Rafting the Nile

Disclaimer: This entry is being written as I'm well into my 4th Baileys and coffee, having already consumed 3 beers with dinner (I was joined for dinner by one of my mother's colleagues if that makes me any less of an alcoholic).  For the first time since I've been here, I don't have to wake up early in the morning, so I'm indulging myself as I prepare for a 12 day trip to Tanzania that ends with a 7 day summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro

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One of the beauties of the internet age is that keeping up with acquaintances is much easier.  While this can occasionally be a bad thing, it is for the most part a positive that allows for experiences like the one I'm about to describe.  Because of Facebook, I saw that my friend Tonya was going to be in Uganda at the exact same time I was going to be in Rwanda.  When I say my friend Tonya, I use the term loosely, because in truth, Tonya and I had only hung out once before, on St. Paddy's day in Madrid.  Nonetheless, it turned out she was going to be in Jinja, Uganda, which is also the hotbed for white water rafting in the area, an activity I'd never tried in my life and was eager to attempt.

Like myself, Tonya was looking for a fun day away from her volunteer work in Uganda, so she and I, along with her friend Theresa, agreed to meet up and go rafting last Wednesday.  It looked like it was going to be fairly easy for me to get to Jinja - a cheap 45 minute flight to Kampala, followed by a cheap 90 minute cab ride to Jinja.  Turns out things don't always go as expected.  The flight went smoothly, and I landed in Kampala at 6:45 PM, thinking I had plenty of time to meet Tonya in her hotel lobby at 8:30 PM as planned.

At 11:40 PM, I rolled into the hotel, having been delayed by: absurd rush hour traffic in the Kampala area, massive potholes, dirt roads, my cab driver who barely spoke English getting lost in the Jinja area and first taking me to the wrong hotel, said cab driver stopping for 25 minutes at a convenience store to have an 8-minute snack and do God-knows-what in the bathroom for 17 minutes.  The drive was also a frightening experience; it turns out that, when we weren't stopped for 20 minutes at a time in heavy rush hour traffic, everyone was driving 150km an hour on roads that look like they were built in the early 1980s, and making extremely aggressive (read: life-threatning) passes on a 2-lane highway.  When I arrived, Tonya laughed and informed me that automobile fatalities are the #1 cause of death for foreigners in Uganda.

In any event, I was happy to have survived the journey and at least arrived safely at the hotel.  I almost instantly passed out in my room, which at $20 a night was a steal.  I woke up at 7:30 AM and immediately called the rafting company to confirm the details, which was a good idea as they were having a hard time locating this hotel on a map.  We agreed that they'd pick us up at 9 AM and we'd head for the river right away.  Sure enough, a massive truck full of people arrived right on the nose at 9, and proceeded to whisk us away to the starting point of our adventure.

From the beginning, I got a great vibe from this company, one that is owned by foreigners but mostly employs local Ugandans to man their rescue kayaks, take company photography, drive the truck, etc.  We arrived at the site and were introduced to our guide for the day, a New Zealand native named Reuben who has been working in Uganda 6 months of the year for the past 12 years.  A long with a kayaker named Bob from upstate New York, they formed the non-Ugandan part of the team for the day.  Then there were 4 Ugandans who, while very friendly, didn't speak much English.

Reuben led us down to the start of our journey, where we hopped in the raft and received our safety training in a small lake that feeds into what is essentially the beginning of the Nile River.  Tonya, Theresa, and I were joined in the boat by Reuben and by another tourist, a Romanian-born living in Rome who also happened to be named Alex.  I'll call him Ming for the rest of this article to avoid any confusion.  Ming had made the questionable decision to bring his passport on board the raft, a fact which he made public to us as we were about one-third of the way into our safety demonstration, at the juncture where we were supposed to practice jumping in and out of the raft.

"You brought your...passport...on board the raft...haven't heard that one in a while," remarked Reuben with a tone of mixed exasperation and comic disbelief..."Omar, run this guy's passport back to the lodge would you."  Omar shook his head and followed his boss's orders as Reuben proceeded withe the safety talk.  We practiced falling in and out of the boat, paddling in various directions (normally the boat has more than 4 guests so we were told we'd be forced to do quite a bit of paddling), and various positions we'd need to adopt as we hit the rapids ("HOLD ON", "GET DOWN", "FORWARD HARD" were just several of the possible commands)

Due to the time we lost from Ming's hiccup, we were drifting dangerously close to the start of the rapids before Reuben had complete the safety talk, so we were forced to hold onto some reeds as Reuben expedited the remainder of the talk.  Eventually, we started drifting towards the first rapid, titled WATERFALL.  I'm not sure if this was the result of the termination of the safety talk, or a sudden gust of wind, but in any event, here we were heading towards a 15 foot waterfall with an absent-minded Romanian-Italian named Ming sitting in the most important seat of the raft.

From right to left: Tonya, Ming, Alex, Theresa, Reuben

Somehow, some way, we survived the waterfall, and I got a taste of the adrenaline rush that would mark much of the rest of the day.  Certainly my self-diagnosis as an adrenaline junkie was not being disproved.  Each of the next set of three rapids was a little bit different.  In one, Theresa somehow fell out of the boat, and I may have inadvertently caused that mishap.  In another, we seamlessly paddled through the rapid without incident.  In the final pre-lunch rapid, we completely flipped the boat, resulting in being caught under the boat for several seconds, followed by a helpless drifting through the end of the rapid.  Around this time, Theresa apparently caught me with a scared-shitless look on my face, one that may or may not have been caught on camera by the professional cameraman employed by the Nalubale rafting company.

Halfway through our journey, we beached the boat, climbed 3 minutes straight up hill, and took our lunch break at a small elevated gazebo, overlooking the Nile.  At this point, Tonya and I fully acknowledged the (wonderfully) absurd sequence of events that had transpired: A Canadian and an American meeting at an Irish pub in Madrid and now eating mediocre cold sandwiches in beautifully crafted wooden stools, sunburnt from head to toe, overlooking the largest river in the world.

The four of us at our lunch destination

The afternoon rapids offered at least as much variety as the morning session, and possibly more.  During one rapid, we all fell out of the boat, and literally drifted down about a 1.5 km stretch of the Nile, a thoroughly relaxing experience.  Another involved us paddling harder than we had yet to keep the raft afloat, an accomplishment we took great pride in.  Going into the final rapid, Reuben informed us "this is a pretty easy rapid, nothing can really go wrong here," a phrase which easily made us all suspicious.  Our suspicions heightened when Reuben said, "if we do hit this 20 foot 'wall' of water, throw your paddles out the boat and hang on tight."

Of course we smacked the 20 foot wall head on, paddles went flying, somehow avoiding contact with any of our faces, and we were immediately, and violently, thrust out of the boat at high velocity, with the raft simultaneously flipping in a violent frenzy.  Easily the most thrilling rapid of the eight, it was the perfect conclusion to a day of tumultuous, variable, and unexpected circumstances.  Throughout the experience, Reuben and his staff at Nalubale were phenomenal, and none of us felt unsafe at all, even though we were rafting Class V rapids, which, according to the ultimate source Wikipedia, are "for those with advanced whitewater experience."

Unsuccessful attempt to prolong the inevitable

Eventually we clamoured back into the boat and paddled to the Nalubale company campground, which also marks the end of the 25km journey down the Nile.  Once ashore, we were immediately given beers, which had never tasted better.  For the low price of $125 per person, the company was phenomenal from start to finish, and I highly recommend them, should you find yourself in the Jinja area in the near future.

The hour-long truck ride back was filled with beers and laughs, as we triumphed our successes, mocked our initial concern at attempting class V, and patted ourselves on the back for surviving the trip injury-free.  About 40 minutes into the drive, we made a quick pit stop on the side of the road, so I could relieve my weak bladder, which had been filled with Nile River beer, roughly the Ugandan equivalent of my college favourite, Natty Lite - relatively tasteless, but easy to drink in high quantity.  As I jumped off the truck, my right food landed squarely on an ill-placed rock, and I heard a loud cracking sound that would've been out of place at a chiropractor's convention.

After stumbling my way over to a small bush and relieving myself, I meekly hobbled back over to the truck, as my comrades made sure I was ok.  Even in my pain, the irony was comical: I'd survived a brutal 25km of the Nile without so much of a scratch, but couldn't successfully complete a three-foot hop from a truck to the side of the highway.  I took my shoe and sock off to reveal a massive plate-shaped bump in my ankle that made everyone squirm a bit.  Nonetheless, Nalubale continued to do the right thing and peppered me with an appropriately heavy dose of painkillers, ice, and alcohol, that allowed me to mostly take my mind off the immediate pain.

We arrived in Jinja, gave many well-deserved thanks to the fine folks at Nalubale, and prepared to get ready for the evening's festivities.  Tonya gave me a couple unknown heavy-duty painkillers, and within 15 minutes we were ready to head to our destination, a large celebration in the nearby town of Mesene.  Mesene is the town where Tonya and her organization, HELP international, had been working, and the party was to promote the success of a decade-long battle to secure government funding and land to expand the existing school in the region.

Likely one of the largest parties Mesene had experienced in years, this was a big deal for the area, and several of the hotshots in the Ugandan government were on hand to attend.  By extension of Tonya, Theresa, and their group, I was considered a VIP of the event, and was able to sit in the same tent as a woman who works directly under the Ugandan president.  The party featured a series of speeches, chants, dances, and songs, and the head of Tonya's organization was called out several times and recognized as an important guest of honour.

Easily the most moving part of the ceremony for me was seeing the children of the school, who were so genuinely happy with what HELP had done for them.  These children wanted nothing more than to receive a proper education; going to school was a privilege for them, and they were extremely thankful to receive such a privilege in such a small town.  The faces on these children absolutely radiated with happiness, thankfulness, and joy.  I couldn't help but think about the contrast to Canada/the US, where many children resent going to school, or refuse to appreciate the opportunity they have.

Certainly, the cliches imparted on me going into Africa have proven true; the experience has made me thankful for so many things that I absolutely took for granted.  Things that I considered a right I now see as a privelege, and things that I considered a privelege have become a luxury.  It's easy to forget just how big the world is sometimes.  While I wouldn't want to live in Africa full time, and am thankful for having been born into the circumstances I was, the experience has been eye-opening, and not only makes me appreciate what I have back home, but opens my eyes to the things the people here do better, and fully appreciate the complex relationship between money and happiness, or even money and freedom.  As poor as these East African villages are, their sense of community, of looking out for each other, of familial responsibility, is one that we should be envious of.

Once the sun fell, I was quickly informed by Tonya that we had to immediately leave the area.  Uganda is not safe like Rwanda -- unfortunately the government is extremely corrupt, and such, crime is allowed to thrive.  While nearly all the Ugandans I encountered were extremely nice people, the country as a whole is more dangerous, especially when you're a white person in a remote part of the country.  We quickly piled into a car and headed back to the hotel, where we decompressed in an engaging and intellectually stimulating conversation over a beer or two.

The conversation centred on the difficulties in attempting to make a change in Uganda.  For every several steps forward, it seemed there had been a step backwards, whether it be a disloyal Ugandan who had been trusted, difficulties in cooperation from the Ugandan government, an overzealous American trying to make too much of a difference, or simple accidental bad feelings caused by cultural differences.  Tonya's leader Jean has been coming to Uganda for the past 10 years, and has fought valiantly for the result that was celebrated by the party that Wednesday night.  Her insight into the many difficulties facing her organization was fascinating, and sparked a variety of interesting questions.  I've been accused of arguing for the sake of argument - and there might be some truth in that - but I found myself genuinely going back and forth on the stances to a number of open-ended questions.  Such is the sign of an engaging conversation - one that makes you second-guess your own beliefs constantly.

Eventually it was time to go to bed, and I got a brief sleep before waking up in time for a 5AM cab back to the airport.  All in all, a throughly enjoyable and exciting - while brief - visit to Uganda.  If and when I return to Rwanda, as I plan to do, I certainly plan on including a white-water rafting trip in Jinja as part of my itinerary.  Now on my 7th Baileys and coffee - really a delicious beverage - , I hope that I've remained mostly coherent.  It's now time for bed, as I prepare for my trip to Tanzania tomorrow.  I'll be in communicado for 11 days, as I observe zebras in the wild, and begin my ascent of the Southern hemisphere's largest mountain.  Here's to hoping I make it to the top - ankle be damned.

Nyungwe Forest

Rwanda is a small country, only about half the size of Nova Scotia, or the size of Maryland in landmass.  Yet it is highly dense, with 11 times the population of Nova Scotia and nearly double the population of Maryland.  Around 10% of Rwandans live in Kigali, where I'd spent the first week of my trip in Africa.  At this point, I was ready for something different, so along with my mother, Faye, and Emmy, I headed to Nyungwe forest, the largest rainforest in Rwanda and the furthest point geographically from Kigali in the country.

The four of us left around 7 AM to ensure we arrived at the forest in time for the final canopy walk of the day.  The drive from Kigali to Butare gave me my first glimpse of Rwandan life outside of Kigali.  The scenery was an interesting mix of rolling countryside and farmland, broken up by busy small towns.  One thing that remained consistent was the huge number of people walking along the side of the highway.  Most Rwandans cannot afford a car, so their options for tr ansport are to take moto-taxis (fairly dangerous but also quite cheap; $2 USD gets you a 20 minute ride across Kigali), or to walk. 

Emmy explained to me that most rural Rwandans will walk great distances to school or to the markets where they sell their harvested fruits and vegetables.  Many of these people, who covered the whole age spectrum, were carrying things on their heads, ranging from baskets of fruit to long pieces of wood to axes.  Emmy explained that rural Rwandans look down on most Kigalians as being lazy, as they cannot carry 100kg on their heads.  Many of the

Two hours into our drive, we arrived at Rwanda's second largest city, Butare.  My mother and Faye had some work to do briefly at the hospital, so Emmy and I headed for the National museum of Rwanda.  While I'm not a huge museum person, this one was quite well done, and worth the forty-five minutes or so I spent exploring it.  Of particular interest was a scaled down model of the type of straw-made palace that the King of Rwanda would have lived in the 1800s.  It didn’t hurt matters that the tour guide who showed me around the museum was the most beautiful woman I’d seen in Rwanda.

After exploring the museum, Emmy and I reconvened with the doctors and headed straight for the forest.  The three hour drive from Butare to the canopy walk at Nyunge forest was even more remote, as small towns and rolling hillsides were replaced with narrower roads, a dearth of people, and tall, increasingly dense trees.  About two hours into the drive, we reached the beginning of the forest proper.    We were delayed a bit towards the end of the drive by construction.  Emmy explained that just five years ago, the entire road system surrounding the park was dirt, but by the end of 2013 it would all be paved.

Of particular interest to me was the fact that Rwanda uses Chinese companies to do their construction (though all foreign businesses operating in Rwanda must employ a minimum of 60% Rwandans).  Apparently Rwanda is one of the easiest countries in the world to set up shop in as a foreign business owner.  Since Paul Kagame took over seven years ago, he's been trying to stimulate the local economy, so taxes for business owners are low, and entry restrictions are limited.  Hearing this made me consider moving to Rwanda full-time and opening some sort of business.  I have a small ownership share in a pizza restaurant in Toronto; we've considered expanding, so perhaps Kigali could be North of Brooklyn's second location.

Eventually we arrived at the start of the hike to the canopy walk just in time.  Everyone had done the walk at least once previously except me, so it was just me and my mother who set out on the quick 2.5 hour hike.  As we embarked on the descent towards the canopy walk,  our guide, Antoine was quick to identify and describe the different types of flowers, trees and plants we saw along the way.  After 40 minutes of slippery, mostly downhill hiking, we arrived at our point of interest.

My mother and I at the midpoint of the canopy walk

The canopy walk itself is a 90 meter long walkway, suspended between three cylindrical towers, 70 meters (240 feet) above the ground.  Built just two years ago, it offers an absolutely fabulous birds-eye view of the Nyungwe forest, though it took me several minutes to get past my fear or heights to fully enjoy it.  Interestingly enough, I felt much more comfortable jumping out of a plane 9,000 feet above the ground than I did traversing this clearly well-built ropewalk at just 240 feet.  By contrast, my mother would never in a million years jump out of a plane, or bungy jump, or do any such extreme activity, but felt quite peaceful being so high up, saying that the presence of nature made her feel at ease.  

Clearly terrified

We posed for some photos, and Antoine did a good job pointing out several groups of jumping monkeys and unique birds that called this marvelous natural castle their home.  After about 30 minutes of traversing, posing, and soaking in the mind-blowing scenery, we began the ascent to the starting point of our hike.  It's amazing how a 40 minute hike downhill can turn into at least a 1 hour hike uphill.  We finally made it back, limbs more or less as attached as they were several hours prior, and had Emmy drive us to our accommodations for the night, the Nyungwe forest lodge, situated in the middle of a tea plantation.

The lodge was, by all accounts, one of the nicest places I've ever stayed.  It was surprisingly luxurious for the surroundings, but at the same time not tacky or obtrusive.  The main building housed a substantial lounge area and a full-service restaurant (all meals were included with the accommodation).  Then the rooms themselves were situated across the tea plantation, in separate villas.  My only complaint was that the bathroom had a non-closeable window in plain view of the sleeping area, which is fine if you are a honeymooning couple, but less suited towards a mother and son sharing a room.

The dining room at Nyungwe lodge

In the morning, Faye, my mother, and I embarked on a 4 hour hike to see Rwanda's biggest waterfall.  Unlike the canopy walk, which was almost entirely downhill on the way there, this hike featured varying ascents and descents, and winded its way through an even more remote part of the forest.  Our guide, "Julius Caesar" was extremely animated as he pointed out the various attractions along the way, including a narrow river that winded its way alongside us for a portion of the hike.  

The waterfall itself was quite spectacular, and certainly put Niagara Falls to shame.  While Niagara Falls is of course much larger, wider, and more powerful, it has become such a tourist attraction, that it has lost much of its beauty, as it's surrounded by more Applebees, IHOPs, and Comfort Inns than a suburban strip mall in Ohio.  On this hike, by contrast, we encountered exactly 0 other people, and the waterfall and its surroundings remained untouched by man.

Proudly displaying my patch of chest hair

After the hike, we had a delicious lunch at the lodge, then hit the road for the 5 hour drive home.  The drive home was noted by many small children running up to our car as we meandered through the more rural stretches, happily shouting "umizugno!" - a common expression to hear from the children in Rwanda, and roughly translating to "rich person" or "rich traveller."  Apparently the gesticulation is not actually intended offensively, although you rarely hear it from adults.

The trip to Nyungwe forest was my first foray outside of Kigali, but certainly not my last.  As of now, I'm still behind on two more blog entries (white water rafting in Jinja and gorilla trekking in Northwest Rwanda), and have two more exciting adventures planned (a 4-day safari in Tanzania, followed by the most ambitious of my journeys, a 7 day trek of Mt. Kilimanjaro).  I leave for Tanzania in 2 days, so I'll try to knock off one or two more blog posts before then

A Day in the Life

I planned on being much more vigilant about regularly updating this blog, but have been finding, for the first time in a while, that I have very little free time.  Between my morning routine at the gym a 9 hour day at the kindergarten and orphanage, and a long dinner with a couple beers, I usually find myself very tired after dinner.  Lame excuse I know...let's get to the blogging.  This blog post will take you through a typial day in the life here in Rwanda.

Early Morning: Luxury (7:00 - 9:00)

I sure am getting used to my early morning routine.  I wake up around 6:45 AM.  Then it's a 25 minute walk to Serena, 30 minutes in the gym, 5 minutes in the steam room, and then another 30 minutes at the breakfast buffet.  It definitely feels weird engaging in such luxury when you consider what the rest of my day looks like.  But if anything, this gourmet morning routine only fuels my fire, increasing my desire to help the kids at Gisimba and give them my 100%.  Just two short days at Gisimba has helped me fully appreciate that money does not buy happiness.  But it hasn't made me lose my appreciation for a nice plate of bacon and eggs and a hearty bowl of fruit in the morning.

Mornings:  (9:00 - Noon)

In the mornings, I've been helping at a kindergarten that's attached to the orphanage.  Along with a young female Australian volunteer named Jordan, I've been working with 4 and 5 year olds, teaching them basic English word clusters (counting to ten, animals, shapes, etc.), singing songs I forgot existed (Old MacDonald, Twinkle Twinkle), and running around with them outside.  There are about 48 kids in the class, and, without the volunteers, only one teacher responsible for the classroom.

Among the many challenges of working with these little rugrats is getting their attention.  My vocabulary in their language of KinyaRwandan is up to about 15 words, but it's still difficult to get the kids to pay attention with such a strong language barrier.  The kids love the songs, however, especially ones with physical components like "Ring around the Rosy" and "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes."  I can safely say that a year ago, I would never have pictured myself singing "Do the Hokey Pokey" with a bunch four year olds in the middle of Africa.

Jordan surveys the sea of youngsters

On Thursday afternoon, we took the kids outside for an extended time of running around.  Jordan and I tried to teach the kids relay races, an attempt that failed miserably.  Instead, every time I started running to demonstrate, the kids would begin chasing me.  This led to an impromptu game of "Chase Alex," whereupon the kids became increasingly aggressive upon catching me, eventually to the point where I'd have 3 kids trying to hang onto my neck, 3 trying to reach into my pockets, and another 2 or 3 trying to pull my pants down.  Needless to say, "Chase Alex" did not last long.

The early stages of "Chase Alex" - the game became increasingly violent

Overall the kids are a ton of fun to work with.  They are for the most part extremely happy, and they seem to genuinely love having Jordan and I around.  At one point, we gave out crayons and pieces of paper and had the kids draw triangles, circles and squares.  Jordan and I were nearly swarmed with kids excitedly running up to us and proudly showing off their handiwork.  Moments like that make working with these kids incredibly rewarding.

Lunch (Noon - 12:45)

For lunch, I head to one of the nearby cafes with the three other volunteers at Gisimba: Anne and Jordan from Australia, and Richard from Minnesota.   The food is unbelievably cheap; 1,000 RWF (~$1.60 USD) gets you a full plate of goat meat, potatoes, rice, fries, and vegetables.  Nonetheless, I've been the only one regularly eating the meat at these cafes; ever since Jordan got quite sick on her second day in Rwanda, the other three have been understandably careful with what they eat.  As a professional gambler, I feel it would be sacrilegious to not take some risks with what I eat.

On Thursday, we headed to the local market, a very typically Rwandan experience.  The market is broken into a food section (largely consisting of fruit, with some rice and beans), and a non-food section, with everything from handmade tapestries to electronics to shampoo.  After eating a delicious mango that cost me only 250 RWF, I stumbled across a small butcher shop just across from the market.  Immediately, I noticed a huge number of flies and other bugs hovering around, and picking on the meat.  One of the butchers aggressively tried to sell me on a cut of goat, but I politely passed, desperately hoping that the local cafes we've been eating at get their meat from another source.  Hopefully cooking the meat would kill off any germs put in place by these pests, but the experience just highlighted the (likely financially necessary) more lenient health laws in place in Rwanda.

Early Afternoon: Downtime (1:00 - 3:30)

After lunch, I switch my focus from the kindergarten to the orphanage.  The early afternoon is traditionally a period of downtime at Gisimba.  The kids often gather in the cafeteria, watching their favorite movie (a completely ridiculous Rwandan zombie movie that uses a mix of live actors and animation), or sitting in the computer lab playing games.  The computer lab at Gisimba was apparently donated by a Korean group, but is now in very rough shape, operating on something like Windows 95, with many of the programs not working and constant error messages popping up.  It's better than nothing, however, and some of the older kids have even been using the computers to write resumes.

I brought four chess sets to Gisimba, not really sure what to expect.  The reception from several of the older kids has been overwhelmingly positive.  They enjoy not only playing full games, but sitting down and learning tactics like pins, forks, skewers and mate-in-2s (chess nerd speak).  I've been spending this portion of the day mostly playing chess, which serves as a nice break between the energetic youngsters in the morning and the athletics in the afternoon.

Jean-Paul tries to remember proper theory in the Winawer variation of the French Defense

Late Afernoon: Hoops City (3:30 - 6:00)

My goal for the year 2016 is to coach the Rwandan national basketball team to relevancy in the continent of Africa.  For now, I'll settle for being the coach of the Gisimba basketball team, an eclectic group of 12-18 year old youngsters who favour hoops over the much more popular football (soccer to us Canucks and Yankees).  Unfortunately there isn't a basketball net at Gisimba (one of several areas I'm considering donating to at the orphanage), so we head to a nearby public court where a myriad of streetballers of varying skills congregate in the afternoon, donning Lebron James jerseys, ready to strut their stuff.

Basketball has always been one of my favourite sports to play and watch, and despite my mediocre athletic abilities, I've played enough organized ball to know the fundamentals pretty well.  Before heading over to the court, I've been practicing dribbling and passing drills with the kids.  We've been to the court twice now, and walked into two very different scenarios.  The first time, there were some kids already there, but we were able to work ourselves into a couple competitive games of 3 on 3.  A The second time, we walked right into a pretty competitive full court 5 on 5 game, complete with a referee and about 50 fans sitting on court-side benches.  We weren't able to take to the court that time, but enjoyed some pretty entertaining streetball, and did more passing and dribbling drills.

Core members of the Gisimba basketball team.  From Left to Right: Olivier #1, Sebastien, Danifique, Coach Alex, Debra, Olivier #2

Dinner: (7:30 - 9:30)

Dinner can be anywhere from grabbing something easy and quick near the apartment to extravagant dinners out with my mother and her work colleagues.  Wednesday January 9th, which happens to be my mum's birthday, proved to be the most enjoyable dinner to date.  A total of 10 people attended: my mum, her colleague Faye from Atlanta, another colleague named Sophia from the UK, three local Rwandan anaesthesiologists (Bona, Paulanne, and Christian), Bona's wife, my mum's friend and former tour guide Steven, our friend and driver, Emmy, and myself.

The venue was a downtown Indian restaurant that is a favourite of ex-Pats and local Rwandans alike. For just $200 USD, the ten of us ate an absolute feast, with a mix of spicy and non-spicy dishes, meat (mostly chicken and goat) and vegetarian dishes, and several types of bread and other accompaniments.  The highlight of the dinner happened around 9:00 PM when the lights all of a sudden went out.  Naturally, I assumed this was a power outage, until I heard a bunch of music come on, and the entire wait staff began parading around the restaurant singing happy birthday for my mum.  

The entire parade went on for nearly five minutes, and included 3 songs and culminated in the presentation of a delicious cake.  While I've seen this sort of thing happen from time to time at restaurants back home, the effort and extent of the celebration by the staff was truly A+ and the cake didn't taste too bad either.  

So there you have it...a typical day in the life here in Kigali.  By the time the dinner bill rolls around, my eyes are usually beginning to close, ready to get back to my apartment and fall into a deep sleep, optimistic that it will be undisturbed by the mosquitos who have taken a fondness to my skin.  It's the first time in quite some time I've been on such a regulated routine, but it's a good change of pace, and the experience has been extremely rewarding so far.

1st Day at Gisimba

At 6:30 AM yesterday morning, I headed to the Serena hotel on foot.  It's about a 25 minute walk that winds through a huge number of small businesses, mostly in shacks.  At this hour, the streets are not super busy, but several hours later the sidewalks will be filled with people, the streets will become a chaotic mess of cars and motorcycles barely following any rules, and the shops will be bustling with people bargaining, bartering, and earning their living.

Upon arrival at the Serena, I headed straight for the fitness centre where I put in a 30 minute workout, then headed for the pool/hot tub area looking to cool off and relax.  It turns out there is no hot tub, and the massive outdoor pool was absolutely frigid, so I decided to head for the steam room instead.  A tradition preached often by my uncle and seconded by one of my roommates, I've discovered the steam room to be an excellent post-workout experience.  This particular steam room was particularly awesome, as they filled the room with delightful scents - the kind you'd expect to smell in a high end spa.

I followed my workout/steam with a delicious gourmet breakfast buffet, complete with one of the oddest selection of juices I've seen in my life:  avocado juice,  tree tomato juice, cucumber juice (?).  It definitely feels odd to be describing these luxuries in a blog about Rwanda, a country that has so little.  At the same time, it makes me appreciate these luxuries that in some contexts (think high end Vegas hotel complex) I would absolutely take for granted.  The hotel is also a great boom for the Kigali economy, and creates many jobs.

At 8:15, Emmy picked me up from the hotel lobby, and we headed to the local market to  pick up some supplies to bring to the orphanage.  I had brought with me from home two soccer balls, a basketball, two tennis rackets, three tennis balls, four chess sets, and two pairs of shoes.  But what we needed now were basic school supplies: notebooks, pens, pencils, and - a reminder to my elementary school days - pencil sharpeners.  I was a notorious pencil tip breaker in my youth, so I formed a close relationship over the years with those colourful little devices.

Emmy did the bartering at the market, because he explained that if I went alone or tried to do all the negotiating in English, I'd get a worse rate.  I tried to tell him that I didn't mind paying a little more to support the market merchants -- they are much poorer and charge way less for comparable products than the people in the proper storefront shacks -- but Emmy insisted on bartering, and we ended up spending about 16,000 RWF ($25) on 60 notebooks, 50 pens, 30 pencils, and 24 pencil sharpeners,

We then headed around the corner and arrived at the orphanage.  It was the first day back from holiday break, so things were extremely hectic and disorganized.  Everyone stays at the orphanage during the holidays, but some of the kids go to nearby boarding schools, or other secondary schools.  Some kids had just completed their schooling, and still others were starting at new schools for the first time.  As such, I only had a few minutes to meet with Ildephonse, the head of the orphanage, to learn what role I would play in my 3 weeks of being there.  He gives me a brief tour of the orphanage, and then hands me off to a couple of the older kids who can show me more of what to expect.

I spend the most of the day getting to know the kids, who range in age from 2 to 22.  Many of the young ones are quite shy, but others smile when they see me and run up to give me a big hug or shake my hand.  Shaking hands and greeting one other is extremely common in Rwanda, even among people who have never met.  There is a real sense of community that is pervasive throughout the city.  This is even further magnified at the orphanage, where, as Ildephonse explained, everyone is part of a big family.

As the day goes on, it really dawns on me just how happy all the children are.  It sounds cliche, but these children who have absolutely nothing, who have never known their parents, who are underfed and live in cramped quarters, are absolutely beaming with happiness and joy for life.  In fact, since I've arrived in Rwanda I haven't encountered a single act of mean spiritedness, and the bar brawl was the only violence I've seen.  It occurs to me that this joy and love for one another helps keep the children happy and content - much in the way many of us rely on our close friends and family, but on a larger scale, and in many cases, a less superficial scale.

Around 1PM, the orphanage breaks for lunch.  I head down the street to a small cafe, with a fellow volunteer, Richard from Minnesota.  Richard is between careers (about to start a technical school to become a technician who operates MRIs and other medical machinery) and has been unemployed for a little over a year.  He decided that he wasn't being productive enough on a day to day basis, so he linked up with a volunteer organization and got a placement in Rwanda.  There were two Australian girls in the same organization as him, but one of them got sick from the food the previous day and the other was taking care of her.  He told me to avoid the samosas, which I did.  I also realized I needed to be more conscious of constantly washing and/or sanitizing my hands.  Getting sick in Africa is something I definitely want to avoid.

After lunch, all the kids gathered in the cafeteria room, where there were several special guest speakers, representing an organization called RIGHT TO PLAY.  The organization, headquartered in Toronto of all places, tries to help disadvantaged youth by using sports and games to shape their lives positively.  One of the representatives delivered a powerful speech in French (somehow my days in grade 6 french with Mme. Danford came back to me and I understood most of it), which was translated in equally emphatic fashion into the local language of Kinyarwanda by Ildephonse.

After the speech, I taught chess to the older kids.  I wasn't sure whether they'd be completely uninterested in learning chess, or have moderate interest, but I certainly didn't expect the widespread joy for playing the game that the kids seemed to display once they fully got a grasp on the way the pieces moved.  Pascal, one of the older kids who I'd been talking with quite a bit, as his English was very good, played 3 games against me and got markedly better with each game.  Most of the kids were content to just watch, occasionally offering opinions on moves in Kinyarwandan.

After an hour or so of playing chess, many of the kids wanted to go outside and play soccer (or football as the rest of the world, including Rwanda, calls it.  I started by playing a big game of monkey in the middle with a bunch of the young kids, where we all pass the soccer ball around in a big circle, and one guy runs around in the middle, trying to deflect the ball or take control of it.  After this I did some running races with these kids - first a normal one, then backwards, then one-legged.  Around this time, the bigger, older kids decided they wanted to have a more competitive soccer match.

I watched the first few minutes of the math - which was actually a very high level of skill, especially for a bunch of kids that had no organizational structure or coach - then headed to the office to talk to Ildephonse, as I was running late for dinner with my mother and a couple of colleagues.  I thanked Ildephonse for the opportunity, and told him how impressed I was with the happiness of the children in spite of their circumstances.  We talked for a few more minutes, and then I started on my way home to the apartment.

Towards the end of the walk, an intense rainfall began and I hopped inside a taxi and headed straight to where we were meeting for dinner.  Just as with my experiences in Cuba and Australia, when the rain starts here it takes almost no time to escalate into an absolute downpour.  We are actually in a dry season right now (Rwanda has two dry and two wet seasons, and the temperature is nearly the same throughout the year), but I've experienced several brief bouts of rain, and without an umbrella, they are quite intense.  After a brief meal and a large beer, I was ready to fall asleep.  This 9PM-5AM sleep schedule I'm on is not one that I'm used to, but it actually feels quite good.

First Day in Rwanda

Despite my fascination with airports, the 29 hour door-to-door journey from downtown Toronto to downtown Kigali could hardly be described as fun.  While I do have a unique fascination with airports, spending as much time as I did on uncomfortable airplane seats, eating food that would be rejected by high-security inmates, was an unpleasant experience to say the least.   Nonetheless, a small sacrifice to make for an opportunity like this.

Finally, after surviving some discomfort and enduring an unintentional fast, we touched down on African soil at 9:30 PM local time.  Stepping off the plane onto the runway, the temperature in the air felt amazing.  Having spent the last couple months partway through an unusually cold Canadian winter -- ok, it's usually cold but this one was colder than usual -- the 16 degree Celsius nighttime weather felt amazing.  Furthermore, the air had that crisp, tropical feel, that I've experienced only a couple times on trips to Cuba

After sorting out our customs forms and retrieving our bags, we were introduced to our driver, Emmy.  Emmy is more than just our driver - he has been a longtime friend of my mother's since she started making these annual trips 5 years ago.  My mother had spoken a great deal of Emmy before my arrival in Kigali, and their fondness for each other was confirmed when Emmy greeted my mother with a big hug and said "Hello Mum!!!"  It turns out that a lot of the young people in Rwanda know and recognize my mother by now and also think of her as their own mother.

As we drove from the airport towards our apartment, Emmy pointed out a lot of the important landmarks along the way: the area where everyone takes their wedding pictures on the weekends, the major supermarket, the hotel whose fitness centre I will be using as my gym, major bars and restaurants, etc.  The streets were vibrant and busy (it was Saturday night after all), and people were walking down the street in throngs, apparently most of them headed to watch the Manchester United game on TV.  While many of the bars and shops along the way were small huts or shacks, there were several fairly large modern buildings, often banks, hotels, or supermarkets.  Apparently there has been much progress in recent years, as the paved roads we were driving on were mostly dirt roads just 5 years ago.

We finally arrived at the apartment that will be my home for the next 18 days.  Situated in the Nyamirambo neighbourhood, the apartment is attended to by a guard 24/7, though the area (and the whole country from the sounds of things) is actually quite safe.  The apartment is of reasonable size, though many of the amenities one would take for granted in the Western world either don't exist or don't work perfectly.  The shower will sometimes run out of either hot or cold water, the fridge is not particularly cold, and the stove and oven don't appear to work at all.  Nonetheless, the apartment is quite nice, and the kitchen offers a beautiful view of a portion of Kigali.

After dropping my stuff off, I asked Emmy if he'd like to go for a beer at one of the local bars.  Despite not being a big drinker, he agreed, and we went for an 18 second walk to a bar across the street.  I was interested to see what my reception would be stepping into this bar.  I clearly stood out, as the only white person in a bar of 80 or 90 people.  In nearly all of my past experiences walking into an area where I noticeably stand out racially or culturally, I've noticed a fair amount of wandering eyes.  Heck, even a recent trip to a small town restaurant in rural Nova Scotia produced a plethora of confused onlookers, apparently not used to seeing anyone but their own townspeople populating their favourite eatery.  Surprisingly, nobody even seemed to notice I was there.  I wouldn't have even been too surprised by this reaction (or lack thereof) if I was in a touristy part of town, but Nyamirambo is a decidedly local neighbourhood.

I asked Emmy about it, and he explained to me that in Rwanda, everyone treats each other equally and with respect.  He further explained that, due to Rwanda's bad international image caused by the 1994 genocide (I'll get into this later), Rwandans are particularly respectful of foreigners.  Most of the people in the bar --including the bartenders-- spoke fairly poor English, so it was difficult to communicate with them, and I mostly just chatted with Emmy about the local culture.  Emmy continued to explain that Rwandans are very peaceful people and that there is almost no violent crime in the country.

In a somewhat dramatic bout of irony, about 5 minutes later, a bar brawl broke out, apparently between an upset WestHam United supporter and an overly celebratory Manchester supporter, shortly after Manchester tied the game at 2-2.  Myself, Emmy, and many others, backed away from the scene as the two guys duked it out.  Emmy explained to me that this was the only time he had seen such a thing happen in Rwanda, and assured me that the situation would dissipate quickly.  While I certainly believe this was the first time he'd seen something like that, Emmy also admitted he wasn't a big drinker.  In my eyes, occasional bar fights are inevitable almost anywhere in the world, and I certainly wasn't about to make any assumptions about Rwanda from a sample size of 1.

As Emmy expected, the fighting stopped fairly quickly, but what ensued for the next twenty minutes or so was a discussion between one of the culprits and the bar-owner, who apparently wanted to ban the guilty party from the bar for life.  I'm not sure exactly how the discussion ended, but I do know that the violence only lasted about 20 seconds.  

Hungry from the scarce in-plane food options, I ordered several local delicacies - goat kebabs and a fried banana dessert dish.  Both were unbelievably tasty.  I can't recall ever eating goat meat before, but apparently it is a feature dish in Rwanda.  After a few more minutes of talking about Rwanda with Emmy, I started feeling tired, and decided it was time to pack it in for the night.  The total bill for 2 beers (one for each of us), 4 goat kebabs, and 4 slices of fried banana was 3,800 RWF (or about $6 CDN/USD).  Those are prices I can get used to.

I didn't get a great sleep, and ended up waking up at 4 AM the following morning.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that wireless internet was working in the apartment (although it did not last).  I surfed the web for a little bit until my mom woke up a couple of hours later.  We headed to the Serena Hotel for breakfast, where we would meet my mom's colleague Faye, and her husband Drew.  Upon arriving at the hotel, we went to the fitness centre, where I signed up for my monthly gym membership: a steep $200.  This puts me to a total of $350 in gym memberships for the month - as I also have concurrent memberships going in my current home city of Toronto and my backup home city of Halifax - slight overkill.  

Nonetheless the $200 is money well spent as the facilities are state of the art (the Serena is the best hotel in Kigali), and I will also be able to have proper showers here every day.  The Serena is also a good place to catch up on emails, blog, and surf the internet, as the internet in my apartment is proving to be dicey and unreliable.  Over the coming weeks, I plan on using the gym at the Serena almost every day, as I want to improve my cardio fitness and leg strength in anticipation of Kilimanjaro.

We met Faye and Drew, a very nice couple from Atlanta.  Faye, like my mother, is an anaesthesiologist, and Drew owns several business, and is heavily involved with options trading in the natural gas industry.  After a very pleasant brunch - complete with "tree tomato juice" - a delicious, but extremely strong, fruit juice offering - we did a few errands and then headed to the apartment to drop off Faye and my mother for a little bit.

Emmy and I  - Faye had rented Emmy as a driver for the day - headed to the orphanage where I will be starting my volunteer work in just a few hours.  Unfortunately, the head of the orphanage was not there, as it was Sunday, but I did get to meet many of the kids.  Some of them spoke some English but many appeared very shy.  However, when I said the word football (alluding to the soccer balls I was going to bring to the orphanage the next day), many of them perked up, and it was clear that they enjoyed their sports.  

After saying goodbye to the smiling kids, Emmy and I returned to the apartment to pick up Faye and Drew, and the four of us headed to the National Genocide memorial musem, in another part of Kigali.  I had been educated a little bit about the genocide before arriving in Rwanda - I knew that it took place in 1994 and that it was a horrendous racially sparked genocide that took the lives of 1 million people.  Emmy had also talked to me a little bit about the genocide, explaining that even talking about Hutus or Tutsis (the two competing tribes during the genocide) is a very serious offence in Rwanda, punishable by up to 5 years in prison.  He explained that these measures are necessary to keep peace in the region, and to ensure that going forward, Rwandans see each other only as fellow Rwandans.

The museum was an eye-opening, and somewhat chilling experience.  I learned that for many decades, the Tutsis were the ruling tribe, despite only being about 17% of the population.  They had most of the land and were dominant in the government of the country.  As time went on, the Hutus became more and more unhappy with the situation, and led by Juvenal Habyamarina, began using force in an attempt to overtake the Tutsi power.  By April of 1994, a full scale genocide had begun. 

One disturbing fact I learned was that several European countries played a role in the genocide - the Belgians, who were the original colonizers of Rwanda, and who stressed the differences between the two tribes, and the French, who were allies of the Hut, and provided them with much of the financial backing that was necessary to carry forth an attack of that scale.  In addition, both the United Nations and the United States Army were fairly unresponsive to calls for support, until about 3 months after the genocide began, and 1 million innocent lives had been taken.  One of the most horrifying things I learned was that even children were often mutilated and killed slowly.

There was one final section in the museum dedicated to other major genocides in the last century.  The most well known one is of course Nazi germany, which was also the longest and produced the most fatalities.  There have also been genocides of over 1 million people in Namibia, Cambodia, and Armenia.  While I'm glad I went to the museum, it was definitely a chilling reminder of how powerful evil forces can be.  Many of the people who participated in these genocides were only doing so because not participating would risk their own lives.

Upon exiting the genocide museum, we headed to a downtown hotel for lunch - the hotel that was apparently used in the filming of Hotel Rwanda.  Over a delicious buffet, I talked with Drew a bit about what he did for a living -- basically using calculus and other advanced math to predict patterns in stock options -- and explained to him what it means to be a professional poker player.  Sometimes I hesitate to talk much about poker because people either come in with a judgmental attitude and are unwilling to listen, or ask a bunch of stupid questions, but Drew asked good questions, and it was interesting to compare our different ways of life.

We did a little more grocery shopping, and then I ended up passing out early at 6PM, having woken up so early that day.  Today, I head to the orphanage for my first day fo volunteering.  I have very little idea what to expect, but I'm bringing with me two soccer balls, a basketball, two tennis rackets and tennis balls, and four chess sets.  We shall see what gets used!

Alex

Last night of normalcy

Departing Thoughts
Written 02/03/12

This piece was written before I got onto the plane for Rwanda.  It was written in a fairly rushed fashion and not edited thoroughly, so excuse the apparent lack of flow and regard it as a sprawling stream of consciousness.  Further entries will all be written from Africa, and will focus on my actual experiences.  

Tomorrow I embark on a 27 hour journey to Kigali, Rwanda.  Fittingly, I'll be stopping in Amsterdam along the way, a city I called home for 3 months in late 2009.  But this trip will be a little different.  I won't be living in a luxury furnished apartment with two young guys my age.  I won't be on a self-indulgent quest of making and spending money.  I won't be taking weekend trips to London and Rome.  Instead, I'll be volunteering my time at Gisimba orphanage in Kigali, teaching chess, basketball, soccer, tennis, and English to a group of 5-16 year old children, and in turn letting them teach me their way of life.  Then I'll embark on a 5 day safari with an old friend, before finally climbing the tallest free-standing mountain in the world

For the past 5 years or so, I've made my living playing cards.  The title of this blog references my poker alias - an amalgamation of my favourite adult beverage and my longtime childhood pasttime.   Perhaps the biggest knock against my chosen profession - and one that I've heard many times over - is that it contributes nothing to society.  Doctors help sick people, teachers educate our youth, even athletes and celebrities entertain us and small business owners give us products that improve our lives.  Poker players, one might argue, do none of this, and as such contribute nothing to society.  Ignoring my personal stance on this school of thought, let's assume for a minute that the argument is true.  The problem is that it defines a person's contributions by their profession - an obviously limiting method.

Having said that, I've likely done very little over the past few years to rid people of the perception that poker players are lazy and selfish people.  The lazy tag is one I will have to accept - I actually work extremely hard at my craft, doing a lot of away-from-the-game study, and putting in tons of hours and talking strategy with fellow players to stay sharp.  But to many people, what I do isn't work but gambling, and instead of putting in 50-55 hour work weeks every week, I haven't worked a day in the past five years.  It's an interesting semantics argument, but one that I'm not going to get into in this blog.

The second point, however, is actually quite valid.  I can't really fight the notion that my chosen profession has been a selfish one.  After all, I work hard to perfect my strategies, so that I can take money from others without directly contributing anything to society.  I work with and teach poker to many friends of mine, but that could be seen as more evil - helping to build an empire of similar-minded people.  Furthermore, and perhaps most incriminating, I have done very little to help the world, or help those in need.  I've donated some money to charity, but have spent embarrassingly few hours actually being charitable, or thinking about those in need - let alone helping them.  Indeed, I've only perpetuated the stereotype of poker players as selfish me-first creatures.

While I think it's dangerous to fall into black and white ways of thinking about our actions -- the notion that volunteering in Africa is an inherently selfless and commendable thing to do, while aggressively trying to move up the corporate ladder, or increase one's wealth is inherently unselfish* -- I do think that for me personally, this is a big step in the right direction for many reasons:

- It's unlike anything I've ever done before.  I've never been to a third world country, and only once have I volunteered for any extended period of time, and that was with my high school
- It's the longest break I will have taken from poker over the past 5 years
- It's a huge deviation from my normal lifestyle and it will be refreshing to have to break some of the habits - good and bad - that I've grown comfortable and accustomed to
- I get to work with kids for an extended period of time.  I've done some work with kids in the past - babysitting when I was younger, and teaching chess more recently - and have always enjoyed it.  Kids to me have a refreshing sense of honesty about them - never afraid to speak their mind or aware of the consequences.  This is a quality I respect and can relate to, as those who know me well can attest to.

I'm excited about this journey for many reasons.  I'm excited for the opportunity to work with and help kids.  I'm excited to see first-hand life in a third world country.  I'm excited for the opportunity for personal growth.  But most of all, I'm excited because I have absolutely no idea what to expect.  Most of my choices in life have been relatively safe ones.  I've done a lot of travel, but it's all been to safe countries, where despite slightly different cultural ways of life, my underlying way of life hasn't been threatened or challenged.

I'll be living with my mother, who has volunteered in the hospital for the last 5 years.  In that sense, it won't be a total plunge into uncertainty, as I'll be with someone who knows the way of life here, and can help direct me in both a practical and a cultural sense.  Still, listening to my mother's experiences and seeing photographs of her past trips only paints a vague picture of Rwanda in my head.  There is no substitute for experience - I've learned that saying holds true in almost any avenue in life.

When I'm done volunteering in Rwanda, I'll head to Tanzania, where I'll meet up with my good friend Dave.  I've probably hung out with Dave a total of 8 times, and this will be our 5th country together.  We met in London at the poker table and have since hung out in Amsterdam, Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe, and Berlin.  In fact, it was Dave that suggested we climb Kilimanjaro, without even knowing that I was going to be in Africa around the same time he was thinking for the trip.

We'll start with a warm-up safari (possibly including white water rafting), and follow it up with what will likely be the most ambitious part of this trip for me - climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro.  I once did an olympic length triathlon without any training, so Kili will be a cakewalk, right?  In all seriousness, I've been behind on my training the past week - due in large part to a high level of alcoholic beverage consumption as a result of "the holidays."  Going to the gym here will hopefully be part of my daily routine.  My main focus will be to improve my cardiovascular fitness, with some focus on building leg strength as well.

I'm about to take off, so I'll leave it at that.  This entry feels somewhat rushed and jumbled, but perhaps that is fitting as it mirrors my mind - filled with thoughts but not sure how to process them or what conclusions to draw.  I'm looking forward to the next five weeks - to seeing how the experience meets the few expectations I have, to seeing what I learn, and to hopefully making a positive difference in the lives of the young kids here.  That is my main goal, and one that I will work hard to achieve.  I'll try to update this blog as frequently as possible, and will be including pictures in future posts

- Alex

* Call me a cynic, but I think that there is a sort of selfishness in any action.  IE many people volunteer because they will feel better about the fact that they are helping other people.  Perhaps they care about helping the other people, but they are also driven by the self-serving notion that they are "doing good in the world."  Many people who work hard and are greedy about money are driven by a desire to provide for their families and their good friends.  Overall, I think the latter group (self-serving businessmen) would display a higher degree of selfishness than the former (volunteers), but I think it's extremely dangerous to label one group as bad and selfish and the other as good and unselfish.  Everyone is motivated by different things, and one's actions on paper do not speak to these motivations or to one's character.