Gisenyi

February 23-24, 2011

Hello readers! It’s now a few minutes past 7:00 PM in Rwanda and we just arrived back in the village from Gisenyi, which is on Lake Kivu in the northern province, near the gorillas. Before I give you the details of our adventure, let me share with you a sad piece of news I heard on Wednesday morning:

According to a message one of my roommates received, the Sudanese community in Arad has been deported. The gan has been locked for at least the past week and is apparently shut down; the Sudanese families are, according to this message, gone. Before I become outraged and upset, I tried to determine the extent to which this is true, and I found a Jerusalem Post article that claims that the Sudanese are leaving voluntarily and are looking forward to returning to South Sudan. However, other sources, as the article acknowledges, say that the Israeli government is forcing, or even bribing, the Sudanese community to leave. While the article refutes these claims and insists that this is an ongoing process to return the Sudanese to their homeland, the fact remains that one day the gan was open and the Sudanese community was doing relatively well in Arad, and the next, it was closed and they were gone. The abrupt nature of their departure makes voluntary return to South Sudan questionable. Would the entire Sudanese population really all get up and leave at once? Still, we aren’t sure exactly what did or did not happen, and if any Sudanese families are still living in Arad. Hopefully, they are still there and simply figuring out their status in Israel, or if they did return to Sudan, they did so by choice. To read the JPost article, follow this link: http://www.jpost.com/NationalNews/Article.aspx?id=209450. We are awaiting further information on the status of the Sudanese community in Arad, if anyone even knows where they are or what is actually happening.

In happier news, our trip to Gisenyi was wonderful. We left early Wednesday morning and drove north for several hours in our van (white metal rickshaw, really). Along the way, we stopped for lunch at a Rwandan restaurant and ate a delicious meal. Before getting to the hotel, we drove along the Rwanda/Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) border. The border is actually a stone wall and a small gate guarded by two Rwandan army officers. Due to the ongoing conflict in the DRC, we didn’t cross this “border” but instead drove on to the hotel. We finally arrived at the hotel, the Paradise, which is an adorable collection of wood and grass-thatched huts (furnished huts) connected by winding stone pathways, situated right on the lakefront. Lake Kivu is the only lake in Rwanda open for swimming. No sooner had we arrived and put our things in our guestrooms did the maître d’ come running outside with life vests, and an even skinnier (if this is even possible) Rwandan followed, running behind him, carrying a boat engine on his shoulder. We threw on bathing suits and got into the small wooden boat beached in front of the hotel. The smaller guy, who we later realized would be our captain, attached the motor to the boat and we went across the lake to the hot springs. There, we met the “mayor” of the hot springs, who is nearly 94 years old and has been there for over 60 years. These hot springs are so hot that if you were to drop a potato in one, it would take about twenty minutes to cook through.

After the hot springs, we piled back into the boat and went toward the middle of the lake where there is a small island, owned by the Paradise. We lounged around, soaked up some sun, and eventually got back in the boat to return to the hotel. It’s quite cool to take a boat to your hotel room, I must say. Dinner was awesome; the lake is home to tilapia (there are no other animals in the lake because of volcanic eruptions on the DRC side that make it impossible for anything but fish to survive in the water. This is part of what makes it okay for swimming) so we all had to order that for dinner (there were other options, but I’ve never had fresher fish in my life). Of course, as we were sitting down at our table, two traditional African dancers came running in, dressed as warriors, spears and shields and all. They were accompanied by drummers who chanted along to the beat set by the bells on the dancers’ ankles. Every few minutes, they would pull one of us up to dance with them; I attempted to pick up some of their moves, and I even requested wearing their ankle bells, but neither really happened (the latter was a definite no). Once we finished our tilapia, we had a small surprise activity. We were all given paper and pens and told to write letters to ourselves that we will receive in six months or a year from now. I don’t know exactly where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing, but I do know that when I receive it, I will think of Rwanda, of the village and the kids, of my trip to see the gorillas, of Gisenyi and Akagera and Murambi and all the places I’ve visited, of my friends here and all the memories we’ve made. I know I will remember all these things, and I will smile.

I woke up this morning, without an alarm, at 7:00 to the sound of screaming. It was coming from the lake, as I would later find out. The fishermen, in their wooden fishing boats, were rowing out onto the lake to begin their workday. It was an awesome sight, if a bit early, but my body has adjusted to waking up at ungodly hours sans alarm. I can’t decide if this is such a good thing…

After a very nice breakfast (omelettes, crepes, fruit salad, toast and jam, and COFFEE!) I spent some time laying out on the lake front, trying to even out the color difference between my arms (they are very dark, I’m beginning to look less like a Muzungu!) and my legs, which don’t see the sun much since I usually wear pants here (women in Rwanda aren’t supposed to show their legs, so we don’t wear shorts around the village or when we’re out). By 11:00, we left the hotel and went to the Gisenyi outdoor market, where, of course, I found some beautiful African fabrics (I got to bargain in French) and hot sauce that is sold in eyedropper containers because you can only use one drop at a time, it’s that spicy. It’s also yellow-orange, which makes me nervous.

Once we finished shopping at the market, and finally persuaded the posse of school children following us that no, they could not get in the van (there’s barely room for us and our stuff) we drove toward Kigali, stopping along the way for pizza. As we were eating our lunch, it began to pour. Our driver, Bosco, explained to me that because of the mountains in that area, clouds are trapped and therefore it rains very hard every day there. At one point, it even began to hail! Rwandan driving is crazy without awful weather, so I truly am impressed by Bosco’s driving skills in the pouring rain, hail, thunder and lightning. Before returning to the village we stopped, one last time, at Nakumatt for any remaining items we may need for the next few days. I’m pretty sure the people who work there know us now, and are probably expecting us to return next week for more snack foods that don’t require refrigeration. Unfortunately, we won’t be back any time soon.

It’s hard to believe that we only have three full days left in the village. Tomorrow is our final morning at the work site and my final morning at the school, so I need to say goodbye to Aimable and Vincent and all of my students. We are also throwing a party for the workers, complete with pineapple. Afterwards is our last trip into Rubona for samosas, brochette skewers, six mangos for 100 francs and of course, passion fruit wine made by nuns. Over the weekend, I promised my girls I’d visit them, which I will, and at some point, unfortunately, I need to start packing my things, fabrics, hand-woven baskets and all, to return to Israel. I won’t get into how much I’m going to miss Rwanda and all that’s here right now, but be prepared, that post is coming soon.

All the best from a slightly tanner me,

Elana