Dom in South Africa: Hugs.

"Wheely-fun"

Mr Silverback, having a little R&R just before he decides to
run into us.

We are now halfway through our little drive around east Africa. Seven thousand five hundred kilometres later, Mitch still purrs like the day I first perched my bum on his soft greying seats. We remain malaria free, but are probably riddled with bilharzia from swimming in the irresistibly crystal clear lakes. Fortunately, we came prepared with a medical kit teeming with medicines, tinctures and voodoo dolls in readiness for such eventualities.

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The past few days have seen us cross into Uganda, where I spent about five weeks as a medical student as part of an elective in 2009. Between my last entry and now, however, we spent a little over a week in Rwanda. Again, I was last there in 2009. I spent a weekend clubbing, adorned in glow sticks and dancing until my legs felt like jelly in Kigali. It may not have been the most informative introduction to a country, but gave me a real flavour of the people and strong desire to return. The country was all it lived up to be; right now it is possibly my favourite country on this beautiful continent. I wrote an email to a friend at the end of last week and said this about the place:

“What the people of this luscious land have been through, namely: the genocide, is unbelievable. However, the nation has come out thriving after hitting absolute rock bottom. Over a million humans slaughtered in a little over a month – absolutely unfathomable. It is so deeply moving to hear the stories of loved ones lost and the humanity that has ensued to rebuild a nation.”

Kids that give hugs.

Rwanda could be described as a nation of orphans and broken families. True as this may be, it’s people, the Rwandanese, have united with great strength and humility. We were fortunate enough to stay with Peter and his family. Peter is about my age and the cousin of a friend from home. Never have I met a more enlightened and awesome human being. I shall say no more, except to my sisters: “I think you may like him.” *wink, wink*

Seeing the mountain gorillas on the volcanic slopes of the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo)-Rwandan-Ugandan border was without doubt one of the most magical and exhilarating experiences that I have ever encountered. But, you shall just have to do it yourself (and fork out the massive fee for the privilege) to understand what I mean. So, rather than write on and on about it, all I shall say is: “Go.” Don’t get me wrong, oh the gorillas were good, they were excellent, they were more than excellent; those super furry balls of fluff were splendiferous. However, they didn’t hug me (although, I have heard this isn’t an uncommon occurrence). Unabashedly, the most enchanting thing about Rwanda is how people greet: everyone gets a big hug, often on each side (like how the French greet, by throwing a kiss beside each cheek), with a warm and gentle handshake. If you know the person really well, there is a touching of the foreheads, almost akin to an Eskimo kiss. Imagine walking through a pack of twenty small school children and getting hugs from every single one of them – well that is what I did and I can say with certainty that it is truly spectacular. Fortunately, the salutations were confined to the villages as it would have made moving through Kigali, the capital, rather slow.

Myself,, Peter and his crew.

However, all this loveliness aside, there have been constant reminders of the strife that still beats in the heart of Africa. The regions that border the DRC are littered with UN (United Nations) refugee camps: a stark reminder of the plight of so many souls in the area; forced to leave their homes and live in tents for an indefinite time.

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We are about to start the return leg back to South Africa. One month in and I have developed a rather bushy little beard – I think it is a slight improvement on the moustache I grew.