Burundi

I am arriving to the border between Rwanda and Burundi. Everyone is talking to me, wants to know where I come from, how many countries I crossed, etc... I have never met so much enthousiastic people on the road ! The customs officers are really nice with me and it is in an party atmosphere that I am starting again to climb the slopes, this time in Burundi. The trucks are passing and each time I can see on the back of the trucks young people who hang behind and let themselves drawn by the bike... to avoid sweating. I have to say that their bicycles don't have any gears like mine, which seriously interfere with their task… ... Here, it's really an another world. I have the feeling that I reached the heart of Africa, the true one, the pure one. People are working in the fields and the majority are flabbergasted or it's a standing ovation and I'm going by with a round of applause from people smiling at me and putting their thumb up. The children are very happy to see me, always surprised and they are sometimes scared and are going hide under the tents (It's a big change for me after the ethiopian children who throw me stones all the way...).
The Burundi just came out after a 12-year civil war which has devastated the country and forced people into exile. Later I will cross a lot of new villages of refugees, along the lake Tanganika. Every day after 4 p.m., the roads are barricaded in the cities and the circulation stops. I have to reach villages or centers before the evening because the soldiers leave at 4 p.m. and the rebels take possession of the roads during the night. The day, safety is very good and the evening, I take a room and I share a meal with people. I am spending a nice and unforgettable evening in company of army's captains, professors and trucks drivers who are explaining me the history of Burundi while offering me beer after beer... At the end of the third one, after having driven nearly 100 kilometres in the mountains, I am collapsing on my bed...
After having climbed again and again, I'm now on the top of a mountain. People are telling me that I have now 35 kilometres downhill. I'm used to people telling me that there is no more uphills and I don't believe them anymore... But this time, they are true ! It's a long and nice downhill which is bringing me to the capital.

I am crossing the stronghold of the rebels and every 50 meters, there is a small group of soldiers. The night, they disappear and the rebels hold these main positions. A non-ending story... I am stopping and I have to take part to a pictures event.... The soldiers want me to make them famous by taking photos... The FNR is the only party which refuse to give back the weapons and in no case wants to sit down next to the new president, ex-rebel as well but a Hutu, the principal tribe in the country. The FNR belongs to the tutsis; apparently the Netherlands have provided the funds at the time, but now all the rebel groups have laid down the arms, which makes this last group outlaw as everybody is dreaming of peace and economic development. During my last night in Bujumbura, the FNR bombarded the city in the North-East during one hour without making any victim, only one wounded soldier. They want to show that they aren't dead yet and that the fight goes on for them.Probably not for long, well I hope so for the Burundians and peace.
Bujumbura, the capital, is a nice city at the edge of the lake Tanganika, I am chilling out a few days quietly and I am enjoying life there. The first day, a pickpocket is trying to go through my pockets. To tell this story, it's necessary to explain my present state of mind. Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi are countries very populated, a bit too much for a small cyclist like me. It is impossible for me to camp because there is people everywhere. It is very difficult for me to find a place in nature to relieve myself without someone looking at me. All the day people call me "Hey Muzungu"! (Hey the White man!). It is often in a good spirit and never aggressive. A lot of laughters, sometimes mocking, sometimes admiring, but seldom do I spend 5 minutes in peace without someone talking to me. With time, my nerves are on edge and I am dreaming of some private life and especially some quietness. Also people ofen ask me for money, simply because I am a White man, therefore rich, very rich... and increasingly richer than the locals who drive in cars of more than USD 50' 000. But well, these people are black, so not as rich as me... of course. Sometimes as well, they try to make me pay more than I should. Not all the time, there are also a lot of honest people who understand and respect me. Well let's return to our story: On the road, a child is coming right on my way and is stopping in the front of me. Immediately I am feeling that the situation is not normal and I know that something is happening, so I am pushing him and at the same time, I am feeling a hand in my pocket where is my money. I am catching the arm and I am discovering a young man of a little more than 20 years old which is looking at me with large eyes. (Here they speak French) Then I am saying to him: You, you really chose the wrong person to do something like that! With a sharp stroke, I am twisting his arm and making him fall.. With my knee I am immobilizing him and I'm calling the policemen who are patrolling by car... Well, the police is not in hurry and when I am standing up, the police officer isn't doing anything to arrest him. I am tearing off the shirt of the guy who is fleeing and shouting on the police officer. Suddently I am seeing at least 20 policemen and militaries who are coming out from nowhere and who are catching the poor young thief. Hop, going to jail. In my life, it is the third time that somebody is trying to steal the money from my pockets. The first 2 times I let the guy go, scaring him, but this time I don’t let go anymore... In Africa, life is a jungle, and nobody helps you out, especially when you are a White man. So don't expect me to do so... The captain is coming to me, congratulating me and saying :"you are a good fighter ! We need people like you to secure our streets..." But everywhere there are soldiers and police officers, what are they doing ?? ... Later, I am learning that the policemen have the bad reputation to be heavy drinkers and they are always too drunk to do anything other than drink and ask money to people at each police check-up...

The city is nice, the beach is good for me, I am spending the time of my stay in company of Marianne, a burundian-somalian girl living in Rwanda and in company of Daniel and Ingela, 2 Swedish cyclists, friend of Stellan, an another swedish cyclist I met in Addis Abeba. But this city is a large one and after a few days, I'm glad to set out again. After a few minutes on the road, an accident is happening under my eyes. A car had ran into a cyclist with a terrible violence. Nobody is moving and the poor guy is lying unconscious in the middle of the road. I am doing the first-aid and when the police is arriving they are asking me to push him off the road as quickly as I can. Because he is disturbing the traffic !!! The man's head is bleeding and blood is coming out of his ears. when I heard the impact, I thought the car hurt a motorbike because the noise was terrible. The back of his head destroyed the windshield of the car. He's probably got a cerebral commotion and I and 2 other people are transporting him like a vulgar bag of potatos in the back of a taxi, going to the hospital. Here life doesn't have the same value as in our countries, especially when you are poor... Along the lake Tanganika I'm feeling like I'm on "vacation" (sorry for the sarcastic joke...), I remember myself driving along the Adriatic Sea in Croatia. The landscapes are like a postcard and I often have the impression to have the sea in front of me, but no, it's the lake Tanganika, the fiirst source of fresh water in Africa and the second in the world, after the lake Baikal in Russia. Palm trees, banana trees and also the finest sand beaches you can only dream. So good !!! I am sleeping in a protestant hotel hold by a real true african mama and I am meeting a lot of people and also militaries of the U.N. who I already saw in Bujumbura. Everywhere in Burundi, the safety is assured by the U.N. which tries to maintain peace and control the democratic elections. The following night, I am sleeping in a house of UN peacekeepers who invited me in Bujumbura. Food is excellent and I am spending a nice evening with a Tunisian major and a peruvian one. I am also enjoying to swim and rest because I will have a hard time afterwards (but I don't know it yet). In the area, the UN recently investigated on the death of a child. The fishermen throw him in the water to make a gift to the sea, the one that nourrishes them. A sacrifice, the child drowned... Across, in Congo, people talk about cannibal villages near the coast. Because of war, a couple of years ago, people ate each other in order tu survive. Here reality takes a different form that the one we know... To arrive to the Tanzanian border, I have to climb again mountains. Only 24 kilometres, easy I am telling myself.... Under a blazing sun where the engines of the cars are heating because of the uphills, it's everything but easy.... I am arriving at the top exhausted and half burned by the sun. After a good meal, people are telling me that I'm only 20 kilometres away from the border but that I have to get a stamp in my passport already here. The road is stopping and the 20 kilometres to Tanzania are only a catastrophic lane that follows the refugees camps in a splendid but terrible landscape for a bicycle.... People don't speak any more french, but speak to me in Swahili, the language of the East Africa, I have to learn a few of it now because where I am going, almost nobody speaks English.... I am passing under a barrier, continuing for some kilometers (one hour or two...) and passing again under a barrier. Then a guy in t-shirt is stopping me and is saying: "Welcome in Tanzania, I'm the immigration officer". Ah, I am in Tanzania, there's no flag, nobody, even the official buildings blend into the simple houses..... The customs officer wants to se my passport and my notebook of vaccination (if I don't have one, I must pay to get one, welcome in Tanzania, where the police officers are very well known to be very corrupted). He is asking me from which tribe I am, I am answering: "citoyen du monde" (in english: citizen of the world). He doesn't understand so I am spelling it for him and he is writing it down in his official register... Here it is like in Kenya, a lot of tribes, but here they live in peace together.