The Crossing - Rwanda to Tanzania

When preparing in the states for my trip abroad, there was only one part of the journey that really made me nervous: the border crossing from Rwanda into Tanzania.  I knew from reading in my WomenCraft employee manual that the border closed after 6pm, so I needed to plan my flight arrival accordingly.  I also knew I would have to cross the border with over $1,000 USD in cash: brand new $100 bills. Since Ngara has yet to implement a convenient system for money and wire transfers internationally, and has no local ATMs, I was left with no other option.  This, coupled with the fact that I didn't know what my driver would look like or where he would meet me at the airport, created some minor anxiety but...I did what I could before my departure to ensure a smooth transition.

October 19th, I arrived at the Kigali airport in Rwanda. I passed through customs without a hitch and my bags were some of the first to arrive on the luggage carousel.  It was 9:30am local time, and although I had been traveling all night long (since 11:00 pm local time in Bangalore, which was 8:30pm local time in Kigali), I was alert and excited to start my new adventure.  I walked through the doors to the arrival area, and was delighted to see a small, timid man holding a sign that read "Welcome/Karibu, Nichole Letherer" with the WomenCraft logo boldly displayed at the top.

"Edson!" I exclaimed.  "Hi!"
"No, no....not Edson.  William.  Edson not here".

Edson, WomenCraft's Logistics Manager, was supposed to pick me up at the airport, but apparently there had been a communication error.  I didn't care...I was just happy that someone from the organization, someone remotely familiar, was there to greet me.

William then flipped over my welcome sign and pointed to a hand written message for me to read.  Edson would be arriving soon.  He was shipping a package for WomenCraft to the U.S., and we were to wait here until he had finished and could retrieve us.

About 10 minutes later, Edson walked through the door.  We exchanged pleasantries, and he explained to me that the shipping of the WomenCraft package was not yet complete, and that we would have to return to the shipping office to finish the task. No big deal. William, Edson and I grabbed my bags, and we walked up the hill from the airport to the shipping area. 

To expedite the process, William had volunteered to assist Edson with the packing of the shipment, but Edson had kindly refused.  No, no.  Best someone stay with the muzungu. We don't need her wandering off or getting lost now.  It won't take too long anyways.

So one hour passes and turns into two.  Our comfortable, sunny post-up spot on a bench outside the shipping office suddenly takes a turn for the worst.  The winds pick up, so much so that my scarf and hat get ripped off me and go flying through the air.  The wind and rain is bad, but the dust pounding our faces is worse.  The sky turns black and people run for shelter.  William and I grab my bags in a hurry and run for the nearest shelter: an old UNHCR tent from the days of the Rwandan genocide.  Exhausted, hungry and parched, I lay down on the dusty floor, cushion my head with my Timbuktu bag, and fade into sleep.

Next thing I know, I feel a poke in my side.  I open my eyes, and to my surprise find the "poker" to be a Rwandan police officer.  Twenty of his friends are with him, and they are all hovering over me, staring at me.  A little startled, I turn over to make sure my co-pilot is still by my side.  "No problem" says William.  My recent travels in India have brought me to the quick conclusion that all I am to them is entertainment...a rare bird.  A white girl in funny clothes with weird bags, oddly napping on the floor of their training grounds. I sit up, say "hi" and start to respond to the typical developing world questions "where from? name?", get a few laughs and a warm welcome.   Now I'm awake, and now I feel like I'm truly in Rwanda.

On our fourth or so hour of waiting, I start to ask questions:

"William, have you heard from Edson? I mean, has he called you?"
"No"
"Ok....well do you think we might end up staying here for the night in Kigali then?"
"No.  We go back Tanzania"

I try to make my questions short and concise, since we are working with limited English.  I'd heard many stories about everything taking longer than usual in Africa, but I can see that even William is getting impatient and anxious.

After five or six hours, around three o'clock, Edson finally arrives through the gates.  We wait another thirty minutes to an hour for paperwork. Around 4pm - six and a half hours after my arrival into Kigali - we finally leave the airport grounds.

All three of us are famished, so after the obligatory stop at another shipping office to pay for the shipment to be sent, we stop at a local restaurant for some grub.  Edson tells them we'll take anything, and to just give us whatever they have ready. After all, we're late.  Our plates arrive, and my dinner consists of a well rounded balanced meal of pasta, potatoes, white rice, and cabbage. That'll do pig, that'll do.

We eat as quickly as we can and jump back into the jeep.  After a small collision (yes, that really happened.  But...it wasn't our fault and don't worry, we came out unscathed), we pick up a girl who has been visiting her sister in town, and all of us head for the border.

It takes approx. three hours to reach the border of Rwanda/Tanzania from Kigali, and we arrive well after the border should be closed.  However, there seem to be a few Rwandans still working in the office.  Edson talks to a few folks, we get our paperwork and passports stamped for exit, and the gates are unlocked for us and we are allowed to pass.  Easy peasy.  However when we reach the border to enter Tanzania, things are quite different.  The border office is dark; closed and locked up tight.  There is no one working in sight.  What to do, what to do?

"Well...we might just have to sleep here for the night", says Edson.

Um...excuse me what?  Sleeping at the border my first night in a conflict region in Africa was not on my agenda.  I start to play out a million and one nightmares in my head.  The men in uniform wandering around the grounds with guns are not helping.

Then, Edson makes a phone call. 2. 3. 4.  He knows some people and thinks he has some strings he can pull. Come, come Nichole. Bring your passport, and $100 USD.  We're going to try to get you your visa.  And if we can't, we're at least going to find someone to take your money and tell us we can pass through the gates...and then we'll come back tomorrow to officially get your visa paperwork.

oh great.  Crossing the border without my visa sounds like an AWESOME plan. (not).

After driving around some back roads, wandering through some sketchy village scenes to visit border officials at home and almost high centering the jeep, we get someone on the phone who agrees to come down to the office.  I am one lucky American.

Even though I am beyond exhausted and anxious, I put a smile on my face and do my best to charm the living crap out of the official.

What is the purpose of my visit in Tanzania?  Well, volunteering and vacation of course.  Have you ever been to the states before Mr. Officer? Oh, well we welcome you with open arms!  Oh yes, this is indeed my first visit to Africa and thank you...I too agree that visiting Tanzania first was the best choice.

After showering Mr. Officer with compliments and over-enthusiastic thank yous, I was given my multiple entry tourist visa, as well as a reminder of how lucky I am to come from a country that so many - including my Border Patrol Officer - would literally die for to live in.

The last hour of our drive we wind through a bumpy "shortcut" back road in the middle of the jungle, swerving around villagers at the last minute as they come into view with our headlights (why so many people are out wandering around after dark, I cannot figure).  As we pull up at WomenCraft, my new home and workplace, I am greeted by many happy faces who had considered us a lost cause for the night.  I am so tired and it is so dark that I don't even try to take in and process my surroundings. I stumble inside my new home, relieved that we have actually made it to our final destination.  I meet my new co-workers/housemates but am very brief with them before I head to bed.  I'm way too tired to function on any level.  I know that even though I am just meeting my roommates for the first time, they don't mind me being short with them.  They understand how draining the travel to Ngara can be.  And after all, the adventure has just begun...