I know two words in Swahili, very little French, and absolutely no Kinyarwanda. My driver, Emanuel, knew next to no English. Together, we made the perfect match. For three hours we sat side by side, windows down, Kenny Rogers blaring. And no, that last part was not my choice, although I kind of enjoyed it. It’s hard not to crack a smile when the legend is on.
While the trip along windy rounds was lovely, I found myself feeling rather dejected once alone. Within minutes of exiting the car, I discovered that I’m nowhere near my intended destination. Along Lake Kivu, yes, but 95 kilometers South. I’m in Kibuye when I need to be in Gisenyi. Maybe it was the “y” at the end — your guess is as good as mine.
At this point, the need to get off the roadside with my gigantic pack was obvious. Having recently passed a sign for a Catholic run guesthouse, perched high up on a hill, I opted to have a look… And boy am I glad I did. The view was dream-like and better than anything I could have hoped for. Even though getting to the border in the morning was a pressing matter, it took a backseat while I dropped off my things and took in the scenery, while enjoying a cold beer.
Transportation in Africa is a tricky. You’ll hear ten different things, about a dozen prices, and almost none of them are accurate. Patience (and persistence) is the name of the game. I started with the receptionist, but she laughed in my face – quite literally – when I explained my situation and stressed my need to reach the border by 10am.
Bus? I was told it leaves at 7:30am, arriving at 4pm. Ferry? Doesn’t run on Saturday’s. Taxi? Approximately $285. Huh? What? Who? No way. I then pressed further and was told there are many buses, some of which arrive early. Oh, and after a few phone calls, I was told I could hire a boat for the tune of $1,000 – sounds like a steal. And as if that wasn’t enough, I was suddenly told it’s simply not possible to leave. At all. Until next week.
Feeling a little panicked, and rather frustrated, I walked into town to see if I could piece something together myself. Once arriving at the center, I was surrounded by at least twenty men, all trying to offer their services. Again, when I mentioned the words “Gisenyi” and “tomorrow” I was met with laughter. What was so funny, I still don’t know.
Eventually I was tapped on the shoulder by a nice young man speaking perfect English and a sweet demeanor – help at last! He suggested I go to the bus station to speak to the manager, so I hopped on the back of his bike and went for a ride. Unfortunately, the route is lengthy and the stops are frequent, so that was officially off the table. Thankfully, he had another idea, though. A friend from his church has an AWD vehicle – which is a must on these roads – and occasionally acts as a driver, if the price is right.
So, with one option left, we rode to his house, interrupted his nap, and started negotiations. After twenty minutes of drawing in the dirt, we had a deal. 100,000 Francs ($130) in exchange for four hours in a 4×4. Let the pocket draining begin.
