The First Day

3 January 2010

Rwanda entry: 1

It was a long flight. And by long, I don’t mean to say that I slept the whole time and was just a little jet-lagged. I mean it was excruciatingly long. The first leg, from Chicago to Brussels, we flew American. When people make jokes about airline food, they’re right. I just couldn’t bring myself to eat much of whatever it was that the airline was attempting to simulate. Coconut cake I think it was. I also failed to understand why children movies are chosen for those flights. Who wants to watch a movie about a magical rock and sloppy depictions of childhood fantasy? I couldn’t sleep either. The unforgiving surfaces and inadequate pillows were a thorough disappointment for my ass.

But we finally got to Brussels. Stella Artois, real Stella Artois, was the best thing about the trip. Nevermind that it was technically 9 o’clock in the morning. It was 1 o’clock my time. Stella has been my beer in the States for a while now, and drinking Belgian beer in Belgium was amazing, and it was even better than I had imagined. Moreover it was my saving grace in my quest for sleep on the second leg from Brussels to Kigali. Brussels airlines had better food- excellent curried chicken with a raw salmon pasta salad. I sat next to a Belgian woman who worked for Lawyers without Borders. We talked over lunch about my research and her work in Rwanda. I was quite envious her life, traveling the world, advocating human rights and the rule of law. Not to mention that she had access to Stella Artois on a daily basis, which she referred to as “Not even the best one.”

When we arrived in Kigali, I was thoroughly exhausted. Exiting the plane, the smell of Africa consumed us. The balmy air was a relief from the freezing temperatures of Chicago and Brussels. The terminal was filled and chaotic, and it was an interesting first experience in Rwanda. I got my passport stamped and went to baggage claim, where the conveyor belt was densely surrounded by a variety of nationalities and cultures. Women in African dresses, and Brits in horn-rimmed glasses were pushing and shuving one another in an attempt to retrieve their belongings. Daniel had told us in Brussels that, while traveling, were had becoming de-territorialized. It was an attempt to explain why I couldn’t go outside and smoke, but it was true on other levels as well. Stepping out of the baggage claim through the crowds of family members and drivers with signs calling to their loved ones and employers, we became re-territorialized. Smoking reminded me of the first time. Dizzy from jet-lag and nicotine, we crammed our luggage into the small trunk of a grotesque Land Rover that was to take us to the Stipp Hotel, driven by Martin.

The roads in Kigali are an experience as well. Without signs or lines, the roadways are similarly crowded and chaotic. There were mopeds whirring, and cars with right-hand driver sides like in Britain, reminders of colonialism. Traffic moves slowly, and Martin had a sticker on the back of his Land Rover the said “Hakuna Matata.” There are no seat belts in the backseat, so frantically passing mopeds and slower drivers was unnerving. But the views outside of the car calmed me. People were everywhere. Small shops and abandoned building lined the road from the airport. Off to the right, the road drops off, and I could see the hills of Kigali spotted with the lights of a capital city, and it was beautiful. Through the winding and unlabeled streets, we arrived at the hotel, walls plastered with yellow stucco, and filled with pictures of President Kagame, decorated with fur rugs and hand-woven baskets. The darkness and delusion of travel prevented me from accurately interpreting the landscape. As a left the lobby from check-in, the bellhop led us to our room. The hotel is comprised of several villa-looking building, each having 3 or 4 rooms connected by an awning to protect guests from the rainy season. At first I thought I was walking into a Rainforest Café, filled with the sound of water falling and synthesized plant life. In a moment a realized that I was actually outdoors, and that this was real. A cool breeze drifted into the Oxford shirt I had been wearing under my sweater, and I could smell the dense scent of grass and wildflowers.

Our room was much more than I had expected, with a full shower and bath tub, a new television, and a switch board next to the bed that looked more like something out of Star Trek than something out of Africa. After literally throwing our bags into the room, we made our way to the restaurant and bar. I didn’t expect the meal to be a formal event, but when our waiter, Benjamin, poured my beer into a tulip glass placed on a white napkin, I realized that this was a classy affair. The funny part is that I was drinking a beer that was about 2 dollars. Granted, it was much better than the PBR that 2 dollars would typically get you. The meal was even more impressive. Our dishes came out covered with silver, and placed on a thoroughly well thought out placement of flatware. After dinner, we went back to our rooms. I sat down on the firmest bed that I have felt in my experience with beds, turned on the X-files, and fell deep asleep. It was a comfort to know that I had finally made it to Rwanda, that I was finally in country, and that my ambitions were being made real.

We woke up around 9 to go to breakfast. Everything was different in the light of day. Out my window I had a view of the city through the lush forestation that surrounds the hotel. The air outside was thick, but the cool breeze felt amazing. We ate in the dining room that overlooks the open air bar and pool. I ate some type of spicy sausage, some tough pork, delicious potatoes, a mango, some pain au chocolat, passion fruit juice, and café au lait. It was a great start to the beautiful day that I have had.

I am now sitting at the edge of the pool, under a brightly colored umbrella. My team and I are planning the rest of our stay as I write this. Today is our day to relax I suppose. It’s a Sunday, so there’s not much we could do anyway. Sending follow-up emails and getting our appointments organized was never so relaxing. I feel more like I’m on vacation than I feel that I’m on a research trip. The sky is partly cloudy, and it’s about 75 degrees. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m surrounded by tall plant life swaying in the wind. It’s odd to imagine the painful history of Rwanda in such a setting. It’s interesting to think about the issues that confront this nation as I sit in such comfort. The next 2 weeks, as well as the following 6 months will make these things more apparent to me. But now, I choose to enjoy, I choose to relax. I never imagined that Rwanda would be this way, I don’t think many people do. Let me just say, it’s way better than Florida.