East to West Rwanda

We had a great stay in Akagera, although the game lodge was undergoing refurbishments and having a small problem with running water (meaning there were only certain times of the day you could access it and the swimming pool was only half full), the beautiful setting, good food and attentive staff more than made up for this.We did have a minor disagreement with the general manager over bank charges on an international transfer but this was quickly resolved in our favour and didn’t mar our stay in any way. I’m definitely planning on coming back here once their refurbishment plan is complete and they’ve sorted out their waters but I won’t be paying by international transfer.🤣

On Friday morning we set off early to cover the four and a half hour journey from Akagera National Park in the East to Volcanoes National Park in the West in our quest to explore more of this most beautiful country and perhaps find Gorillas. The journey took us back along the same roads we’d travelled three days previously, through Kigali then on to the unchartered Western territory towards the Ugandan and DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) borders.

After we’d navigated the ever busy roads of Kigali and were climbing steadily towards the mountains of Volcanoes National park we both started to feel hungry and in need of a stop, stretch and comfort break. The scenery, if possible, was even more beautiful here and we passed the usual constant traffic of extremely overloaded motorbikes, bicycles, women and children going to collect water or take produce to market. We still cannot believe what can be fitted on a motorbike, pushbike or human head and are constantly amazed by each ones capacity. Our record for the motorbike is three adults and three children or three adults, two children and a goat. The pushbikes carried everything from numerous water receptacles to tonnes of bananas but probably most impressive was a double bed complete with mattress and tools to assemble. This might not be quite so remarkable if it wasn’t for the gradients they were pushing them up. Rob estimated some of them at up to 20% and they seemed to continue for miles in a car let alone pushing a bicycle up them.

Anyway, I am totally digressing from my (possibly favourite so far) lunch story.

Not a lot looked hopeful as we passed little clusters of houses in this fairly remote area but after about ten minutes we saw a cluster of red buildings with red Coca Cola plastic tables and chairs outside. It was called the Sheraton bar and looked fairly promising so we decided to pull over.

As we got out of the car a young man came out, we asked him if they were open and he confirmed that they were and could provide drinks and food. He sat us at a table and we enquired what was available to eat and drink. Drinks, as usual, were fairly straightforward. His English was quite limited but for food he listed chicken, goat, rabbit, fried potatoes and several other items which we didn’t clearly recognise. Being my usual unadventurous self I opted for chicken and fried potatoes and Rob, equally lost by the translation, chose the same.

As he was walking away, rather than going towards what we could see was the kitchen, he detoured via his phone, made a quick call before descending some steps, rolling up his sleeves and scrubbing as if for a major operation. Rob and I watched with interest while pretending not to and speculating as to why he didn’t yet seem to have placed our order.

After several minutes of washing, our host eventually approached the kitchen. Rob was facing that direction and observed him converse with the chef before a large machete was selected and careful sharpening commenced. I meanwhile, was facing the road and saw a teenage boy approaching the gate with a lively cockerel under one arm. I nudged Rob to bring his attention to the latest arrivals asking him to please tell me that the restless bird wasn’t our lunch.

As the teenager approached the kitchen our host walked towards us explaining that lunch might be a little while as there was some preparation to do. Unable to contain the question I asked him hastily if the colourful, very much alive cockerel was to be our lunchtime fare. He assured us that it was and wouldn’t take too long.

In one mind and as quickly as possible (being very aware of the cockerels proximity to the machete) Rob and I explained what a dreadful hurry we were in as we needed to reach Ruhengeri before dark. The fact that it was still before one and we were well over halfway through our four and a half hour journey luckily escaped him and he informed the cockerel courier that his charge had gained a reprieve and sent him back with a small spring in his step.

Our host was very understanding particularly when we left him a large tip along with payment for our drinks. As we took our leave he pointed out the telephone number on the large entrance sign and told us to call ahead on our way back so he could ensure our chicken would be ready.🤣🤣

I know I’m a farmer’s daughter and have seen the odd cockerel killed before on more than one occasion (Steve – if you’re reading this then you’ll know at least one time I’m referring to) but mine and Rob’s loss of appetite was unanimous. We just couldn’t face having made eye contact with our lunch on his way to our table and were happy with our decision.

We continued to Volcanoes National Park with rumbling tummies but lots of laughter as we recounted the different stages of our lunchtime adventure and unfolding realisation and enjoyed the even more beautiful, mountainous views.