Day Two: Kigali: “Let’s Go for Chinese".

Kigali, Rwanda – Day two, and still no bags. I spent a significant amount of time at the airport this morning, only to discover they had found their way to Entebbe, Uganda. They’re the adventurous sort of bag, it seems. Nobody can track them down definitively, but hopefully tomorrow. This is Africa.

I awoke to a cool and hazy morning after a few hours of being tormented by the air-raid siren of a mosquito buzzing around my head. I wasn’t sure if it was inside my mosquito net or not. It was gunning for me, though, I am sure.

Bright and early, the hotel’s cute little garden courtyard was feverishly swept by boys with small hand brooms constructed of bundled twigs. The rhythmic whisking was punctuated by the sharp staccato chirps of a variety of birds that danced in the trees outside my window. There would be no more sleep.

Breakfast consisted of fried eggs, done like an omelet, toast and a thermos of chai, as well as a side of mini bananas and passion fruit. We even had lunch at a Chinese restaurant – yes, we’re still in Rwanda – and it was, in fact, the best Chinese food I’ve had outside Asia. First, yesterday’s mansions, now really good Chinese food – I’m beginning to feel I’m not in Africa after all. In many ways, Kigali is a city like others around the world.

We also met up this afternoon with a Rwandan woman named Bernadette who lived for many years in London, Ontario and now runs a guest house in Kigali where she keeps two crested cranes that wander the property. We spent a bit of time talking about how London has changed and become a little more diverse, and about the University. It’s neat to come across someone with common acquaintances and experiences during travel.

This city is rife with motorcycles, including moto-taxis, and entrepreneurs roam the streets, hoping to sell you everything from newspapers to towels, to shoes. For being a large African city, it’s also very easy to feel safe. Of course, this is helped by the abundance of heavily-armed security guards and police.

Though English and French are becoming more common in Rwanda, I began to learn – and use – some Kinyarwanda today. I got some impressed laughs when I greeted everyone at breakfast with “muaramutse” (good morning) and have also mastered “murakose cyane” (thank you very much). I’ve also been working on “muramuke” (goodbye, in the evening) and “agachupa amazi aconje” (cold bottle of water). I know some other words from Kiswahili or French already, but I’m having a little trouble with how many words sound alike. It is, however, only day one.

The government’s move this past year to anglicize the country is a significant step it hopes will establish Rwanda for the future. Kiswahili is now also mandatory in schools. In the meantime, it’s easy to see challenges given that most of the country speaks Kinyarwanda, grew up in a French state – possibly with little education in the language – and now has to make the switch to English and Kiswahili, which is predominant in many parts of East Africa. There will no doubt be growing pains in the short term.

Unlike last year, however, I’ve only heard the catcall “muzungu” (white person) once, and that was from a couple of teenagers. Given the number of foreigners working in, and visiting, Kigali, I’m not so much of a novelty. And I’m appreciative of that.

Given my adventurous baggage, we’re going to stay in Kigali again tonight, this time at Le Printemps Hotel, which is another guest house, but a step up from last night. Tomorrow, we will leave regardless of my bag arriving as we have a retreat to attend in the south-west of the country. Ironically, by the time the retreat ends on Sunday, I will have been in Rwanda for nearly a week before having had a chance to visit my short-term home in Kitabi.