Collected Emails No 2.

Collected Emails No 2.

Feburay 8th, 2004: Greetings from Burundi

Sorry for the lack of communication, except with those of you who have been sending me direct emails and questions. I have not felt much like sitting in internet cafes, writing, when there is so much outside to discover. Here is an update culled together from a few personal emails sent over the last couple of weeks. My trip was going to move south from Tanzania to cape Town, but most of my movement so far has been north- and westwards!

While on the beach in Zanzibar, I met and became friends with the team of prosecutors from the military part of the Rwanda Tribunal in Arusha. I became interested in the subject, and in the apparent futility of spending 10 years and 100 million dollars to try and put the perpetrators of the genocide in a comfortable prison. When I was in Arusha for Safaris, etc. -- by the way, I did not cimb Kilimanjaro in the end; it was too expensive at $700, and I did not feel passionate enough about the challenge -- I ended up prolonging my visit to watch the tribunal when it opened on the 19th of January.

I was very lucky to be there for the most important week of all, the witness-box being occupied by UN General Dalliere, who wrote the book, "Shake Hands with the Devil," about his experiences with Colonel Bagosora, the apparent architect of the Genocide, and the main defendant in the tribunal. Both of these men were present in the court as I sat and watched the proceedings for a week. It was really fascinating.

Then I realized that in Zanzibar, I also had met an Italian woman living and working in Kigali, responsible for Justice and Human rights in Rwanda for the EEC. So I decided to extend my trip and make a detour to Uganda and Rwanda, and possibly Congo, if they think it is safe enough, to visit some more friends in Uvira, aid workers for Action Contre La Faim, whom I met on Zanzibar, before continuing south towards Malawi, Zambia, Namibia and finally Cape Town.

The trip to Kampala, Uganda, was a fifteen hour bus ride from Nairobi, the biggest city in East Africa, where I went hoping to get my iPod repaired at the Apple dealership, but it is completely dead, with all my photos are stuck on it, till I get back to the USA.

Chatting to the driver, he said he has been doing that trip, both ways, every day for the last six years. He makes $125 per month. He has a family, but only sees them for a few hours every few days before he sets off again. He's
a funny and happy man. He's also a clumsy man, he opened a bottle of Fanta using the window frame, and sprayed fifteen passengers with Fanta.... then later last night, it was getting cold as we ascended into the mountains by the border, he tried to force the sliding window even more closed, and shattered the glass, so the cold air billowed in and we froze until a cardboard replacement could be made at the next town.

I stayed in Kampala for a few days, where I met some really nice travellers, and went white water rafting on the Nile river, at the source, by Lake Victoria. The river is incredibly powerful, and several times we were all ejected from the boat and held underwater for what seemed like ages. On the way to southern Uganda, my bus passed a recent accident, with body parts of 13 dead scattered all over the road. It was horrible and shocking to see the physical effects of a head on collision between a car and bus. Everyone was shaken by the sight, with the African men laughing nervously, and the women sobbing and wailing. An hour later, our bus caught up to a competitor going to the same place, and began racing. Often the busses were next to each other, neck and neck on a one lane road, hurtling thought the countryside, up hills and around corners, at 70 mph. This is when I shifted from observer to participant, and climbed forward to the driver, and reminded him of the carnage we had just seen, and demanded that he slow down and let the other bus go ahead. He was surprised, and obviously had not made the mental connection between the bus accident, and the likely consequences of his driving style. In the south, I went to Lake Bunyoni, which is a beautiful relaxed place to spend a couple of days recovering from the trip, swimming in the lake, hiking in the hills, and paddling in a dug-out canoe.

From Southern Uganda, it was a comparatively short bus trip across the border to Rwanda, with three hours to Kigali, where it was really interesting to be staying in a private house for the first time on the trip, and meeting so many of the ex-pat, governmental, and NGO residents there. Very interesting to get a view of their lives. Some people were interesting, many were not, like everywhere else.
The first night, we went to a dinner party for a group of 13 Latin American women, and I was the only man and the only gringo! It was a wonderfully international evening in many languages.
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