The long journey to Kisoro

We finally took off 50 minutes after scheduled departure time and started our journey towards Africa with Kenya Airways.

Tara and I were travelling together as far as Nairobi and then parting. I would travel to Kigali and Tara would continue to Bujumbura.

The food arrived shortly after our delayed take off as the stewardesses rushed to get lights out and induce that shortened night and day cycle.

The dinner was a tasty chicken or lamb curry followed by a fruit crumble, leading promptly into on-flight entertainment. This consisted of the standard on-demand long haul film, tv and radio and the ability to track your flight. Airshow Inc. was the supplier of the on screen maps/flight times and ETA...I know this because every 3 minutes for 8 hours it crashed, displayed ugly green hexadecimal debug code then embarrasingly rebooted to the promising Airshow Inc splash screen only to once again dash your hopes...lets hope the flight computer is in a better mood...

Around 10.30pm lights dimmed to simulate night with only the home video from a laptop on aisle 3 breaking the silence. When we'd twisted and turned into every conceivable sleeping position, with complimentary blankets and pillows softening buckles and hard plastic arm rests, our simulated sun rose to the sound of continental breakfast preparations. It was now 2.30am London time so the interruption wasn't welcomed.

We cleaned up with a hot towel delivered by forcep and landed at Nairobi at 3.50am London time (6.50am local).

We had an hour before boarding so headed for gate 3 as instructed. It was a reminder of India in some ways as we walked through an early morning Nairobi airport, lots of bazaars and men leaning or sitting either side of the walkways staring at the Muzungu as they neatly created queues at gates and shop checkouts. After 15 minutes of pushing through we reached gate 3 - it read 'Lagos'. Apparently gate 5 was our one. More instructions from laid back staff and we headed for gate 5. That's Tara's gate, I'm supposed to be at gate 4 I'm told...but that's RwandAir not Kenya Airways...now I'm confused...finally I head back to gate 5 and it seems Tara and I are on the same flight. Tara is getting dropped off at Bujumbura and I'm waiting 45 minutes there, then continuing onto Kigali. A nice turn of events and we even managed to swap our seats to sit together.

After a short hour and a half flight we said our goodbyes and Tara departed to meet her hosts. I stayed onboard and tried to get some sleep before my further hours flight to Kigali.

By the time I landed my phone had changed its clock 3 times. Plus 3 hours for Nairobi then minus 1 hour for Bujumbura then plus one hour for Kigali...very confusing. We'd previously spoken to a lady in Nairobi in the queue who'd always brought spare clothes and essentials in hand luggage as she relayed many a story of lost possessions...so I waited with pessimism at baggage collection...

After happily collecting all my bags I waited outside Kigali airport, my first time in Rwanda. Amongst the hordes of drivers and businessmen in unfitted shiny grey suits I spied a hand made Coca Cola sign, quite different from the Rwanda I'd imagined. It was overcast but hot and within minutes I was greeted by Ezra (my host), his driver and another lady.
They made me feel very welcome and Dan our driver took my bags to an off road jeep. We left the car park and slipped the machine gun holding parking attendent a couple of notes...I'm guessing that's the parking meter.

We started our 4 hour drive towards the Ugandan border and I tried to take in as much of Rwanda as I could.
It seemed to be flourishing with building developments and mobile phone and motorbike advertising everywhere. The people were a mix of traditional and modern with suits passing loincloth and street side carpentry sitting beside Internet cafes. We drove on the right and although the roads were well made there was a complete lack of road signage. Roads were an equal mix of past and present with hardened horses not even blinking as we motored on by.

We drove for a further hour until the housing concentration dissipated to reveal spectacular vistas, high rolling hills, farms and a quieter way of life from the desperate economic growth of the city.
Dan was telling me about the road police and how his license was taken from him; he had to pay 50,000 shillings (around £15) to get it back. I think the conversation started due to the increased activity he'd noticed and before long we were pulled over.

Two young police officers approached us, the girl brandishing a rifle. The other approached the drivers side. I looked at the girl and smiled and she didn't smile back, only approached my passenger door and stared at me. I didn't look back round, instead stared at the scenary as if I'd just noticed it. Ten minutes of silence with the occasional broken sentance both ways and Dan got back in the car. We drove off, no mention of why we were stopped. I found out later it was customary to hand over a few notes if you're carrying Muzungu.

We finally reached the border and filled out our exit cards through a small concrete hole in the wall. Ezra then took me to the guard post and chatted to the soldiers, pointed at me, exchanged some banter and quietly said we should now walk across the border. The car would follow. Part 1 completed we headed for Ugandan security on foot, which turned out to be a hut with one chap sitting at a desk. He looked at me, checked my passport, asked some unrelated questions in pigeon English and then wrote his signature and a date on a small piece of ripped paper, finally pointing to another hut behind his...'Immigation'. This was manned by 2 men, one very old man and a chap with a stern look and a smirk. I passed the scrap of paper to verify I was OK, then filled in an entry card. He read it, asked me if I knew where Kisoro was and after some more intimidation asked for 50 dollars for the visa. I paid, recieved a stamp and after a further passport inspection for good measure got back in the car, which was now sheltering us from the pounding rain.

The final part of the journey consisted of unmade roads, torrents of rain (YouTube clip to come) and at 4pm, through the darkness making out the sign 'Potters Village'...I'd arrived at Kisoro.

Before meeting people, Ezra recommended I get unpacked and have some rest. At 7.30pm I met Jenny who directs the project here and another couple who had retired here. They welcomed me and we ate a traditional meal of beans, potato and rice, taking the edge off of the nerves. We talked about the project, concern at the world food program and many other issues facing them.

At 9pm the meal finished and I went back to my room. A stark lightbulb illuminated the concrete walls and floor and I climbed under the net.
Laying there I could hear Africa loud and clear as if someone were playing me a CD labelled 'Sound of Africa'. I was tired so falling asleep wasn't a problem.