Day One:

“Attention passengers. We will be landing in Kigali, Rwanda in aproximently 15 minutes. Thank you for flying with us today on RwandAir.” The loudspeaker on the plane crackled with the announcement, jolting me out of a light sleep. I have been sitting on this plane for the past 22 hours, and I am about to go crazy. Glancing out the window, I notice dry, barren lands, with the occasional house or village speeding by. I could not wait to be off this plane, and into Rwanda, land of a thousand hills. 

“We are now in Kigali, Rwanda. Please exit safely and have a great time.” I jumped out of my seat as soon as the airplane stopped, packed up my stuff, grabbed my brown suitcase, and ran out of the plane, happy to finally be free. First thing on my list of things to do: GET FOOD! I was starving. I hate plane food, so I haven’t really eaten anything good in the past 22 hours. I stopped by a man selling passion fruit juice. Yum! I bought a bottle of the stuff for 68.9000 Rwandan Francs(10 cents in US dollars). It was the most delicious, mouthwatering, flavorful juice I ever tasted. I also got two bananas for 34.4500 RWF(5 cents in US dollars) each. They were so tasty, I ended up buying four more. I knew I would have the chance to taste many more bananas in the next week. 

The next thing I had to do was find Adrien Niyonshuti. He was part of Team Rwanda, and he knew how to drive. So he would be picking me up and driving me to where I am staying. It was already 10 PM at night, but it felt like only 12 PM, because Rwanda is 10 hours ahead of California. I was tired though, I had barely slept on the plane. People all around me were talking in Kinyarwanda, shouting and yelling and laughing to each other. As I make my way through the airport, people come up to me and touch my hair, my arms, my back, and my legs. They try to grasp my hands, but they are curled around my suitcases. Some stare at me, some hide behind others. I keep walking, trying to just get out of that place. Little did I know, people were everywhere, and they would always be curious about “the strange man.” 

To be honest, I was a little scared of all the people. I had never seen so many people in one place, except for maybe New York City. To make matters worse, I had no idea who Adrien was, and where he would be picking me up. People all around me were touching me, poking me, and staring at me. I was so close to shouting at the top of my lungs, “I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU PEOPLE ARE, BUT PLEASE STOP TOUCHING AND POKING ME!!! I AM NOT THAT MUCH DIFFERENT THAN YOU EXCEPT I AM FROM AMERICA AND I DON’T SPEAK KINYARWANDA!” But, I didn’t. First of all, I doubted anyone really knew a lot of english, and second, I’m not that rude. But I was really loosing it. 

“Muraho Tatym!” I heard from somewhere amongst the crowds of people. “Karibu!” I hoped that was Adrien, and I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t really respond. I knew two words in Kinyarwanda. Mwaramutse and Muraho. Mwaramutse means Good Morning, and Muraho means hello. While I was pondering over what to say, a tall, slender man, wearing a Team Rwanda bike jersey walked over to me. “Muraho Tatym. Nitwa Adrien Niyonshuti.” 

“What?” I questioned. 

“Oh right.” Adrien responded. In English! “Sorry about that. I forgot you don’t know Kinyarwanda. You better learn fast, I am one of the only team members who can speak English well.” 

“It’s ok.” I told him. “Let’s get going though. I want to get out of here and all these people. Adrien chuckled. “Oh Tatym. There will be people everywhere. Rwanda holds many people, all who will be interested in who you are.” 

“Oh.” I mumbled, disappointed. Then I though of something, and brightened. “But once I get to my hotel, there won’t be as many people there, right?” Adrien looked puzzled, then anxious, then sort of, I don’t know, sad? “Your hotel room? You don’t have a hotel room. You will be sharing a house with Abraham, Obed, and me.” My feelings sunk. This trip so far has been less then great. “Whatever.” I grumbled. “Lets go. I’m, um, tired.” Adrien led me through the sea of people, saying hello and other things(in Kinyarwandan), as much as possible to the other people. But surprisingly, the people didn’t glare, or roll their eyes, or cursed when Adrien bumped into them. No. Instead, they smiled and said hello back. People were nice here, I realized. Not like in the United States. I got into Adrien’s car, and relaxed, ready for the hour long ride to where I am staying. 

I think I fell asleep, because the next thing I knew, Adrien was shaking me. “Get up and out of the car Tatym.” He said, right into my ear. I did. The first thing I noticed when I got out, was the smells. It smelled like smoke from garbage burning, meals cooking, and rain. Adrien led me to his house, which I noticed was made from clay and scape of tin. Inside the house was four straw mats, blankets, and baskets. The house was small, but surprisingly comfortable. I put my suitcase against a wall, laid down, and drifted off to sleep, thinking about what mysteries the next few days would hold.  

Day Seven

 I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of hyenas crying in the distance. The moonlight bathes the small clay house in a soft milky light. I stretch my aching muscles and sit up. I can hear people all around me tossing and turning, moaning and groaning in their sleep. Someone shouts out something in Kinyarwanda, something that sounds like Ndagenda, or I am going. The sound pierces the sky, as if an arrow has been shot through the air. I freeze for a moment alarmed at the noise. Then realizing everything is ok, that everyone is ok, and that the world is not coming to an end, I roll off of my straw mat onto the floor of the hut. I push myself up into a stand, and being careful not to step on the other sleeping members of Team Rwanda, I walk out the narrow door into the night. 

My alarm on my digital watch beeps, telling me I have to end my walk and get back to the hut where I have been staying this past week. It is five in the morning, which means I have forty minutes or so until the sun rises. My plane is at nine, but the airport is over an hour away. I slowly walk back to the hut, making sure to take in every wild flower and every footprint in the dust. I wish I could take all of Rwanda back with me, but of course, everyone knows that is impossible. As I near my hut, I can smell goat meat cooking. That must be Adrien, Abraham, and Obed, three of the Team Rwanda members, cooking breakfast. I have been sharing a house with them this past week. I didn’t know they would be rising this early. They must be going on a 30 mile bike ride, and they want to get an early start before it gets too hot. I enter the small house and look around, probably for the last time. Grabbing my stuff, I pull out my passport and airplane ticket. I am row D seat 6.

 It turns out Adrien, Abraham, and Obed were cooking breakfast for me and the rest of the team members. They all wanted to share a final meal with me before I got on the road. Part of the team wasn’t here, they took a flight to Spain to compete yesterday. Right as the sky turned orange and pink, and the golden sun started to rise, Nathan and Basore showed up. They said “Mwaramutse”, which means good morning, and joined us sitting down in the tall, dried grass. We passed the goat meat and bananas, along with the best sweet potatoes I have ever tasted. I will never get over how good they are. After our breakfast, and watching the sun rise, I told the five guys “Ngiye kukibuga cy’indege”, which means I have to go to the airport. But before I could take one step in the dust, Adrien stopped me. “Turajye.” he told me. In english, that mean we are going. “Iki?” I told them, slowly turning around. Iki means what. Adrien repeated himself. “Turajye.” 

 The one and a half hour car ride to the airport was full of laughter. We talked about our past week biking all over Rwanda. We talked about the beautiful sunsets and the one rainy day we had. We talked about people, places, and things. We talked, talked, talked, and talked. The whole way, I stared out the window, looking at the villages speed by. People stopped and stared at us, just like on the way to the village where I stayed. Before I knew it, the car stopped. Adrien gave me a “Rwanda Hug,” as I like to call it. He grabbed my shoulders, and I did the same to him. Then, we brushed heads, first on one side, then on the other. I did the same thing with Obed, Nathan, Gasore, and Abraham. Then Adrien and I did it again. I waved goodbye to my three teammates/friends, and disappeared through the double glass doors into the airport. 

 Exactly one hour later, I was on my plane, sitting in row D seat 6, next to a nice old man, who’s name was Bernard. He had just finished telling me his story. “So.” he said to me. “Where have you been? What have you been doing in Rwanda?” 
 “Well, it’s a long story.” I told Bernard, 
 “We have time.” Bernard answered me. 
“Well, I was biking with a team… here, let me start from the beginning.”

My Visit To Rwanda: Trailer

This is the trailer from Rising From Ashes that really inspired me. It is great that regular people in Africa get the chance to do something not a lot of other people get to do. They get bikes, and chances they wouldn't have if it wasn't for their athletic ability and Team Rwanda.

My Visit to Rwanda: Map