Ruhengeri Guerillas

It’s a bit over 2 hours to go from Kigali to Ruhengeri. When I picked up our permits I was told repeatedly, "You must provide your own driver into the park." and "you must be at the Park Entrance @ 7:00 am and provide your own driver" and "The park entrance is at Kinigi not Ruhengeri.and you must provide your own driver". So I went to town to get the bus travel tickets while Dr. Konn went to take care of ordering dresses to be made for family and friends from a seamstress @ Kimironko market. We want to get to Ruhengeri early enough to make those driver arrangements but the buses are full and the earliest I can get a ticket to leave is 4:00 pm. Which will get us to our destination around 6:40 and then we’ll find the hotel and still have to find a driver. Rwanda pretty much shuts down for business after dark which is a constant 6:00 pm every day of the year. Dr. Konn calls the hotel and they have a driver they use and they assure her that for $60 we’ll have our driver for the day.

Rwanda is playing a football match against Morocco. The match started about 15 minutes prior to our departure. We were not paying any attention to it but knew instantly when a point had been scored by Rwanda. The cheer literally could be heard across the city. The din of the bus area is replaced by the din of jubilee. People were shouting, horns were beeping, arms thrust in the air in victory with smiles were on every face. The bus arrives 5 minutes before departure time and there is the mad dash to get in the door and grab a seat. A window seat gains control of the window, a surface to lean your head against while sleeping and you only have to hug the person on one side instead of the two person group hug of the est of the seats. It’s a beautiful drive, on a pretty nice bus. We’re packed in already but there are a few empty seats as we leave. But we aren’t done yet as there is a 2nd bus station on the way out of town. We stop here to finish the canning process and they’ve over sold the bus by one. There are three seats plus the one that folds down to eliminate the aisle. We’re seated five across, which already one more than there are seats and now the seat behind us is 6 people in 4 seats. But everybody seems happy because the game is being blared over the bus radio and Rwanda is winning. Dr. Konn gets out some tissue paper to plug her ears. The speakers in the front of the bus aren’t working and the driver has it cranked so he can hear clearly from his front seat location. I don’t have a clue about what’s being said but don’t need to. The rhythm, pitch and timbre of the Rwandan announcers’s voice is the universal. Rwanda has the ball and the pitch goes up, Rwanda gets closer to the goal and the pitch rises some more with the speed increasing a notch and each sentence is left hanging , , , with a rapid fire if a goal shot is attempted and an blast off acceleration if there is a score or a rapid descent of disappointment if the shot is missed with a quick re-grouping to tell what’s happening next. I don’t understand a word but can easily follow the game. We’re out in the country side when they score another point. Villagers we’re passing begin pumping their fists into the air and the bus is honking at them in Rwandan pride. Now the same progression but the bus gets quieter. Morocco must have the ball near the Rwandan goal but when the announcer does the blast off part there is a collective moan (Morocco scored the point). In the mountains we periodically lose the station and the driver instantly tries to find another station. There is nothing else on the radio but he still has to find a station that reaches that particular stretch of road. Sometimes the radio lasts for 5 minutes and other times for 15 before a switch. At each village you can tell where the radios are located as there will be a clump of 5 to 15 people at a doorway listening. Sometimes they carry the radio to a spot on the road where there is reception and they’ll sit at that spot in a huddle encouraging their team to win for them. Once the halftime is reached there is quiet music for the intermission and most of the passengers sleep until the 2nd half. Same thing over again but now we hit stretches of time when there is only static to static as the ready searches for a signal for 5 minutes before we get 20 seconds of fuzzy broadcast. They all strain to hear whether a goal has been scored during our absence. Another goal, another collective cheer on the bus with more fist pumping villagers dancing around. The game finally ends and the entire countryside is celebrating. I’m a bit confused about the score as I know we’ve heard 4 cheers so far but the insistent sign language between passengers shows a score of Rwanda 3 Morocco 1. It might well have been super bowl Sunday back home.

At Ruhengeri the bus driver physical blocks the doors so that the departing passengers can get off. It takes quite a bit of effort on his part to hold back the mob on his back until the last passenger gets off. If he didn’t do this the passengers still on board would be swept back to the seats in the back of the bus by the oncoming tidal wave. When he releases the dam, every seat is claimed within 90 seconds. You could easily be trampled in one of these scrums.

It’s very dark and we have about a Kilometer to walk along the road to get to the hotel. It’s a constant calculation for your safety. Is it safer to walk on the nice smooth road (and take a chance getting hit by a car, lorrie or bicycle) or safer to be off the road (but perhaps twist your ankle or knee in some unseen pothole or crater). The vehicles have a light so you can see them coming but none of the silent bicycles have illumination and you have exactly 1 second from the time of sensing them until you feel their air as they blast past. We’re happy to reach the safety of the hotel Murhabura. The man at reception has two singles reserved and yes the driver will pick us up @ 6:00 am and we must pay him $60 U.S.. Hotel and continental breakfast for $40 each. There are no other restaurants close but this is supposed to be one of the best in town so after checking out the rooms we head for supper. Normal African fare with a few French specialties. We were hungry so we both ordered an appetizer of fresh cream of mushroom soup, entree of goat skewers and chips plus a desert. The serving bowl of soup that arrived contained at least a half gallon of soup. It still contained enough to serve 3 or more people when they took it away. It could have easily been the entire meal as they brought toast out as well. I canceled my desert order as I was full before the entree had been served. At the table next to us was the coach for the Rwandan Cycling team. I’ve seen one of the riders in Kigali and we chat for about 20 minutes. Supper over, it felt as though it was after 10:30 but the clocks said it was only 8:30 - Regardless I went to bed and had no problem falling asleep with the alarm clock set for 5:30.

The promised 5:30 continental breakfast is served on African time @ 6:00 so Pascal the driver waits while we shovel our food in. The ride to Kinigi Park office is nice but the roads are already crowded @ 6:10 on a Sunday morning. I guess if you go to bed when the sun goes down you are ready to get up when the sun comes up. We pepper Pascal with questions and he assures us he’ll be our driver all day and that he’ll be willing to take Rwandan Francs as he doesn’t have any change for the U.S. bill I’ve brought. Once @ Kinigi we register, have tea and get assigned to one of the 7 guerilla groups that are being visited. Dr. Konn repeatedly asks to go to the group with the shortest walk. Pascal is quite excited when he asks if we want to go to Susa group. It’s the largest group and has the famous twin juveniles. He assures her that it’s a "medium walk" so we find ourselves with 6 other trekkers receiving instructions from our guide Olivier. Our group has three Australians, a couple from South Africa, a young lady from Vermont Dr. Konn and myself make 8 (which is the max per group that visits a family). I know that many people desire this particular guerilla family and I’m pleased but seem to remember that this is supposed to be the farthest hike (sometimes taking 4+ hours to reach the family) Pascal assures us that yesterday they were close, , , just a medium walk...

The guide, Olivier, rides in our 70's model Land Cruiser at the head of the convoy of 4 wheel drives vehicles. But we head in a different direction than the other 6 teams of trekkers, back to Ruhengeri past our hotel and then down the road to Gisenyi which is being repaved. Each of the villages has a crowd of people getting their pictures for their I.D.s. I’m not entirely sure but it seems that it’s census time and everyone is supposed to go back to their home village to register. After 40 minutes of driving we turn off onto a washed out road through the village, out of the village to an even more washed out road, onto a washed out muddy track until our 4 wheel drive won’t go any further (4 wheel drive doesn’t work when the tires don’t have adequate tread) Into the back of one of the other Land Cruisers until it can’t go further and we start our walk early (not being able to reach the planned parking area). We’re joined by a military escort packing automatic weapons and a group of potential porters. Some had planned to hire porters. My pack is light and I don’t want to spend the extra money, , , , the young couple are also carrying their own packs. Four porters grab the other folks packs and a 5th man comes along just incase. We’re told that the military is there to "scare off buffalo or elephants" and that they will be very unhappy if they are included in any pictures. (During the trip there was always one in front and one at the rear)

The climb to the edge of the park is very, very steep and along or through the fields. A few cattle, sheep and goats are seen periodically and there are homes almost to the border of the park. It takes over an hour and two rest stops to get to the stone wall marking the edge of the park. Dr. Konn has hired the extra porter and is ready to see the guerillas now. After we’ve caught our breath we’re given our next set of instructions. And told that the family is about a 90 minute walk once into the forest. The guide puts on a 2nd set of pants, an extra jacket and a pair of leather gloves to guard against the stinging nettles (which he promises to point out so we can avoid them).

If it were not for the bamboo, this walk could be almost any trail on a wet spring day in the Appalachian mountains back home. The plants look quite similar with mint, nettles, blackberries and clover. The trail is narrow, steep, muddy and prone to frequent roots. We proceed slowly and are encouraged to keep close together and quiet as we go. We can tell when we’re getting close to the trackers as the radio reception has less static and is getting clearer as we approach them. Another hour and finally we reach a point where a tracker meets us and when we’re told to drop the packs and walking sticks. Take everything we value out of the packs (so that there can be no accusations if something later is missing) and no food or water past this point. If the packs need to be moved the porters are to carry them (even if we didn’t hire a porter). Another 20 minutes walk and we’re ready to begin our hour with the Susa family.

Shhh, around a corner and into a thick patch of stinging nettles and we can hear the various individuals eating. Slowly we approach with the trackers grunting our presence. We come close to the 2nd oldest silver back. He’s big, very big but the most impressive part is the size of his hands. He doesn’t really turn to ignore us also doesn’t acknowledge us either. It’s as though we were simply a flock of birds that are part of his normal background. He decides to take a nap and I catch it on video. The family group starts to move and they head up the hill with us following quietly but quickly behind. The pattern seems to be five minutes of vigorous climb followed by 5 minutes of sitting, munching on nettles or bamboo until they start climbing again. Olivier explains that the bamboo shoots contain a bit of alcohol which they enjoy and are searching to find. But it’s the end of the season and they are having to look a lot to find a few pieces of bamboo shoots.

At one point we climbed past the family and position so that we can see them as they pass. We don’t move fast enough and Olivier is urgently encouraging us to get off the path and Shhh and "no pictures now!". A couple of black back males are waiting for us to get off the path so they can go past. My trekking pants are not thick enough to guard against the stinging nettles and I didn’t even think about gloves. I’m stung close to 600 or 700 times. My arms, legs and hands are letting me know that I should have read up a bit more or payed closer attention about what to bring. A number of times I put down my camera and just try to absorb it all. I’m concerned that I could easily spend the entire time staring through the back of a camera and miss the magic of the moment. We only get one hour and Olivier has a clock that he keeps checking to make sure we don’t spend more than our allotted time. From first sighting to last picture we climbed close to an additional Kilometer. Olivier tells us later that we stopped following the family @ 2,975 meters (by GPS). It takes almost 20 minutes of sliding and mud surfing to get back to the porters and Dr.Konn. She had stopped after the first sighting but had gotten to see the twins (which we missed). When she sat down and the mother and both twins had come and sat next to her before heading up the hill to rejoin the group.

The group is pretty jazzed but all are tired from the climb. We got lots of great photos. We’re told that many other times the family is resting and there is very little climbing once the group has been reached but today we arrived during one of the moves. Bye to the trackers (who will spend the rest of the day following the family until the guerillas make their evening nests) and we’re on our way down. Forty minutes and we’re back at of the park rock wall border. While we rest Dr. Konn receives a phone call from the hotel. They’d told us we could leave our stuff in the rooms until after the trek and where are we? We’d expected to be back by noon but Olivier says it’ll be close to 3:30 before we’ll arrive back (we have the only keys?!?). A bit more rest and 40 minutes more walking through the fields and we leave the military escort and 10 minutes more to the waiting 4 wheel drives. The whole community is there to see us off. Dr. Konn has words for the driver Pascal who had told her "medium walk" and I have words for him when I discover that by convincing us to come to this family we’re now charged an additional $20 because of the increased distance.

A call on the way back to town and we are told that the buses are filled until Monday. At the motel I hurry to grab our stuff from the rooms while Dr. Konn hurries to get the receipts. Hurry to town where Olivier (who rode with us again) helps me at a different bus company to obtain the last two tickets to Kigali on the next bus out @ 4:00. We hurry to a store to grab something to eat as our 6 am breakfast is long gone. Hurry back to the bus area and within a few minutes are scrumming for seats again. This bus has four individual seats on each row, with no aisle jump seats and only four passengers per row. Back in Kigali by 6:30 back at the house by 7:00 and supper of spaghetti with Terry. We’ve obviously not moved and he reports there was no activity toward moving the entire time we’ve been gone. Which has only been 27 hours since we left.

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To see all of the photos from my trip to Parc National Volcanoes and the Mountain Guerillas click here.