Parents’ Visit, Instalment Number One: Burundi

Hi. It seems like this is becoming a bit of a travel blog. I’m sorry; I’m rather negligent, and find that I only end up writing when something takes me out of the normal, such as travelling, which thankfully I tend to get to do a bunch of. And I guess I feel that life here has in fact become sort of normal, forgetting that aside from my parents who have just spent three weeks in Africa with me, most people still probably don’t know too much about what normal for me looks like.

Additionally, I have indeed been regularly posting on a blog, just not this blog. As the last post here directed, I’ve started a photo project that is updated thrice weekly and keeps me somewhat busy, in addition to being quite busy at work, and travelling frequently.

But as I mentioned, my parents did finally come to visit for three weeks. We had an incredible time, and did far too much to write about in a single post, so I’ll break things up into three instalments. Here we have:

Parents’ Visit, Instalment Number One: Burundi

November seventh was a propitious day. Firstly, it was the day I celebrated my second-year anniversary of being in Burundi, having thus far maintained my sanity (although this might be disputed in some circles), and in innumerable ways finding myself living a much fuller life than ever before. On November seventh I also celebrated the arrival of my parents, something that I had been looking forward to for, well, two years. As they walked off the plane onto the baking tarmac, I’m sure that they really had no idea what they were in for, but they know me well enough to suspect whatever awaited them would be an adventure.

We started out the week with a big party at my house, partly in celebration of their arrival, partly in celebration of my two years, and partly to christen the house (despite the fact that I actually moved in January, we hadn’t yet had a proper party). I’ll spare you the photos that dad took of the cook processing the goat, and will let it instead suffice to say that we had a feast replete with local delicacies: brochettes de chèvre, bananes cuites, samosas, saucissons, et bien sûr des fantas.

I think they also quickly discovered that there’s not a whole lot to do around the city, which suited us fine for we were soon on our way upcountry to see the real Burundi. On our way to Cassien’s home in the south of the country, we stopped and drank from the Source of the Nile. Now, each country in East Africa claims the true source. Burundi’s claim rests on the fact that they are the southern-most country inside the Nile Basin; all water inside the basin eventually drains into Lake Viktoria and then the Nile, while water on the other side of the mountains in the west and south of Burundi drain into the Congo River and eventually the Pacific. So, maybe we’ll all live forever or something.

The first day we set out to see the beautiful Karera Falls, where mom and dad were maybe a little unnerved that we were escorted by armed soldiers. My colleagues laugh that I can’t remember ever having seen an armed soldier in real life before I came to Burundi. Oh, except maybe in the US in Miami Airport after 9/11.

Day Two we went way way up in the mountains in Makamba Province, where Help Channel Burundi has two tree nurseries. 

After touring one and meeting a crowd of workers from the community who came to greet us, I asked around about a road that I’d heard rumours of, that would allow us to continue straight down the far side of the mountain chain instead of taking the same route back the way we came. “Um, yeah, it might go,” was the response I got from one of the workers, which meant it might be passable, but no guarantees; which, with a few rough directions, was enough to convince me it was certainly worth a try. And before long we found ourselves on a grass path very seldom solicited by vehicles, little wider than our Land Cruiser, and I myself was thankful that we were completely enshrouded in mist, because although it made it slightly tense, it would perhaps have been worse for the passengers had they been able to see what I knew was there- the thousand metres straight down the mountain into the valley bottom below! We did finally escape the clouds and realise just how high up we had been. (The photo below was taken when we had already almost reached the bottom)

Finally descended after two rather tense hours, we ate a nice fish brochette at a new establishment on the lake and headed back for Cassien’s house. (And I think that Cassien has never been more relieved to be home than after that trip!)

There’s a lot more to tell, but that’s the meat of it. My parents had a great time meeting my colleagues and seeing the office and a tree nursery; they met my friends who support me and keep me sane (or perhaps we go nutty together?); they ate at some of the nicer restaurants we frequent on weekends; enjoyed sundowners at one place that sits atop a hill and overlooks the city, Lake Tanganyika, and the mountains of Congo beyond; they lounged at home and enjoyed omelettes and fresh fruit juices; and of course they held pythons and teased the spitting black cobra at Musée Vivant.

Sounds appealing, n’est pas? Next installment: Safari!

Photo Project Launch

I just wanted to let everyone know that I have just launched a little photo project collaboration. It's really neat, actually; let me explain it a bit. A complete stranger in Vancouver who's name is Leah had been following my photos of Africa for a little while, and approached me via email to propose a photo collaboration. After a few weeks of correspondence, we've decided upon most of the details. Each of us will submit a current photo to the project every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, for the next 12 months (corresponding to the remaining time I will be in Burundi) which will then be paired together, aka a diptych, and posted to our photoblog, accompanied by a few sentences of reflection. The guidelines are written on the website, but the idea is that the pairings will be entirely spontaneous, each of us following only a general theme for the month. Although it will most certainly not always be esthetically perfect, the expectation is that some days we will be surprised by something profound, be it a moving juxtaposition, for example something showing the differences of life in Vancouver vs Bujumbura; or something surprisingly similar; or two photos that for whatever reason work really well together.

Although it might be difficult for me to keep current with photos due to the safety limitations I would face carrying around a massive camera on a daily basis in Bujumbura, I really am going to try my best because I find the project very intriguing. I am also looking for a way not just to show people more of what Burundi is like, but also to be forcing myself to be creative on a regular basis and to be looking for beauty in the sometimes mundane details of normal life.

So, I, along with my new friend Leah, invite you to come along for the ride. For now our project can be found at leahmeetsbrandon.blogspot.com. Bookmark it and check in whenever you get the chance, or add it to your RSS newsfeed. And please feel free to forward the link along to anyone else who might be interested.

Of Eyes and Ears and Apes: Vacation Part II

When we left off last time, my friends had abandoned me in Goma, DR Congo, after having spent the night on the rim of the very volcano that had virtually destroyed Goma six years before. What does one do, alone, in Goma? There really is only one thing to do: arrange one’s departure. Which is precisely what I did. My disinclination towards prolonging the stay was apparently not unfounded; after rumours that one of the rebel groups based just outside the city was in the process of rearming, they indeed did attack the Congolese military the following week. The fighting, which is still ongoing, is being described by the UN as some of the most intense in many months.

I, on the other hand, was able to procure a ticket for a seat on La Marionnette, a rapid boat ferry service connecting Goma at the northern tip of Lake Kivu and Bukavu at the south. That was an entire story in itself, but suffice it to say that after finally getting on board and embarking (much gratitude again to the brilliant team at World Relief Goma), I promptly scoped out the windows to ensure that I’d be able to fit through if necessary, and had determined that although we were closer to the Congo side of the lake, if for whatever reason I found myself in the water, I would instead elect to head towards Rwanda; and furthermore, that after a swim like that, I’d more than merit the brunch buffet at the Serena Hotel, and would not be even slightly deterred by the fact that all my money was at the bottom of the lake. 

Disembarking unscathed in Bukavu, however, I met a friend named Papa Pierre, the director of one of MCC’s partner organisations. After catching up a bit, he brought me to his cousin’s house where he had arranged for me to stay. It is quite evident that Bukavu was once a paradise of sorts: myriad multi-storied colonial mansions rise dilapidated from the steep sides of finger-like peninsulas, each one taller than the next in order to secure its view of the lake. Decades of neglect, corruption, instability, and urban migration, to name just a few things, have left it an overcrowded ramshackle town covered by a thick coat of dust. I really liked it actually.

Papa Pierre had prior engagements the first night, and I somehow found myself at a sordid little establishment with his cousin, Erasthon, three of his friends, and a goat’s head on a platter of boiled potatoes staring back at me. We discussed local politics and development, or rather the lack thereof, as I, with the local beverage of choice, quite literally washed down an eye and an ear and something else I couldn’t quite distinguish. It was over this pièce de résistance that we also thrashed out plans for the next day’s main event: a visit to the nearby Kahuzi-Biega National Park to observe the gorillas, one of the world’s rarest and most majestic species. Erasthon just so happened to be going away on business, otherwise he would have accompanied me. But he also told me that he just so happened to have an old army-issue Landcruiser and a chauffeur, whose services he would be glad to offer me as long as I’d put in some fuel. I was glad to oblige. And I was glad that the chauffeur, Aimé, very wisely had the two spare tires repaired that morning before setting out. And I was also glad that the vehicle, although old and more than a little beat up, proved itself to be practically indestructible. I say this because it took nearly two hours to travel the 40 kilometres from Bukavu to the park entrance, and before the day was done we would end up requiring both spares.  

Arriving at the park, I paid my $300 as well as the $20 for Aimé to join, because he had not yet seen the gorillas either. Four armed guides accompanied us, while a fifth waited with the vehicle on the main park access road. As it was still the dry season, and because the park is located in a mountainous region, we actually had to descend for several kilometres to find the apes in the marsh where they were feeding on roots. Then, after winding our way through overhead marsh grasses for 20 minutes, we entered into a small clearing and there he was: a massive silverback who struck in me the fear of God when he welcomed us with a fake charge, coming to a stop a mere two metres in front of us. There was also a female with five or so little fluffy babies bouncing around. We were given just over an hour with the gorilla family, which we followed throughout the marsh as they were going about their normal business. An hour with such a rare and magnificent beast in its natural habitat was impressive, to say the least; the simple fact that there was no fence or glass between him and us made me all the more conscious of his terrible strength, and of the wildness and wonderfulness of our planet. It also made me acutely aware of how much they stink (it was really quite unbelievable!).

That, in slightly more than a nutshell, encompasses my brief but excellent little vacation in eastern Congo. After being wonderstruck by the gorillas, I spent a bit more time in Bukavu, and then proceeded back to Bujumbura by bus. The ride was uneventful but for the almost unprecedented feat of making it through the borders of Congo, Rwanda and Burundi without the slightest hitch or anxiety.

The whole thing was almost too easy to be a real Congo adventure.

The Fiery Heart of Darkness: Vacation Part I

East Congo is not the first place that most people think of going for vacation, considering that the DR Congo is one of the most lawless countries on the planet and its eastern regions of North and South Kivu are the places where the indescribable depths of hellish human capacity find their nadir. Conversely, not too far beyond the main eastern border cities of Goma and Bukavu, one also encounters the beauty of raw wilderness, and not too much further still, wilderness untouched, ever, by anyone. East Congo was, however, the destination of choice for our motley crew of temporary Burundians and Rwandans. Partly because of our proximity to that great unknown, and because of the fires of adventurousness that had been lighted after hearing recent accounts from other acquaintances who had approached the fiery heart of darkness and lived to tell the tale, I found myself in Kigali with Seth and Trina packing our bags to set out. Destination: Goma; Objective: Nyiragongo volcano. With more than a little help from our marvellous friends at World Relief Rwanda and Congo, and the assistance and company of a few other illustrious individuals, we arrived and were escorted across the Rwandan border of Gisenyi into wild and hopefully wonderful Congo. What awaited, no one was quite sure.

Goma is still a bit of a wasteland following Nyiragongo’s eruption in January 2002, in which lava erupted not only from various locations on the volcano’s flanks, but also from a vent only a few kilometres from the city proper. Lava cut the city in two, flowing right across the airport’s runway, igniting aviation fuel stores and causing widespread devastation. Even still, the only real pavement that exists on the roads is actually lava, and grey soot covers everything else. The UN force actively holds the main roads in and out of the town, protecting from the various rebel groups that are all based just beyond, who, along with the military, unleash their terror on the pitiful, defenceless peasants as coercion for support. The part I wish not to think about is that they all want support from the same people, and have all adopted systematic, violent rape as a main tactic. Thankfully we weren’t going far from the city, and were in good hands with World Relief.

“Tourism” on the volcano had actually been closed for some time due to fighting, and has only recently been reopened. From where we stood, looking up at the cloud- and smoke-enshrouded summit, it was quite obviously going to require a good deal of effort to make it to the top. And that it did. The first half of the 2000m+ ascent was on loose, rocky lava flows that offered no respite from the hot equatorial sun. Reprieve in the cool of the jungle that surrounds the base of the cone came at the expense of steepness, and our ensuing fatigue was only compounded by the fact that we were missing the oxygen we had been progressively leaving behind at lower elevations.

And then, voilà! After a solid five-hour ascent, we were at the crater rim, and, looking down, there they were: the fiery bowels of the earth, somewhere where they normally are not: spewing forth into our surface realm. And they seemed angry to be there, what with all their rumbling and sulphurous smoke. It was probably the cold; at 3469 m, it really was frigid, and even the Canadian was complaining. In fact, some of us quadrupled up into a three-person tent for the sheer purpose of body heat. Yes, we camped on the rim. Right on the rim. It was actually the only spot possible. Somnambulists and those with small bladders were given a two-metre margin of error in the event that they unconsciously or semi-consciously exited the tent… But gosh, was it absolutely incredible! Seeing the molten lake of lava at the crater’s bottom, constantly boiling and exploding and lighting up the thick, rising column of sulphur; it really was everything you would imagine it to be, but more awesome still. 

And then in the morning, after coaxing our bodies out of our sleeping bags, we took down camp completely engulfed in sulphur, and we went back down.

My friends left me in Goma. But that’s for Part II.

Fonte d’Acqua di Ferretti

On Thursday I had the privilege of visiting the project funded by some of my friends in Ontario, headed by Mr Joseph Ferretti, but with many others playing important roles. Back in October they threw an amazing costume party attended by a couple hundred people, through which they were able to raise $1500 to construct a clean water source in a remote area in Northern Burundi. The project involved first finding a region in particular need, where people would typically walk several kilometres to fetch water, and even then from unsafe sources. Next, the community was gathered and was informed about the project, in order to hear their stories, to gather any ideas or concerns they might have had, and then to solicit their assistance in gathering local materials such as wood and stone. In this way a mindset of community ownership was fostered to ensure that proper care would be taken of the project. After the local materials were procured, construction began. First, the land was cleared around an existing source, in this case a small spring. A large, underground concrete reservoir was installed, which was then filled with special filtration sand and gravel, through which the water slowly percolates, issuing from the faucet clean and safe for consumption. The area immediately surrounding the source was reinforced with concrete and stone for easy access and longevity, and fenced-off to avoid the entrance of livestock. Additionally, a small concrete sink with two basins was constructed just to the side, with drainage away from the source. Lastly, community representatives were given some instruction about proper hygiene when dealing with water, and how to keep good care of the project.

It really is an amazing thing, to be a part of providing something so fundamental and basic, to a community that has almost nothing. 80 families live in the vicinity of the project, which means that roughly 600 people will now have access to safe water close to their homes. Their efficiency will increase because the women and children will no longer have to spend a good portion of their day collecting water; instead, they will be able to tend to other household responsibilities and cultivation. They will be better positioned to become economically self-sufficient, and they will no longer be so plagued by intestinal diseases, a major cause of infant malnutrition and mortality.

Thanks to everyone who played a part in this project. I wish you could see it for yourself (come out for a visit and I will take you there!). But please do understand this- you’ve changed the lives of an entire community. And they are grateful for it:
Severin NYABENDA says:
“Before this water project, we were fetching unclean water. When it rained, erosion brought garbage and dirt from the mountain, infecting our drinking water. We were suffering from intestinal diseases and other illnesses; but now, having this clean water, the cases of those illnesses have decreased. We are blessed in this region because we have clean water!”Euphrasie NSHIRIMANA says:
“You can not imagine the water that we were drinking before. Often it was coloured because of mud and silt. Our children were suffering from diarrhoea, but now we have a wonderful source of clean water. We can even wash our clothes in the sink beside the source without dirtying the drinking water. May God bless the providers of this water project!”

These kids are killing me.

Biddy Ball '04

(I don't know what his t-shirt means. Neither does he.)

Toujours en vie

Time for an update, methinks.

I’m now back in Burundi after a stellar month spent at home in Southern Ontario. A year-and-a-half is a long time; lots of things change, while lots of things stay the same. It was hard to leave it all behind again: family, friends, open spaces, delightful food, cooler climes (despite having complained of being too cold most every day), fast Internet and in general things that work as they should. En revanche, it’s also good to be back with close friends here in Africa. It’s good not to be too cold all the time. It’s good to be back doing something that makes a big difference to the wellbeing of so many impoverished and vulnerable people. It’s also not too bad to be on the beach every weekend. No, despite some of the sacrifices that must be made to be here, life certainly isn’t unbearable.

I missed a serious little bout of fighting here in Bujumbura while away, during which my friends watched rockets and tracer bullets lighting up the sky over the city. Things have since calmed, and just today an unequivocal peace deal was signed between the government and the last remaining rebel group. This is being lauded by many as the last step to sustainable peace in the war-ravaged country.

Upon my return I asked one of my Burundian colleagues if he had ever been scared. He responded somewhat fatalistically, “No, if a bomb would have fallen on my house, that’s it. There’s nothing I could have done.” However, four large rockets exploded not far from the home of some of my other friends, and they said that they had indeed been very scared. We’ll continue to hope and pray and keep our fingers crossed that it is indeed the beginning of something new.

However, and I interrupt, I did just this very moment hear two explosions, one after the other, loud enough to indicate they were likely not farther than a few kilometres away. Which opposition MP's house is being grenaded tonight, I wonder? And life goes on in Bujumbura. For most of us anyway. 

Canada

Best party: welcome back with an Africa-shaped cake right off the plane before I even had the chance to shower (the pleasure was all mine!)

Best quote: as asked at a neighbouring winery, “Do you decant in Burundi?”

Best meal: four-way tie between The Keg with Robyn, Pow Wow with Goose, a decadent little French affaire for Mother’s Day at home, and The Keg with my best friends (you all treat me far too well.)

Biggest change encountered: almost all of my friends now own houses.

Prettiest sight: other than my mother, Niagara in bloom:

Pretty In Pink

Beauty in Rags

2008

It certainly has been far too long since I’ve last made an appearance here, but I’m back in Burundi after a salubrious holiday in Tanzania, and 2008 is in full swing.


There are at least three events that deserve recounting, the first being the trip to Kigoma, Tanzania, during the holidays between Christmas and New Year’s. Travelling overland to Kigoma always turns out to be a wonderful and beautiful adventure, and it somehow always ends up truly being an adventure. Not too long after our departure from the city, the underside of Matt’s Subaru became intimate with one of the many small boulders one finds on the road south of Bujumbura, and the car developed a nasty vibration that became almost deafening at speeds above 30 km/h. Hopping into the repair pit at a decrepit “service station” in the nearest town, and with the assistance of a multi-tool and a large tire iron, we were able to pry away from the rotation of the transmission the metal guard that normally acts as a barrier between the exhaust system below. Et voilà! après cela, tout allait bien. Good as new and back on track. We spent the rest of the journey lapping up the breathtaking expanses of the verdant Tanzanian plains as we cruised along the remote, sanguine dirt road that led us onward to Kigoma. And, as was expected, Jacobsen’s Guest House did not disappoint. As is customary, newcomers were initiated with the Tour des Sautes on the cliffs adjacent to our isolated beach (see Seth in perfect form above. Seriously, he must have been a gymnast or something...)

Piggyback!

One new item on the itinerary this time was, thanks to Matt and Rebecca, a two-hour boat trip north to Gombe National Park, wherein which one is permitted a profound, up-close-and-personal glimpse into the lives of a group of chimpanzees in their natural habitat, the very same apes with whom Jane Goodall spent much of her time. Some more photos can be seen here.

The second event was the recent arrival of the vehicles purchased for Help Channel Burundi during our trip to Dubai in November. After passing through the exasperating formalities of importation, the vehicles have been washed, tuned, and prepped with Help Channel logo decals (thanks to honorary Help Channel member Mr Joseph Ferretti).

Third was my recent move, into the house that I’ll occupy for the remaining duration of my time in Burundi. After two weeks, it already feels like home, and I am very content. It’s in a “gated community” which means it’s secure and calm, and the house staff are talented, honest and conscientious. I share the house with a good friend Duncan, who spends the workweek upcountry, beyond the reach of telephones and electricity, and commutes into town for the weekends. We geek-out about botany and classical music, and he teaches me all sorts of interesting British-isms. I’ve occupied myself reading with a cold beverage in a nice chair on our covered patio, I’ve been doing some extreme gardening, and I’ve even been (gasp!) walking around the neighbourhood. The poverty, overpopulation, insecurity and diesel fumes don’t usually lend to great walking conditions, so it’s a real treat and somewhat of a liberation. PS- spare bedroom available for any visitor on their way through…

So, 2008 is in full swing and I have little doubt that it will be the best yet.