Lake Kivu and Beyond

I greeted Iak and Neill this morning when they went their own way. My mission for the morning is to get some info on traveling down south the Lake Kivu. First stop was the harbor to hear about boat connection but after two guys told me its US$ 30 I laughed them off. I raced back to the taxi-park to hopefully get the taxi at 12:00, one told me it going, the other said its not. But at last it rocks up and I’m 2nd in the que for a ticket. Destination: Kibuye. I don’t know how to do justice in describing the landscape. Rwanda is famous for the ‘Land of a Thosand Hills’ which is close to the Rwenzori mountains, but this is it man; welcome to the gazillion hills. Its so beautiful… Lake Kivu, cultured volcanic lands, forest and fields meeting hand in hand…

Twin Volcanoes

I came into the town late that night so I had no appreciation for the Lonely Planet’s description of my lodging of ‘great views’ over Lake Kivu. I just went to bed. I woke up early cause I went to bed early and…

‘You’ll be rewarded for your efforts (it was quite a walk) with good measure of peace and tranquility’ continues the guide book. Even if I was a distinguished poet, I would struggle to find words to describe this sight. Home Saint Jean is situated on one of the points of Lake Kivu as it etches into the mainland and therefore I have a full-on 180’ panoramic view of the Lake. I have thus far only admired this from the road, but now I’m on it!

Lake Kivu

Its 6:43 and I am surrounded by tropical birdsong (I’m trying to soak in every moment). A white–chest raven just made a loop in a downward spiral before disappearing in the forest. Oe-oe-oe-ahh is relayed by a sharp Kaaa! the birds speaking in their native tongue; they have not been colonized or ‘civilized’. Now I’m looking at the water surface. Usually there is a distinguishable ebb-and-flow, but this water almost ripples upwards; as if pushed by a great, unseen force. There’s not much beaches here; the forest literally reaching the waterfront. I wish I could call these birds and flowers by their name proper, but as Shakespeare (R&J) said, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose; by any other name would smell as sweet."’ (thanks Iak for that one-liner the other day!) So I will call this one white-chest raven, and that one over there, hanging suspended between water and sky, ‘Red crunched petals with a splash of yellow’; that one is more complicated, (hmmm) ‘Purple Trumpet’ it shall be.

‘Allah Akbar’. The muffled prayer call from the mosque is absorbed by the land.

written by

afrikawasbeer on December 15, 2009 from Kibuye, Rwanda

from the travel blog: Traveling Africa Overland

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