It’s Just like Riding a ….. Motorbike

It’s All in the Milk

I boarded the plane in Calgary on Saturday and prepared myself for a long, long journey after the long, long goodbye. Thanks to my friend, Gravol, I was able to sleep before arriving in London. Thanks to Wade, I was able to sleep again at Heathrow because of an Air Canada pass into the London Lounge. Free internet and free food and a place to put up my feet. At about 7:30 in the evening, I made my way to Gate 3 and remembered doing this 8 months ago when I was first coming to Africa. I remember looking everywhere for a girl named “Christine” who’s picture I had been sent. We’d be travelling to Rwanda together. I remember boarding the plane being terrified and excited and then I remember seeing how little room there was between the seats and wondering how I would ever catch a rest. This time, I scored three empty seats across the middle and, after dinner, gather ALL the pillows and blankets from said three seats and rested up for the flight to Nairobi. I awoke to the banging of the table tray in front of me being brought down, hitting my knee, with my breakfast. I woke a little bit homesick and still wondering if I was up for another four months. The sunrise was coming up over the Indian Ocean and there, in the distance, was Mount Kenya and once again the sky of bright orange was broken by a band of cloud and revealed a deep blue on the other side. It was the same thing I saw when I first got here. Okay…maybe I can do this. Of course, the “I’m ready for Africa” moment really came when I was brought coffee. I took a sugar packet and asked him for milk. He held out the tray again. I said, “You don’t have milk?” “Yes. Here!” he said again. I stared at the tray and, failing to see the packet of powered milk, wondered what he was talking about. “Here,” he said giving me the jug of…real milk. Yup, I’m ready to be back!

Anna’s Suitcase Overnights in Nairobi

The Nairobi-Kigali flight was late leaving and some ex-pat in the bulk head refused to put his bag in the overhead compartment which, after arguing with the attendants, led us to being another 15 minutes late. The plane touched down in the pouring rain and so we were all corralled into a waiting bus. No mini-bus taxi thankfully. I came through customs fast and waited for my luggage. Again, remembering arriving with Christine and Portia and tired and groggy and not sure what we were getting ourselves into. As I waited, I got a call from Karen who was at the VSO office nearby. We chatted for a bit. I continued to wait for my bag and I always get a pit in my stomach as I wait. I always think that my luggage will be lost. Call it fatalistic but I tend to sweat and my heart rate increases until I actually see it coming round the carousel. Still no bag and I get a call again from Karen and she’s saying “Anna! Smile!” and I turn and see her on the other side of security. She came all the way from Gitarama to meet me!! “You looked stressed,” she said and I explained that I still didn’t have my luggage. Of course, I wasn’t worried as long as there were others waiting and the carousel was still running. Then it stopped. My suitcase, as it turns out, never made it to the plane because it was already full when it left Nairobi. “Oh, don’t worry, “ the lovely KGL rep says to me. “It will come in at about 3am on the next flight.”

Under a Mosquito Net Once Again

Still raining, Karen and I treated ourselves to a proper taxi into town. In my lack of sleep, jet lagged, 36 hours of travelling, mind, we shared our latest journeys: mine to Canada and her’s to Tanzania. Into UTC so I could buy electricity and bread and then Karen and I parted ways and I caught a bus to Kibungo on my own. I tried to stay awake for the journey but at one point, was jolted awake but someone opening the window. Had I fallen asleep sitting up? Yes, I must have. The men around got a great laugh as the cold air hit my face and my eyes shot open with surprise. I stayed awake for the rest of the way home. When my bus arrived at Kibungo, I was greeted by yet another friendly face – Patrick! Big hugs all around and he offered me a ride home. I stopped to see Consollee for samosas and she – after getting over the shock of seeing what I can only imagine she thought was a ghost – hugged me an didn’t let go until, I’m sure, she decided I was real. I finally arrived back to Chez Anna in the dark and yes, I was out of electricity. So, I dropped my bag , punched in the numbers and VOILA! There was light. I looked around and thought “This is it?” I didn’t remember the peeling paint, the dirt on the walls, the spider webs, the low wattage light bulbs that dangle from each room. This was my home? Yes, it was….. I did manage a shower in the freezing water and had some toast before collapsing under my mosquito net.

Beer and Brochettes

Tuesday morning I enjoyed a long Rwandan coffee and then called Kenyan Airways to find out that yes, my baggage arrived. So, back on the bus to Kigali and off at VSO for more “hellos” and “welcome backs.” Bosco was nice enough to drive me to pick up my suitcase and then to the bus stop at Remera. I left my bag while I sat and waited and – since this was a new bus stop for me - waited until the friendly Sotra staff came to get me. Of course, when the bus did arrive it was full. With some minor adjusting of some boxes at the back, we managed to get a seat for me and then with some more maneouvering, which one might consider magic, we fit in my 50 lbs suitcase in the stair well. Each time someone wanted to get off, though, the poor man sitting in front of my had to lift it up. I arrived and collapsed on my bed for another nap. I woke to a storm and a leaky window and river on my floor. Sigh. I guess I’ll have to use that duct tape I brought to fix it up. Christine and her friend Elise came for a visit that night and we went for beer and brochettes. The next morning we had a leisurely toast, peanut butter and fruit salad breakfast while we waited for the rain to clear so the girls could go back home.

I’m now thinking back and wondering if I ever left? How did I slip back into life here so easily? I realized that it has become part of who I am. The fabric of me. Like they say, it’s just like riding a bike. A motorbike, that is.