It is Thursday, July 19, and I am going to go on my first real field trip. Admittedly, I am a bit nervous, but luckily, we actually manage to leave the house almost on time. When we arrive at the office, Richard is not there yet himself. He is part of the WASH team of SNV and going to Rubavu for evaluation of the activities there. This is a good opportunity for me and the other JADF intern Fernanda to go to that district as well to conduct interviews regarding JADF performance. On the way back we will pass Musanze, another district, where we can talk to even more people.
While I wait at the office, Fernanda is waiting at the bus station where she arrives every morning from Byumba. Richard arrives, but before leaving Kigali we have to go to the bank to get money for this field mission. Sometimes there are problems with the acceptance of the check and indeed, we have to wait quite a long while. I am glad I am not in Fernanda’s position but in the car with Richard. We talk about coffee, language skills and basketball. He used to play basketball in the national team and is now in the committee which is organising a match this Sunday. Finally, much later than expected, we pick up Fernanda at the station. The car is full now. There is the driver, Richard, another WASH intern Josef, Fernanda and me. I sit in the middle and look out of the windscreen.
As everywhere in Rwanda, the road consists of countless bends along the hills. We follow the road towards Musanze, which is a good tarmac road. Many people are walking at the side of the road, carrying things on their heads or pushing wheelbarrows. Bicycles are used to transport people as well as sacks of grain, bananas and water canisters. Sometimes they are pushed, if the slope is too steep. One cyclist holds on to a truck and lets himself be pulled. This might work well when the road is ascending, but for sloping parts it might be a bit dangerous, I think. If no bicycle is available, the yellow water canisters are carried on the head or the back. Women and kids queue at streams or pumps to collect water to bring to their sometimes far-away homes. Young girls use a long piece of cloth tied to the canister as a strap. They put it around their front, bend forward and walk like that, the canister resting on their back. In the rural areas, herds of goats are driven along the road or single ones, sometimes cows, are led on a leash. All the hills are being cultivated, from the top to the bottom. They use terracing here to prevent the rain of washing down the soil.
I recognise Buse, the junction where we turned right on our way to Burera, but this time we continue on the good road. As we continue, the morning clouds don’t disperse. The sky is white. In Musanze, the driver leaves us to do some own business and Richard takes his seat while I take his. I like sitting in the front. Now and then, Richard comments on some things we see or sometimes do not see. He points out volcanoes in the distance which are now unfortunately not visible at all. Behind the next row of hills, there is nothing but greyish whiteness. We are approaching the volcanic region on the border to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Apparently, one of those volcanoes is still active and when it is dark, you can see the orange glow around the top. Now of course, we don’t see anything. This, though, is typical for the region. We are currently crossing a district called Nyabihu, which means fog. The colour of the ground changes as well. It is now more grey then red, sometimes sparkling in the sun, due to the volcanic soil. More and more people walk in lines on the side of the road. This is the most densely populated area in Rwanda. We are close to the DRC. Old and new refugees have settled in the region, adding to the big population. We pass a transition camp, where refugees find shelter before being moved to different camps. I recognise the blue UNICEF logo on white tents and cars.
A bus coming in the opposite direction flashes its light repeatedly. Richard gives signs with his hand. They are asking how far the next check point of the police is. The police is strict on speed limits here and the drivers help each other avoiding fines. They do the same in Italy, too, Fernanda says. However, as everyone seems to use different signs, I don’t see how effective this is. Now, did it mean the police is far or should we pay attention? We pass extensive fields where tea is grown. Here and there, buildings are being constructed. They are usually supported by unstable-looking wooden constructions, but most building sites are full with workers. At one point, the road is being covered with fresh tarmac as we pass. A big number of men using something like rakes is working simultaneously on distributing the hot asphalt evenly on the street, directly being shovelled from under a tarp on a truck. If that is how they usually do it, the result looks really good.
We are so close to the DRC now, that we even receive their radio programme. Gysenyi in Rubavu is directly on the border to DRC. We arrive there and look across Lake Kivu to Goma, a town in the DRC. Richard also shows us the border. It is indicated by a small blue sign ‘border’ and two police men, but apart from that the houses just continue on both sides without any differences. Without the sign, it wouldn’t even be noticed as there are policemen stationed along the roads in towns quite frequently. Our hotel is just around a corner. It is a nice hotel, surrounded by many plants and flowers. Each of us has a small room with a bathroom. There are towels, mosquito nets and TV. We just leave our bags here and continue. While Josef is being introduced to someone, Fernanda and I walk along the beach of Lake Kivu. It is a public beach, boys are swimming in the water, some are washing, some are just playing. On the beach itself and under the trees sit more people, reading or just resting. Soon we are joined by the others again to get some lunch. The restaurant we go to is a quiet place. They have a buffet for their guests and here, for the first time in Rwanda, I eat plantain again. The banana they usually use for cooking is different, but this is real plantain as I know it from Ghana. I tastes exactly as I remember it.
After lunch, we have an appointment with the JADF permanent secretary at the district office. He receives us, Richard introduces Fernanda and me and we have a long interview. He doesn’t speak much English, but Fernanda is fluent in French and Richard helps from time to time as well. We are a bit under time pressure. While Richard stays with the Permanent Secretary for evaluation activities, the two of us meet the Vice Mayor of Rubavu. He is even more busy and we focus on key questions only, but at least he takes some time for us and makes an effort to speak English. After that, we accompany the evaluation team to a project site. Off the main road, we follow a small path on foot, along a wall built with the volcanic rocks they have en masse. We pass a group of men chopping wood - only one is working with an axe, the rest is watching - and continue through the rests of a field of sugar cane until we arrive at bee hives. There we meet a woman dressed in protective clothing. Another man who came with us also changed to this clothing and explains something about the project here. He is talking in Kinyarwanda, but another member of the evaluation team translates for me that the traditional hives produce 5 kg whereas the modern ones produce 60 kg of honey - in what time span, I don’t know. One of the bees flies to the head of one of the men and has to be removed by the guy in protective clothes, but the bees are not the only concern. On the ground, I see really big ants with the known potential of painful biting. Luckily, they are not interested in our feet. From here, we can see across the green valley with some houses with silver corrugated iron reefs, reflecting the light of the slowly setting sun. After a while the talking about the bee hives is finished and with that, the evaluation is finished as well. We make our way back through the field to our cars. We pass a ruin of a stone wall and one man takes a picture of it. This was his family house before the genocide.
At the moment it is just Richard, Fernanda and me because Josef is having his own appointments and Richard decides to show us a bit more of Gysenyi before it gets dark. Instead of heading towards the border, we take a left turn and drive along the shore of the lake. Outside in the water we can see a platform where methane is extracted from the lake. On the coast are the breweries for the local beers. Eventually, we arrive at a guesthouse and bar directly at the lake and stop for a drink. The buildings are perched on the hill, covered by flowers and bushes. On the lawn next to the water, between some palm trees, tables under sunshades invite guests to take a rest. For some minutes, before it gets really dark, we enjoy the view across the lake. There are some islands and a few fisher boats. We can hear their rhythmic songs supporting the coordination of the joint rowing.
Back at the hotel, we meet Josef, the driver and another SNV colleague who has come to the district on other issues. Fernanda and I organise our notes of the meeting, bringing together what we wrote in English, French and Italian until it is time for dinner. The menu is a bit confusing and I don’t want to spend much time going through the list, so I rely on Richard’s suggestions. He is a regular guest here as he works closely with this district. They already know what he likes and I think he also has a special spot where he always sits. It is a place in one corner, with the back to the wall, not central, but with a view on the TV that is showing a French movie and later news. I eat chips and small breaded fish, Fernanda has a salad and ‘brochette de poisson’, while Richard is served a big, complete fish, a bowl of soup and something like Fufu. Both Fernanda and me try, but we don’t manage to eat it properly with our hands on the first go.
The next morning is an early start again. It looks as it if rained, but in fact it is only the humidity of the lake that made the soil become wet. For breakfast, we get toast, omelette and fruits and immediately when we are finished, we get into the car and drive off to Musanze for the next round of appointments. Again the sky is cloudy and we don’t see the rows of volcanoes. Musanze is one of the bigger towns in Rwanda and is spread wide across valleys, but we stay in the central area only, where the district office is. I see many land cruisers with the logo of international NGOs driving through the streets. At the district office, we meet another SNV car. It is Beatrice and other colleagues on a field trip to Burera. They took a detour through Musanze.
This time, we are not that lucky for our interviews. Although the JADF permanent secretary here agreed to meet us, he is not around. He will return in the afternoon, but that is too late for us. Instead, we can meet the vice mayor who has his office in a dark corridor. Unfortunately, he is quite busy, too, but he offers to fill our questionnaire later and send it back to us electronically. He also promises to help us meet more people concerned with JADF when we come next time. This is not what we had hoped for, but better than nothing and we can’t change anything about it now. All that is left to do is therefore waiting for Josef, who again has discussions with another officer at a different office. Instead of waiting at that office the whole time, the driver and Richard take us to the market in Musanze, where they also buy vegetables and potatoes to take to Kigali. It is cheaper here because these things are grown mainly in this area. Fernanda and I use the opportunity to stroll through the market - isoko - ourselves. It is a big square surrounded by a wall. Some products are sold by vendors along the wall, but more crowded are the stalls in the shadows beneath the roof in the middle. Here they sell fruits, vegetables, rice and all other kinds of agricultural products. There also is a section where they sell plastic stuffs and cloth. I want to take pictures of everything. This organised jumble of colours is beautiful and I haven’t seen a market like this in Kigali. However, I know that some don’t like pictures and cameras, so I try to be discrete and take overview shots only. A pity.
While the men have their purchases carried to the car, Fernanda talks to a man with a shop just outside the market. Natural medicine is sold here. Richard says that he is suspicious of these guys and I must agree with him.
When we don’t want to wait anymore, Richard goes to get Josef and postpone the rest of his discussion to a later date. It is almost noon now, the time when Richard had planned to be back already because he has other appointments in the afternoon. At a junction not far from Musanze we stop and the driver gets off to buy something. When we hear that it is cheese, we join him. The lady in the tiny shop doesn’t have enough for all of us, but goes to get some more. At the junction there also is a bus station which is very crowded at the moment. They are all students going home for vacation.
Back on the road, the time passes slowly and I look outside without really seeing the scenery we pass. The only thing I notice are the blue trucks coming in the opposite direction, leaving behind them a stinky black cloud of exhaust gases. Halfway between Musanze and Kigali is a spot where private cars and buses often stop. They sell the local fastfood, maybe the only one available. It is grilled brochettes, giant grilled potatoes, grilled corncobs and eggs. We get our lunch here, but eat it in the car, not willing to stop for a long time. When everyone has finished, the driver stops at the side of the road and throws the paper bags and plastic bottles into the bush. That really surprises me, although of course I don’t say anything but only exchange a look with Fernanda. Is this not a car full of educated people, with at least one person who has worked on topics concerning water and hygiene for many years?
In the afternoon, we arrive back in Kigali. The office is almost empty as on fridays, everyone leaves early, but I wait for Beatrice who has not come back from her field trip, to go home together.
