Weekend at Rachel’s by Lake Burera
on Geri Skeen (Rwanda), 06/Jul/2011 04:08, 34 days ago
Rachel is a volunteer who lives in the North of Rwanda, near Lake Burera and in sight of volcanoes– yes, the same volcanoes in which the gorillas live. Rachel and I keep cancelling arrangements for me to come up to her place for the weekend, usually because it’s pouring with rain up there and a walk would be out of the question and the moto (motorbike taxi) ride is too daunting in the wet. But finally last weekend I made it. The moto ride was pretty daunting even in perfect weather for a novice like me who’s never travelled on dirt roads by motorbike before. When I looked round though the views were stunning. Tea plantations a vivid green covered the valley bottoms. A patchwork of tiny fields and terraces reached right to the summits of the steep hillsides. Mud brick houses with their tiled roofs were dotted here and there, even far up the high hillsides. We passed through occasional groves of Eucalyptus; passed children with loads of firewood on their heads; men pushing bicycles to which were strapped improbably large loads; women wearing brightly patterned wraps walking home from their fields with their hoe across their shoulder or a wicker basket of sweet potatoes on their head, and a baby tied to their back. I smelt fragrant Eucalyptus wood smoke from cooking fires.Rachel’s house is in the district capital, which must consist of all of a hundred houses, a few shops that don’t sell a great deal, the district office, an army barracks and a genocide prison. From her porch you look out across the valley on which is a football pitch. Rachel cooked me a delicious dhal and we ate chocolate I’d brought from Kigali. It was so peaceful listening to the evening sounds.Next day we walked to the lake, unintentionally picking up at least twenty children en route. It was a bit like the Pied Piper; each time we walked through a hamlet, more children joined us. After two hours we arrived at a spit of land jutting out into the lake. The views were magnificent, across the lake with its deep inlets, the lakesides hill after green hill. We sat down, long having given up any hope of solitude, and the children, plus a few teenagers, sat down all round us.We asked them to sing a song and one of the teenage girls led a song in Kinyarwanda.Then we sang one in English.Then it was their turn.Some of the songs were familiar to us all including Kumbayah and, bizarrely, London’s Burning.When we finally decided to turn for home, the children dropped off in threes and fours as we passed near their homes.The teenage girls shook hands with us and wished us Urugero Rwiza– a good journey – and we marvelled at how teenagers without even shoes on their feet were so polite and such good company.Back home for guacamole, more chocolate, a couple of beers and The Young Victoria on Rachel’s laptop.