Recently, I had the opportunity to travel from Kigali to Bujumbura. It was not on a journalistic mission, neither was it on personal or commercial reasons. Rather, one of my colleagues happened to be playing his part in international relations. I was part of the delegation. The love of his life was introducing him to her family which resides in Bujumbura.

The night prior to the journey, I prepared well. I ensured I had as much money for the Buju fun and as light luggage as possible. The bus journey from Kigali through Butare to Bujumbura was of the ‘don’t worry, be happy type’ - it should have taken six hours, but somehow took ten.

For starters, the minibus in which I was to travel arrived early at the pickup venue. However, due to various factors ranging from slow packers to those who overslept due to hangovers, we had to wait another hour before everyone was aboard.
Being a big gang of mainly colleagues and friends of the guy to be introduced, there was immediate banter and chatter.

On the way from Kigali, we passed through Kamonyi District.  Among its prominent sites is the reminder of the horrible 1994 Genocide against Tutsis in the form of a memorial building. I realised that everyone aboard the mini bus was hungry when we reached Butare town.

The hunger however did not stop us noticing the proximity of the National museaum as one enters the town. I should confess that personally, I was famished just like the rest. As we picked our colleague based in Butare, we went in search of something to appease our empty stomachs, it accounted for another hour before we continued on our journey.

The mini bus crawled over the Rwandan hills until we reached the Rwanda-Burundi border known as Akanyaru. Unfortunately, we found two buses had arrived earlier before ours. Matters were not helped with many trying survival for the fittest stunts thus creating confusion and further delays. It took us a whole hour to finalise the entire documentation. 

Moneychangers were the usual pressuring bunch, shoving money and calculators into my face, but I have gotten used to them by now. The best tactic is to just raise your voice with them until they stop shouting at you, then ask them to calm down, laugh, and they will laugh, and calm down. Then, pick one, and do business with him.

I have actually come to enjoy the whole process. Having spent all these hours travelling, one would think that Bujumbura is just around the corner from Kanyaru but that was not so. In spite of the good road, we had travel for another  two hours before sighting the capital city.

The journey from the border to Bujumbura was particularly beautiful, in spite of the fact that we were tired. The hills of Rwanda seemed like mountains when compared to those of Burundi, which are  often uncultivated while  covered in forests.

Burundi has just come out of civil war. However, we travelled without fear because there is little rebel activity throughout the country now.The journey finally drew to a close with a final half-hour descent into the flat plains of Lake Tanganyika, beside which lies the city of Bujumbura.

Descending into the lakeside capital of Bujumbura I was able to view nearly the entire city from the cliff side. Bujumbura has a very relaxed atmosphere which is a bit surprising since Burundi has had a violent history since achieving independence in the 1960s.  

Across Lake Tanganyika, Africa’s deepest lake, there lies the DR Congo which is protected by an endless wall of mountains. The first thing we did was to find the cheapest hotel we could, about 10,000 Burundi francs a night. Rates at most hotels here start at 15,000 Burundi francs because of the UN/NGO workers that have flocked here during and since the war.

No doubt the beer prices are the only thing that have not seen rampant inflation since then, making life less expensive for ordinary Burundians who generally love their beer. Having only one night to spend in town, we decided to try out what the night life had on offer.

A friend we met there got us free entrance into a night club that adjoins another one called Club Vision and fortunately, that night we had the company of many girls from Rwanda that had come for a wedding in Bujumbura, so we thought we were not a prime target for the many hookers in the club.
But we were wrong.

They flocked around us, rubbing and caressing, and were particularly persistent. I talked with one for a while, a young girl, who had come here not to dance away the night but to try her luck in hope of hooking a rich guy. She told me that in this club they have a door policy where anyone (female) who is considered to be too fat, or ugly, or badly dressed is turned away.

Since, I was just asking purely for the sake of it, I returned to my bed alone that night, or was it morning. Trouble began when we tried to trace our way back to the hotel. In Bujumbara, according to what I saw that night, it is very difficult when it comes to moving at night. People take taxis for even the shortest of distances.

One of us after having one bottle too many, moved around the entire town trying to trace our hotel and ended up paying 10,000 francs for a taxi ride, only to return to where he had left us clubbing. This was because he could not pronounce the name of the hotel (CEPRODILIC) which was merely 500 metres from Vision night club where we were.

Even after spending only one night in Bujumbura, it is not hard to notice the change in temperature and the discomfort of the mosquitoes. It is at a much lower altitude than most cities which makes it so hot, and the combination of the rains and the nearby lake make it a great environment for mosquitoes.

This is why in Bujumbura, mosquito nets are given much more priority than the quality of the beds and the beddings and it is a cardinal rule to have one in every hotel room. 

The following day before embarking on our journey back to Kigali, we explored the many white sand beaches and while enjoying a 2000 Burundi francs boat ride, I made enquiries about getting a boat to Kigoma, in Tanzania.

I was told that passenger ships no longer make this journey as they have been attacked by pirates who operate on the lake too often.

So that said and done, I ended my journey through the mountains by boarding the very mini bus that brought me back to the land of a thousand hills, smiles and The New Times. Memorable.

Ends