{"id":77,"date":"2013-01-27T16:27:00","date_gmt":"2013-01-27T21:27:00","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2016-11-14T12:44:15","modified_gmt":"2016-11-14T17:44:15","slug":"toes-to-the-border","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/2013\/01\/27\/toes-to-the-border\/","title":{"rendered":"Toes to the border"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/div>\n

Today was another long day with moments that blend together and experiences that could fill an entire week.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The morning began with an exploratory trip to a remote area, the location of which we only vaguely knew. Our driver stopped for directions about every mile along the way. This tiny village is the home of a woman that our colleague on this trip deeply admires. Getting there was more like a spiritual pilgrimage for her than an academic journey. One of the stops to ask for directions was particularly funny. Of course, they were speaking Kinyarwanda, so we couldn\u2019t understand exactly what they were saying. Our friend seemed to get a little irritated, and it turned out that the man who knew where the location of the village was giving directions by waving his hands and saying you go \u201cthis way then this way\u201d and our friend was struggling to get him to actually say \u201cleft\u201d or \u201cright.\u201d We finally arrived and lingered for a bit at the mountaintop home of a genocide survivor whose story<\/a> has been transmitted all over the world. It was a tiny sanctuary situated at the top of the world whose beauty belies its tragic past. And that\u2019s all I\u2019ll say on that\u2026<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
We decided to decline some invitations to visit houses or go to church in the interest of making our appointment in the north in the afternoon. Much of the rest of the day took place in a car. A bumpy ride jostled us up steep mountains and past some of the most expansive tea plantations I\u2019ve ever seen. The red earth that I associate with Rwanda gave way to dense forests draped in a misty blanket that gave me a bit of a chill. The environment was so intoxicating that I was nearly<\/i>hanging my head out of the back window like a little dog. As a side note, my professor keeps encouraging to me to do a blog entry about my packing secrets for trips like this. Packing tidbit number 1: non-drowsy Dramamine is much more effective than its generic counterpart. I don\u2019t know why. It just is. Not only did I not pass out in the car like a child, I didn\u2019t feel the least bit sick or sleepy (until the end of the hours of driving). It could\u2019ve been that I was wearing my motion sickness bracelets too, but I really think it was my discovery that I\u2019d stashed real<\/i>Dramamine in my medical kit in the car. Woot!<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Packing charcoal – Photo by Dr. J<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
We swerved and jiggled up the rocky mountain road and came to a bend where people were packing charcoal chunks into large white sacks to be transported for sale. Above us, we realize that a huge group of people was looking down from the \u201coven\u201d where the charcoal had been cooked. They cut the wood from the forests and then basically bake it in these underground chambers until the fire goes out. This charcoal comes out of the region because there are so many trees and room to build these huge ovens (they \u201cbake\u201d huge logs without cutting them into manageable pieces). The charcoal is then broken into manageable pieces and packaged by the side of the road. Someone comes by truck to deliver them to the market somewhere. Now, in order to protect these precious forests, the Rwandan government requires that a new tree be planted for every one cut, and <\/i>they provide the seedlings! <\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Tea plantations stretching across the hillside<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
We didn\u2019t have long to stay there, so we jumped back in the SUV and continued on the path to Gisenyi. At some point, about an hour from our destination, I so desperately had to pee I just couldn\u2019t take it anymore. Forgive my crass turn in conversation here, but toileting in developing countries is all part of the adventure. For whatever reason, it seems Rwandans never have to \u2018go\u2019 midday. Our friend told us it\u2019s because she perspires so much she doesn\u2019t have to go. I can buy that, I guess. I don\u2019t feel particularly hot here, so I haven\u2019t been sweating that much. It\u2019s a huge ordeal though to ask someone to use their \u2018facilities\u2019 because it\u2019s simply not done. We ran into this the last time we travelled remotely in the country. I\u2019m actually very flexible with the conditions of toileting. My first real experience with squat toilets in Japan developed in me the ability to \u2018go\u2019 almost anywhere. It\u2019s a good thing, too. Our friend negotiated for a while at a small bottled soda distribution center in this tiny town up in the mountains. It didn’t\u2019 look like it was going well, but at some point she just subtly signaled to us that we should go in. I can never figure out if our Rwandan friends are embarrassed that they have to do things like this for us. If it was embarrassing, it wasn\u2019t enough so that we could just go in the woods\u2014our driver wouldn\u2019t hear of that! We were led through this dark, tiny room stacked with soda bottle crates and into an open courtyard. The moss on the floor made it clear that even employees didn\u2019t frequently use this area. The man guiding us to the back vaguely gestured to a back room and then disappeared back to his chores. Our friend wandered around trying to open the doors to find the \u2018toilet,\u2019 and after about 5 full minutes of searching, which is a very <\/i>long time when you\u2019re busting, turned around and realized that the open room behind her was<\/i> the toilet. A room the size of a walk-in closet served as the restroom. I left the door open while I went because it was so dark I was afraid I might accidentally fall in the hole. The floor was covered in wooden planks (obviously hollow underneath) in the center of which was a small hole. Around the edge of the room there was a rod sticking up out of the floor and a blue wooden chair in the corner. What\u2019s the chair for? Would you really just hang out in there? As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I realized that there was actually a light bulb in there but it hardly served its purpose. So, this is turning out to be a long paragraph that unnecessarily details my toileting experience, but it was clean and quite nice compared to other places I\u2019ve been. If I ever lead a study abroad course, I think I\u2019ll include a leaflet on tips and tricks for toileting around the world. <\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
The DRC is that stretch of land in the distance<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
So, after that experience, we journeyed on and ended up at this super posh hotel on the shores of Lake Kivu. It\u2019s a five star hotel with outrageous prices for food, a view of the Democratic Republic of Congo, and free internet. It\u2019s full of foreigners who obviously have too much money to throw around. We didn’t\u2019 stay the night there, but did partake in the internet access and have a bite to eat. The prices were so exorbitant that our Rwandan friend nearly lost her appetite because she couldn\u2019t imagine spending that much on food. What that really means is that the prices were relative to what we would pay at home, probably since only foreigners go there. My veggie burger and hot tea was well under $10. It was an interesting cultural moment. Then I wanted to know exactly who in this area would be able to stay at a place like this. Our friends insisted that rich Africans wouldn\u2019t stay here because having money means having increased social obligations. Only foreigners would be able to \u201cthrow away their money\u201d like this. Hmm. I get it. Spend money on yourself to vacation in another African country or spend money to visit your family and share the wealth?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Chickens!!<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Buying eggs<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
We moved on to our late afternoon appointment which was located much farther into local neighborhoods than we expected. This area of Rwanda, at the border of the chaotic DRC, has a much different feel that other parts I\u2019ve been. The dirt is black and strewn with chunks of hardened lava rock. The pulverized black rocks give an impression of ash that literally washes you from head to foot as you walk down the road. Rwandans, being their tidy selves, have stacked many of these rocks in neat rows to form garden borders or the foundations of houses. Apparently on the Congo side, closer to the volcano that erupted a few years ago, the rocks just liter the town. We pulled into an area where the Rwandan environmental ministry has resettled those identified as the most economically marginalized in their communities in order to give them a safe place to live and provide an opportunity to work in a cooperative together. The houses reminded me a lot of the Rwandan government\u2019s program to resettle Tanzanian refugees on the other border (as I wrote about in 2011). The elderly women (and two men) greeted us with the warmth of someone who\u2019d known us all our lives. We were embraced and showered in greetings. It made me miss my own grandmother a little. She would\u2019ve loved <\/i>this trip! The grandmothers proudly showed us their collection of nearly 1,000 chickens (who were pecking at our exposed toes while we took pictures. Careful!) and then to a room with eggs for selling. My professor purchased some to show her support, which then turned into a whole ordeal because they wanted to keep their plastic egg trays but didn\u2019t have anything to put the eggs in. Travel tip number 2: carry small, reusable shopping bags. Not the kind you get from the grocery store, but the kind that fold up and can be carried in your pocket– you never know when you’ll be buying eggs! The women sang and danced and truly enjoyed having their pictures taken. It might\u2019ve been the first time they\u2019d seen themselves in a picture based on the way they were pushing each other out of the way and trying to figure out who on the camera was who. All the while, children gathered behind us to watch the commotion and an elderly man served as crowd control with his stick. <\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Group of elderly involved in a chicken-raising cooperative<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
<\/a><\/div>\n
We ended the day with a drive down the promenade that the Belgians built when they colonized this area. The street was until recently lined with huge European-style mansions which have now been torn down to build hotels and condos. At the end of the road, nearly without warning, you arrive at the border of the DRC. It\u2019s really hard to imaging vacationing literally on the edge of a conflict zone. It\u2019s one of the most difficult things for me to wrap my head around here. Are you just oblivious to the suffering that happens less than an afternoon’s stroll away, or do you just not care? I know it\u2019s not that simple, but some part of me judges the foreigners lounging in the pool of that beautiful hotel. The DRC was so close to the hotel I could\u2019ve swam there if I\u2019d wanted. The border is a dusty, chaotic area where people can cross by foot or by car (separate gates). My professor asked if we could take a picture of the crossing sign, and eventually convinced the border patrolman to agree. As she moved around trying to get a good shot, a man dressed in civilian clothing approached her and asked to see her photos. She also approached an NGO worker we saw drive through the border crossing into Rwanda and was met with deep suspicion and a reluctance to answer any questions. It might look like just any other road, but there\u2019s definitely tension in the air. Ironically, there was a sign just behind me that said \u201cInvestment Yes, Corruption No.\u201d<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
The space between – Photo by Dr. J<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Border from the car<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
Border crossings are really fascinating spaces, and this one might be one of the most complex. Rwandans and Congolese can cross the border on foot with little or no problems. For foreigners to cross, you must first visit the Rwandan immigration bureau, walk across the space between, and then go to the Congolese immigration office where corruption might lead to your passport being taken and held until you pay the \u2018right\u2019 price. The order of Rwanda gives way to chaos and lack of infrastructure and development as you move toward the other side. I didn\u2019t cross, but I could see<\/i> the other side. <\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And now, here I sit in a fancy hotel with cabanas and giant African birds<\/a> that are kept to make the garden feel exotic. We have hot water to wash away the black soot from our skin and a comfy bed to sleep in at night. Meanwhile, just across the way\u2026<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
View from my room<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Today was another long day with moments that blend together and experiences that could fill an entire week. The morning began with an exploratory trip to a remote area, the location of which we only vaguely knew. Our driver stopped Continue reading Toes to the border<\/span>→<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1419,"featured_media":202,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","wds_primary_category":0},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/77"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1419"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=77"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/77\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":213,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/77\/revisions\/213"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/202"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=77"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=77"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fs.wp.odu.edu\/efrydenl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=77"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}