A Country Made for Cycling and a Feeling of Otherness

Cycling the Tour D'Afrique, days 49 to 58, Lake Bunyonyi (Uganda) to Speke Bay (Tanzania)

Distance Cycled: 4,830km

Metres Climbed: 23,063m

Time on Bike: 184:10:06

Time in Truck: 0:00:00

The latest stretch has seen us complete our tour around the vast lake Victoria, taking us through the magnificent Rwandan mountains and onto the edge of the Serengeti in Tanzania. Departing our relative luxury at lake Bunyonyi we climbed up into the highlands to the Rwandan border. A typically African affair, having to queue at one kiosk (curiously denoted the Ugandan entry point) in order to get permission to go to another kiosk to purchase a visa before finally queuing in a third line to get the final approval. Before long we were off into the Rwandan countryside headed for Kigali for another couple of days off the bike. Illness excluding, the short days in Uganda and the frequent rest days through to Rwanda, meant we were in for a bit of a shock as the tour returned to type with 6 days in a row into Tanzania, bush camps, climbing and the return of searing heat.

Green, green Rwanda

Unlike the rest of the continent, Rwanda is a country made for cycling. With a relatively temperate climate and smooth roads flowing along lush green valleys and over winding mountain passes. Roads where, for once, larger traffic actually seem to acknowledge your existence. With the local population there appears to be an appetite for it too. As with the rest of Africa the bicycle is primarily a vehicle of utility and in Rwanda they are ubiquitous. Used to carry anything from vats of water to live goats. There is even a thriving bicycle taxi trade - glamorously dressed women sitting side saddle as the rider grinds their way up the hill being a common sight. Always on bikes with no gears and barely working brakes- yet often elaborately decorated. Whereas in other countries we've visited the bicycle is often looked down on as the mode of transport of lower social classes, in Rwanda I got the feeling there was a genuine enjoyment of cycling. On a number of occasions as I passed a local cyclist, they enthusiastically began drafting behind me to the cheers of other locals on the roadside. And these guys are fit too. Once, having stopped at lunch a little longer for extra peanut butter and jam sandwich, I had my head down to try and catch Ed and Wendy, and almost instantly had a couple of local riders on my back wheel. 10km later, going at a fair whack on my modern, geared, drop handlebar-ed cross bike, they were still there. With my friends finally in sight I clicked up a few gears and pushed on, figuring I'd now drop them for sure. Lo and behold, with a cheerful wave, they only peeled off when they'd reached their destination - a wave I could only barely return as I attempted to catch my breath. Then there's the Tour du Rwanda. A semi-professional bike race taking a similar format to stage races like the Tour de France. Which last year attracted crowds that far exceeded the world championships in the middle east. Perhaps Rwanda can be a cycling powerhouse in years to come? It certainly seems to have the right ingredients.

Who looks like they're putting in the most effort?

Rwanda, and Kigali in particular, is an intriguing place, and somewhat different to its neighbouring countries. For one, rules and process are followed, regardless of how arbitrary and time consuming they may be. Litter is absent and the infrastructure seems modern and devoid of the colonial decay seen in Nairobi and Kampala. Paul Kagame, often cited as Africa's benevolent dictator has also by all accounts reduced corruption such that levels are incomparable to it's near neighbours. However, by any metric, Rwanda is still a poor country. Perhaps Kigali is simply a public facing facade hiding deeper rooted issues. A local wryly asked us why we thought it seemed so calm. "The police, they're everywhere clothed or hidden" suggesting somewhat of a police state. There is also a significantly growing wealth gap. And unfortunately, after a sobering visit to genocide memorial, there is clearly something profound left over in the national psyche that I cannot begin to comprehend. To think that everyone my age and and older has bared witness to the absolute worst of humanity gave a sombre perspective. There for only 5 days, it is by far the shortest time we have spent in any once country, but it has certainly left a huge mark and opened so many questions. Definitely a place I need to return to - ideally with bike in tow!

Rusumo Falls. Beautiful, but infamous as the site of a number of dead bodies during the genocide

Rwandan Slot Machines

This was also the first time I've felt really far away from home. I began to feel a bit weary of being and being treated as such an oddity. At every time we stop, whether it be lunch, camp, stopping for a cool drink or a picture, a crowd gathers and the crowd stares. Mainly kids, but quite a few adults too. On the bike too, there endless whistles, hisses and shouts. When passing the Boda Boda stands (motorcycle taxis) you can't help but feel you're the butt of a joke you don't understand. Even the shouts of ‘Mizungu', though said without intent, add to the feeling of otherness. I just have to keep reminding myself how alien we must be. Lycra-clad white people on their strange bicycles followed by their big shiny white support trucks from which food appears, setting up their big tarpaulin sheets to sleep under.. I get it, I do. With this feeling of otherness I naturally wondered if, as a white male, I was stepping into the shoes of any minority in my own society. I think that's too easy an analogy. This is a somewhat more acute experience compared to what must be something deeper, more subtle and chronic.