Transit, Pt. II

(Commuting, Cont.)

Pt. II - Taxis
The vast majority of commuters here, in any main town, use local 'taxis'. These are not taxis as we know them, but are typically small, filthy Indian 12-passenger vans that run set routes with stops. There are hardly ever fewer than 15 or 16 (up to 18) people crammed into each taxi. They zoom along between people, honking and warning them to get out of the way. The 'stops' are the real adventure. There is no such thing as a 'stop' really. When one of the drop-off points comes along, the driver slows down to a roll, you throw the side door open and jump out. You hit the ground running or you fall down. Sometimes, when a person needs off in between points, he just jumps out unannounced - as long as the taxi slows to somewhere below 25(ish) mph... Getting on these things takes a little more practice. Unfortunately you can't afford to mess the first attempt up either. Since they don't stop all the way, you jog alongside the open door and wait for everyone to jump out who needs to, then you grab onto the handle above the door, swing yourself in, and off you go. As a result of my first attempt, my new water bottle is somewhere on a highway in Kenya.

In the cities, they do have taxis as we think of them also.

Pt. III - The Bus
Here is the best part. I've taken a passenger bus twice to other parts of Rwanda. The system of minibuses here is very efficient, and they are much cleaner than the van taxis. Typically, several buses leave each day for the other main destinations in the country. It is easy to get around, and inexpensive. A 2-hr commute to Kigali (the capital) costs about three dollars. As with every other mode of public transport, the buses are very crowded. There are 20 actual seats, but my last ride was with 26 other people. On either side of me, I had a young mother breastfeeding her baby. I just stared straight ahead, content for once not to be able to communicate.

Sidebar - The scenery here is breathtakingly gorgeous; I feel that pictures even cheat the experience. As far as you can see, there are volcanic hills, usually terraced with crops and falling off to jungle valleys. There are more shades of green than I've ever seen. The hills are impossibly steep, as are the roads winding around them. It is truly a testament to the beauty of this place that one even notices, given the chaos of the moment that is ongoing..

Imagine a wide minibus with hesitant brakes hurtling around these mountainous roads (Mikey - think 15-passenger van at Darlington). The roadway that connects Kigali with Musanze District (where I'm working now, and the country's primary gathering place for adventuring tourists) would barely suffice as an average Wabash County road. It is no wider. When two buses or trucks meet, they each swerve off their respective sides, without slowing, to avoid swiping each other. There are innumerable potholes and chunks of asphalt missing, and there are many stretches where the pavement has washed out to gravel and mud after the rainy season. This is a testament to Chinese international aid (in contrast, the German roads in other directions are pristine). Again, forget slowing down. Drivers bear down on these missing patches and simply aim for the spot that looks smoothest. We hit them and hop several inches out of our seats. During my last ride, I had an odd sense of 'Final Destination' and looked up to notice our driver with his eyes shut for about three seconds. I yelled to him 'Wake up!' - or what I think means 'wake up', or possibly just a jumbled expletive - and a few other people snapped to. At the end of the drive, I had to pry both my white hands loose from the 'Oh Shit' handle in front of me. Another routine trip.

peace & love.