The Motor Cycle Diaries

I was on top of the world today, not euphorically, although I was certainly happy, but more geographically and physically. The route to the school I had to visit today was as far off the beaten track as I have been since arriving in Rwanda. In fact, so few motor bikes had ever gone down the tracks that the goats and cows leapt and bucked in fear as we passed, tugging at the ropes around their ankles in panic. Women in their fields froze, tools held paralysed by their side at the sight of the muzungu on the bike. Yousef, my motor cycle driver, and myself tackled all manner of terrain and turf, him holding the bike steady as we navigated log bridges with huge gaping holes in and puddles of sticky mud, me holding firmly to the back of the bike to top myself sliding into him and catapulting us both head first down the rock strewn, pot holed hills. The bike began making strange noises as it panted and groaned it’s way up unimaginably steep and rutted slopes. I’m sure it was my weight on the back causing the bike to complain. It seemed on many occasions that a gear even lower than first would have been helpful. At one point I made an executive decision and got off the bike to walk up a hill that looked like it would cause some kind of bike failure should I stay on, and another time, Yousef himself, ever the optimist, pointedly stopped for me to disembark at a particularly ominous looking log bridge that offered great potential for wet and painful accidents.

We climbed so high at the beginning the land began to plateau and the valleys and hills lay below us in great undulations of green. It was like the Long Mynd on stilts and with extra colouring in. Breathtakingly beautiful and remote. The air felt so clear and the smells were fresh and real – fragrant wood smoke, earth, greenery – but as always when you go up, one has to go down. Every ten minutes or so Yousef would call out to a pass-by, whilst not slowing his speed remotely to receive a full answer, for directions to Mugano, the school we were attempting to reach. Each time the response was the same; hand movements in the general direction we were heading (there WERE no other paths!) with implications of distance. By the fourth person we asked the message became clear – it is a very very long way in the direction you are heading. We both laughed though we had no language in common other than the shared experience of the journey. It’s amazing how much understanding can be achieved without a common language.

But incredibly we arrived at the school with no mishaps and made the even longer return journey without incident, although I was walking a little like John Wayne after two and half hours of travel. The school’s I visit are so often so remote it’s a wonder the children have seen a white person at all, so it’s not surprising the attention I get, wanted or not.

Oh, and I baked upside down pineapple cake on the charcoal stove oven yesterday.

Now must stop procrastinating and have my much needed bucket shower. No it’s not cold water, but the water has to be boiled and put in flasks in preparation every few days and no amount of warm water will make a bucket shower in the chilly hills of Burera in our lovely (but cold) tiled bathroom enjoyable, or something to look forward to. So I’m going to have to brace myself. There are only so many fringe washes you can have before you finally have to concede defeat and wash the whole head of hair! Ughh, it’s no wonder hygiene is somewhat lacking here! MY hygiene is somewhat lacking here!!! My favourite most missed, most coveted thing .... hot running water. Since I’ve discovered UHT milk as a replacement for the powdered crap that passes for milk, a decent cup of tea is no longer on the list of most missed! Who would have thought, me singing the praises of UHT! Oh and apples. I crave apples. Right, off to shower.