Climate – it’s hot and humid, but not as bad as I’d feared. Think Hawaii, more than anything. Well, Hawaii without the ocean breeze, without the cleansing rain. Hawaii with a constant smell of smoke in the air and a layer of haze that just never leaves that’s made of fog, smoke, dust, and who knows what.
Security – while there are police and soldiers everywhere (all packing the ubiquitous Kalashnikov) they seem quite benign for now. We went up today to the school that Prosper is building in the province of Cibitoke. The province is on the border of Congo. A year ago, another visitor said they had to pass many military checkpoints to get there. Leduc says that 3 months ago there was heavy fighting in that area and the road was to all intents and purposes closed. Today, the road is open to anyone willing to face the bonecrunching potholes.
Bugs – Again, not as bad as I’d feared. I’m usually a pretty tasty morsel for mosquitos, but I haven’t seen (or heard) them in throngs. We use mosquito nettings at night, but I think my hand presses up against it because I almost always wake up with a new mosquito bite or two on the back of my right hand. Maybe it’s the spider who lives in my closet who’s snacking on me nightly. If so, I’m glad to feed him if he’s keeping the mosquitos down.
Distances – are mostly small. The hotel Prosper has put us at is out of Bujumbura city center. It’s a nice place near the edge of Lake Tanganyika. It’s simple, but (to me anyway) completely adequate. It’s maybe 5 or 10 minutes to Prosper’s office downtown, and maybe 10 or 15 minutes from there to Carama. Maybe 15-20 minutes to the airport.
Roads – are abominable. Really really bad. The main roads through Bujumbura have sections where the tarmac is completely worn away and you bump and jolt your way along like a carnival ride. Peculiarly, while the cars travel on the right, like in the US, the steering is also on the right, like in England. This is a really stupid idea, because the driver is on the curb side rather than the center side of the car. In the constant weaving in and out, passing trucks, slower cars, potholes, pedestrians, or whatever, the driver has a worse view of oncoming traffic than the person riding shotgun. This can make riding shotgun a harrowing experience. Whenever I ride shotgun I try to maintain a peaceful acceptance. The speeds are generally not high, and accidents are probably not usually fatal, and the driver must know what he’s doing. Right? That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I’m actually more concerned for the bicyclists and pedestrians that we pass with what seems like millimeters to spare, it’s amazing that we don’t see carnage of bicycle riders and pedestrians who were too slow everywhere. When Wes rides shotgun he jokes and makes a girlish “AAHHH!” when we make what seems to be a close call. It’s usually pretty funny but it can be a bit distracting to my otherwise zen-like calm.
Language – French will really take you a long way here. Lots of people, especially in Bujumbura, speak French. In the countryside, French is less helpful. It’s easy to pick up a smattering of Kirundi (Hello, thank you, peace) that will get you in peoples’ general good graces, although maybe they’re just laughing at the stupid white guy. Kiswahili is also used a bit – particularly the word “musungu” which is a semi-pejorative term for “white man.”
