Rwanda

“Mzungu! Muzungu! Mzungu!” or, “White people!” “White people!” “White people!”

We must have heard that hundreds of times over the last 5 days as we explored the hills, forests, fishing villages and farms of Western Rwanda on (our own version of) The Congo Nile Bike Trail.

Children of all ages, youths, people working in the fields and fishermen have all been shouting “Mzungu!” and then racing to the bike trail to see what hard work we have been making of traversing their land. Usually, the answer has been sweating from every pore, panting like a steam train or just pushing bikes up the next section of impossible to ride road surface.

Despite our cycling inadequacies the trail has been an endless vista of luscious, seemingly inaccessible, verdant landscapes with hill after hill after hill of the most spectacular scenery either of us has ever seen. Our 300+ photos of the mountains above Lake Kivu will never do justice to what we have seen on this journey,

Every square inch of the Rwandan hills and mountains is farmed for commercial crops like tea, coffee and rice and are also the farms for the self sustaining home produce such as cassava, yam, mangoes, sugar cane, bananas and avocados (a local obsession that is served with every meal), to name just a few.

When we first came across the Congo Nile Trail in April last year, the description of 5 days cycling along Lake Kivu doing 40-50kms a day seemed like a doddle - despite the new hip and new knee. The prospect of meandering along the shores on the lake was enticing, as was the idea of cycling under the mountain ridge that separates the Congo and Nile basins (hence the name of the trail). This seemed like an ideal start to our around the world trip.

However, if there had been any small print about the effort required, the actual terrain, or the actual track surfaces, we would almost certainly not have booked this adventure.

It was hard. Very hard.

The trail has almost no flat sections - you are either going up or you are going down and the sheer steepness of both meant that we spent most of the trail in either 1st gear or squeezing brakes to halt terrifying descents (or very often on day 1, pushing our mountain bikes). Bone shaking, knee trembling, limb aching stuff. All of it.

The ‘trail surfaces’ were either mud, sand, gravel, bare rock, grass, loose stones or red grit. Irrespective of the surface, the trails have been rutted, clinging over sheer slopes, full of hidden dips and loose rocks. Some parts of the trail have been washed away (we crossed 3 streams on foot) and in one long detour, we had our bikes carried down and back up through the jungle to rejoin a section of trail that had been washed away.

Having said all of that, we both feel that we have now seen Africa (or at least a very small part of it) in the raw. The villages that are everywhere along the trail are home to thousands and thousands of Rwandans who have never left their hillsides. Transport is limited to motorbikes or bikes that, as we saw on our way over here from Kigali, carry every kind of produce and material imaginable including doors, mattresses and filing cabinets.

Every village kind of looked the same - low built mud brick properties lined the ‘street’, with commerce being conducted roadside and the all pervading wood smoke clouding the air. At the same time, every Rwandan village/district has schools for children from 5 to 16, a health centre, a voluntary village chief and a set of village rules displayed as you enter.

Even in these places high up in the hills, litter doesn’t exist. There is no homelessness. If you need a house the government in all its guises will provide one - and give you some money to live.

The organisation of a society that, 31 years ago was ripped apart by genocide, now means that nobody is identified by tribe, money or religion. Everyone is first and foremost, a Rwandan. A lesson for other troubled lands today?

As we passed through the villages, we saw families dressed for church, members of choirs in multi coloured matching outfits, fake designer clothing, kids wearing almost threads, hundreds of children in school uniforms and all sorts of traditional dress. Usually, the women would also be carrying something on their heads too.

One of the most entertaining group of women we met were having a Sunday lunchtime ‘sesh’ on Banana Beer in a hidden room behind the store we had stopped at. Having invited us in to say hello, we were very quickly dancing and swaying with them amongst massive amounts of, presumably, piss taking and laughter. Great fun.

That engagement with the local people happened time and time again. Despite our frequent breathlessness, we had to reply ‘Hello’ or ‘Good Morning’ to the hundreds of children that shouted the same words at us all day, every day.

The guys that run the trail have explained and educated the people along the route that tourists and Mzungu are good for Rwandan society. We spend money in their country that gets recycled back to villages as animals, community projects and infrastructure. It sounds a bit idealistic but we saw this in action,

We took a slightly different route on Day 4 and passed a drying station for a rice cooperative. Our guide, Marcel, spent a few minutes explaining what we were doing on our bikes to 30 to 40 people working there. As we started saying hello to the children, the workers gathered round us to stare and shake hands. Within minutes we were part of a dancing, singing throng that raised smile, after smile, after smile. A quick rendition of ‘Oggy, Oggy, Oggy’ from us finished most of them off!

A once in a lifetime experience for us but for Mzungu that follow us, the welcome will be just as warm.

Something similar happened shortly afterwards when we stopped at a group harvesting the rice. This involved whacking a pile of cut rice stalks with long wooden handles in unison to remove the rice husks. Naturally, we wanted a go and hilarity at our efforts was rewarded for one guy with a cuddle from Carole. This was followed by a discussion about the merits/demerits of Arsenal Football club. (Side note here - Arsenal’s sponsorship of Visit Rwanda has produced a legion of East African support).

Given the heat, altitude and nature of the terrain, we needed plenty of sustenance on the trial and this was provided in local cafes or home stays. Ridiculous amounts of food have been presented to the 3 of us - which Marcel seemed to relish but for us was far too much. It seems that all Rwandan dishes are over sized. Maybe the volume of fresh fruit, vegetables and fish produced here makes this a demonstration of national pride?

Coming off the trail to our overnight accommodation involved a couple of boat trips on Lake Kivu itself. These were the only times we got anywhere near cycling alongside the lake but the sense of personal achievement/exhaustion/ avoidance of injury at the end of the day’s cycling made those journeys delightful.

A coffee station, a tree house and 2 nights in a faded glory 1980’s hotel on the lake shore provided hot showers, dinner and breakfast each day. At the first stop we met fellow cyclists who were much more serious than us. Their end of trail days certainly did not end up with a boat ride to their digs! Tales of the Trail were swapped of course which added to the huge enjoyment of the trip.

Yes, despite how hard we found the physical effort, massive amounts of enjoyment and fun have been the main themes of The Congo Nile Trail. The struggle, the pain, the derrière discomfort, the dirt, the fear, the aching body parts have also provided huge amounts of fun and thrills.

Our other theme this week has been incredulity. Incredulity at the beauty and drama of the landscapes and the people that build their lives here.

We are so lucky to have experienced all of this with Marcel our guide and Yannick from Lava Bikes providing transport.

Topping this may take some doing but up next we have a jungle canopy walk in Nyungwe National Forest and then into Uganda for a week to see some big fluffy monkeys and hopefully, some cute pussy cats.

Here are a few of our favourite pics and a couple of videos. Czytaj więcej