Sunday, December 13, 2009

Transit in Rwanda consists of buses, taxi-sudans (which we were advised not to get in), taxi-motos, and your 2 legs.  So, sometimes you have no choice but to jump on the back of a taxi-moto (motorcycle), say a prayer, and hold on tight. Not going to lie, I thought I was going to die my first ride.  It was Friday night in Kigali and I was with my friend from the village traveling from the central bus stop to her home.  I tried my best to conceal my desperate panic as I mounted with my big backpack.  I couldn't figure out how to tighten the helmet and soon it was too late as we accelerated off up the winding part gravel/ cement roads! After being shrugged off by the driver I realized it is inappropriate to hold onto him, but through the wind coming at me at god knows how many miles per hour I could distinguish his faint sadistic chuckle that said, "Stupid foreigner". Since Friday I've taken 2 more motos, I'm not going to call myself a pro but I've certainly learned to balance myself with a tad more grace, contain my screams, and keep my hands to myself.