Hiking a volcano

It was so fun to be amongst trusted friends while traveling.  We spent 2 days in Gisenyi relaxing and taking in the lake.  The hotel we stayed at, Paradise Malahide, had its own immaculately groomed private island that we paddled the hotel’s boat out to.  We did some yoga, ate a picnic lunch and lounged.  That evening we tried to visit the Primus factory but they only take visitors on Thursdays and apparently arriving at 5pm on a Friday there was no way they could be persuaded to let us visit.  Instead we read the sign describing how methane gas is used and stopped by a local pub where we watched the fisherman and soldiers coming and going in their boats singing the way. 

Our next stop was Musanze, formally Ruhengeri, on an active Saturday.  At the arena on the church grounds we stayed at there was a biking competition and at the town’s arena there was the Rwandan version of American Idol.  Upon being swarmed by children, we decided it was in our best interest not to wait for the performances.  We arranged a car to take us to the gorilla park headquarters for 6am the next day so we could hike Rwanda’s second largest volcano.  The instability around Goma prevented us from crossing over into the DRC to hike the volcano we wanted to there, but as I realized, physically this was probably a good thing.  I hadn’t read what the hike entailed nor had I prepared my body for the hike, but mind over matter, we all made it to the top.  Bisoke is 3711 meters high with a climb and decent in one day.  In comparison, when I climbed Kilimanjaro at 5896 meters, we took a 7 day path.  The climbing team surpassed my expectations although we ignorantly declined the service of a porter.  By porter, I mean not only to carry your bag, but also to hold your hand to pull you up the steep spots and prevent you sliding down the volcano like a mudslide.  Fortunately, one porter had tagged along anyhow and the 3 gun toting yet friendly guards were happy to help us less acclimated beings. 

Our guide Patrick was selected for his position out of 7000 applicants.   It had helped that he had received a scholarship with the Dian Fossey Foundation and wrote his dissertation at the Park on the domain protecting habits of female golden monkeys.  In this species, it is the females who guard the group.  Guides rotate their daily routes working 6 out of 7 days, 5 shorter hikes to the gorillas and 1 a volcano hike.  I couldn’t imagine how someone’s joints could hold up coming down the steep volcanoes, and he explained that guides over 40 kept to the shorter gorilla treks.  Patrick also said it took him about 5 months to get his body completely used to the terrain but that now he never feels tired.  We westerners were in awe of how the local team did not eat or drink throughout the nearly 11 hour day (although we arrived for 6am, the hike didn’t start until about 9:30).  I spoke the most with one guard named Samuel, once I accepted that I needed help in the rough patches, and we discovered we both spoke Swahili.  He said he had always wanted to speak with foreigners but this was the first time he met one who spoke one of his languages.  There are buffalo, elephant, and other forest animals in the park, so 3 guards is the optimal number to frighten away any risk.  It was explained that they would not shoot the animals, only the air.  Unfortunately we didn’t run into any, just the buffalo chips left behind.  Samuel and I talked about traveling, languages, music, race, work, and families.  My assumption had been that the same military guards oversee the Park and were used to the hike, but I was wrong.  The military rotate where they are stationed throughout the country and it is a hard life. 

The views were amazing as we were climbing up and the plant life varied at different elevations.  After an attack of prickly bushes, there were soothing milk plants, followed by the moss slung over trees which was my favorite, and then orchids.  When we finally got to the top, I just wanted to sit down and eat our packed lunch.  It was misty just like you would imagine from Gorillas in the Mist and there was a crater lake.  Patrick asked one of the guards to run (he literally ran, don’t ask me how) down and back up the steep hill to the lake to fill up a bottle of water so we could see how cold the water was to explain why they don’t allow swimming.  The only people he ever let swim were a pair of Marines who signed that they would not hold anyone responsible if there was a negative outcome. That night we took it easy, enjoyed our Primus, large plates of food, and the European football games at the church compound’s bar. 

My friends took off the next morning and I am once again flying solo.  It’s hard transitioning from constant engaging conversation to being more introspective, but it’s great for productivity and meeting new people.  I’m now staying in Kigali at a place called One Love.  The grounds here are large, woodsy and well kept, but there are very few people- great during the day, a little creepy at night.  I was lucky to secure the only room with “completely hot water” as opposed to other rooms with not completely hot water.  There’s even a bathtub and my favorite, a raised western toilet.  It almost reminds me of my beloved throne of a squat toilet from my TZ village days.  Nothing like stepping up and feeling regal when you have to relieve yourself. 

I went to Lalibela an Ethiopian restaurant for dinner and received a massive plate of vegetarian yumminess.  One of the workers, Rasshimo sat with me and we shared experiences.  He is a teacher by training but pursues other income activities because a teacher’s salary is meager and inconstant.  Teachers earn about $120 a month, but after taking out health insurance comes to $90, then another $30 gone for housing leaving about $60 for food and other things. Rwanda is actually pretty expensive with food prices approaching those of a frugal person in the US.  Like in Tanzania, he said teachers will receive a salary for 2 months, but then will not be paid, or be delayed in payment for a few months.  He walked me back to my hotel since I did not know the way in these hills.  Guards are all over the city and we even witnessed some picking up sex workers to take them to jail.  When I said that the men seeking sex workers should be the ones taken to jail, Rasshimo laughed heartily.  We had an interesting conversation about this, clearly seeing things in a different way, but open to hearing another view.  Earlier he had said that I should work in Rwanda because it was safe and I joked that maybe I would come back and start a program for jailing or educating ‘johns’.  Actually, if any of my brilliant friends know anything about the supply and demand of prostitution, I would love a crash course!