Following our information session, we set out on our trek. After about an hour of hiking, we finally found our cute little primate friends! They were a little more difficult to spot, as they hid amongst leaves and hopped from tree to tree, and there was no clear spot for them to hang out in. But, they were entertaining to watch as they bounced around the forest, munching on leaves and grass. They certainly weren’t afraid of us at all, as they would run right by us on the ground or come face to face with us in order to find more food to snack on. Sometimes, you would be startled to hear a loud rustling overhead, as a monkey would jump onto a flimsy branch just inches from your head! They were so cute and funny with their chubby little cheeks and red eyes, and seemed to mostly be focused on eating—a species after my own heart. Most of them were fairly small, though there was one larger male that we were convinced would snap a branch in two if he tried to jump onto it. We also saw a few babies being carried on their mothers’ backs, cuddling on for dear life as their mothers flew effortlessly through the air.

The giant smile on my face was caused by monkey tail touching my face, by the way

            After our magical hour with the monkeys, we trekked back to the mountain base, and then back to our hotel. Here, we had lunch and packed up, before hopping in the car for another scenic drive back to Kigali. During our drive back, we talked about our plans for the next day. At the mention of our visit to the Genocide Museum, the mother of my group asked Gaston if he wouldn’t mind explaining the genocide from his point of view, and if he had any stories about it he wanted to share. Thankfully, Gaston was well prepared for this question, and explained in great detail the events and emotions leading up to the genocide, as well as what happened in the aftermath and how the country’s people had moved forward following the traumatic events. That led to a discussion about colonialism, and how colonizers are basically at fault for almost every conflict and issue around the world today. It was a great discussion, and Gaston seemed really eager to talk from personal experience, which was greatly appreciated—especially since it is certainly not his job to teach us about something we should already be well informed of.

            Following a good night’s sleep at the Flame Tree Village again, we woke up the next morning for breakfast and to prepare for the day. After eating, we headed off to the Gisozi Genocide Museum, a museum dedicated to explaining the origins and aftermath of the genocide in Rwanda, as well as informing visitors of other genocides that have happened or are still occurring. The museum was beautifully put together, and showed in great detail—at least, in my opinion—the experiences of several individuals who survived the genocide. It sought to explain the genocide as it impacted the nation as a whole, as well as people on an individual level. It reminded me a lot of the Holocaust Museum in DC, which I had visited when I was 11. Both museums examined genocide from both a macro and micro level, and seemed to subtly examine the human conscience and the strength of marginalized peoples. Though I could have spent all day exploring the museum and learning about the genocide, we had to leave at some point in order to give the family I was with enough time to pack and get to the airport. However, as we left, I purchased a program detailing every exhibit in the museum, as a way to take it all home with me.

            On our way back to the hotel, we stopped by a local crafts market to do some shopping. Each vendor had their own tiny green building, in which they sold crafts handmade by themselves or by other local artisans, and all the buildings were attached in a semi-circle shape to give shoppers a variety of choices. Here, I bought a tote bag, jewelry, and handmade baskets for myself, as well as small gifts for my friends in village. After speed shopping our way through the market, we headed back to the hotel so the Sommers could prep to head home.

            After we said our goodbyes, and Gaston left to take the Sommers to the airport, I decided to walk around and do some exploring. Armed with a list of things to do and places to see given to me by my good friend’s girlfriend, a badass chick who worked at a woman’s association in Kigali, I headed out with full intention of wandering until I got lost. The first place I stopped was this adorable boutique called Haute Baso, an upscale clothing and accessories shop in the Nyarutarama neighborhood of Kigali. While here, I used the motto of “Treat Yo’self,” and bought a beautiful yellow tank dress and some stunning accessories. After awhile of shopping around, I checked the time to find it was already 5pm. Here I panicked a little, because I really wanted to check out the woman’s association that my friend had worked at, but I wasn’t sure if they were still open. I asked the sales staff at Haute Baso if they knew the place—called Tubahumurize—and how I could get there. I explained I didn’t have a Rwandan SIM card, so I couldn’t look up the information myself. Without hesitation, they kindly looked up the address and called the listed number for me. They then spoke with the son of the association’s founder, who said he wasn’t at the shop but that there was someone who could likely let me in and show me around if I went.

            After thanking the wonderful women at Haute Baso, I hopped on a moto for the 15-minute ride to Tubahumurize, which was located in the neighborhood next to the airport. When I arrived, I knocked on the huge iron gate, and was greeted by a guard. I tried to explain the situation, but because I didn’t speak the local language, and he didn’t understand my English, we both stood there for a moment wondering what to do. Luckily, he kindly let me in, and took me to the front door of the association, where I was greeted by their newest intern. Sweetheart that she was, she excitedly showed me around the grounds of the association and took me into the shop, despite the fact that they had already been closed for half an hour. As I browsed through tote bags and baskets, she explained the structure of the association to me. She explained that Tubahumurize was founded as an organization to allow female victims of relationship violence to learn vocational skills, get out of the home for a few hours every day, and earn some extra money to help them hopefully eventually become financially independent. She explained that she was actually brand new to the organization, but was already so happy there and loved its mission. She then asked me how I knew about the association, and I dropped my friend's girlfriend's name—which I’m so glad I did, because it turns out they’re mutual friends, and that she actually was the one who recommended the job to my new friend! Small world, huh?

The plaque outside the women's association

            While looking through the organization’s merchandise, the new intern and I kept chatting. It was amazing how much we had in common—we both were strongly passionate about intersectional feminism, and had both worked in the sector of support for survivors of gender-based violence. We were having an incredible conversation, so I wasn’t at all surprised when we checked the time and realized I had already been there for over an hour. At that point, I bought way too many things, and then we decided to continue our conversation over dinner. We agreed upon a dinner at Mr. Chips, a fast-food style restaurant that apparently had legendary fried chicken sandwiches. We then both hopped on a moto and were on our way to Mr. Chips.

            The adorable little restaurant certainly lived up to its name, and we found ourselves chowing down on crispy fried chicken sandwiches and fries while chatting about where development work can fall short, internalized misogyny, racialized violence, and other deep topics. The conversation continued just until 10pm, when I realized I had to get back to my hotel to pack and get ready to go to the airport. As we said our goodbyes, we both expressed how truly incredible it was that we had met each other, and promised to stay in touch and hopefully visit each other at some point before we leave our respective countries.

            That night, as I said my goodbyes to Gaston and passed seamlessly through security—no pocketknife drama this time—I reflected on my time in Rwanda. In many ways, it felt very different from Cameroon. As previously mentioned, most of the Rwanda that I saw had paved roads and clean sidewalks, while Cameroon is still working on improving its roads. However, there were more cultural differences between the two countries as well. For example, Cameroon is known for its incredible ethnic diversity—its population is a mixture of nearly 300 different ethnic groups, and it is a host to 239 different languages. People in Rwanda, on the other hand, mostly all speak the same language, and ethnicity is not something that is widely addressed and celebrated, due to the strong association between “ethnic separation” and the genocide. To me, Rwanda also felt more oriented to the tourist industry than Cameroon—though, to be fair, Cameroon is working to improve its tourism industry.

            Despite these differences, the major similarity I noticed was how friendly and welcoming the people were. As in Cameroon, I felt as though people were genuinely interested in engaging in conversation with me, whether it was about the weather or politics or our favorite foods. As I thought about this, though I was upset to leave Rwanda, I realized how excited I was to get back home to my tiny village and bucket baths, and all my friends there. As the plane took off, I began to drift off to sleep, full of happiness about my new friends and experiences, as well as excitement to get back to my couscous and beef diet.