No measure of time at the beach is long enough for a gang of work colleagues who have decided to take a midweek break, loosen up and explore a foreign country with a particular liking for its tribes of beer, gins not sidelined either.
After all, how many chances do mortal humans get to appoint themselves connoisseurs of alcohol, anatomizing beer, gin, whisky and their other siblings while pleasing their taste buds too?
My 3 colleagues and I had camped in Musanze – Northwestern Rwanda for about 3 days when we decided to ditch the laptops in favour of an evening away in Gisenyi-Rubavu, one of Rwanda’s largest cities and arguably the country’s best resort strip.
The thought of a beautiful sunset view by the beach, accompanied by the large Primus bottle or its slender counterpart – Amstel, seemed heavenly.
Unlike Kigali, the country’s capital which is situated in the relatively more upbeat central province, Gisenyi exudes an undisputed zen aura, complemented by its location on the Northern shore of the beautiful Lake Kivu, bordering Democratic Republic of Congo’s Eastern city of Goma.
Our choice of residence Red Rocks Camp – Musanze, was pretty relaxed too so the atmosphere in Gisenyi didn’t phase us a bit. What headlined our nightly conversations at Red Rocks’ glowing campfire was largely the stunning differences between the social and behavioral dynamics back home in Uganda and her neighbour – Rwanda.
Hitting the Road – Keep Right!
Our driver from Red Rocks camp in Nyakinama to Musanze town was an awfully quiet individual. Eyes on the road, a few peeks on the side and zero urge to participate in the topical discussions at the back of the van – soon deserving of the jalopy title.
The proverbial “clean streets” of Rwanda spread out as soon as we exit the T-junction, heading for Musanze town.
Middle aged women throng the sidewalks with produce baskets on their heads, men push bicycles loaded with local beer jerrycans on the inclines, college students exit campus gates with visible urgency and the general traffic rules seem to be well-respected – another huge difference between Uganda and Rwanda.
In Uganda we drive on the left, in Rwanda you keep right. First-timers subconsciously feel like it’s wrong and a crash might happen. It gets better with time though.
The coaster we boarded from Musanze bus station to Rubavu was a mess – not function-wise, the general conduct was so Ugandan; stopping at every stage, waiting for and picking passengers. After two and a half hours winding through the hills and valleys, we were in Rubavu. I learnt later that the journey should have been at most 1 and a half hours.
A conservative or overly policed beach?
Lake Kivu Serena Hotel towers over the calm waters and Tamu Tamu beach is right next to the Hotel’s private beach stretch. Entrance to Tamu Tamu was RWF 5000 per person and this granted us access to 2 bottles of beer. Mutzig was our choice.
Being right at the border of Rwanda and DRC, Gisenyi draws in people of different nationalities. Congolese were well represented by big spenders, wealthy Rwandese families were having a day out, confident youths swam in the shallows and then there was us, ushered into the evening by one of Juliana Kanyomozi’s old ballads, must have been Usiende Mbali.
I expected an extensive beach like the many back home, but the Tamu Tamu Bar and Restaurant lounge cuts off a big chunk of where people would be seated in the sand, enjoying a Heineken. We found a tiny spot that wasn’t occupied by the beautiful, fleshy Rwandan women. The beach was way too full for my liking but we made it work, somehow.
Awilo Longomaba’s tunes circulated the air, people grooving in their seats as they munched on their fries and fresh fish. Another round of the soft beer and a young lady was showing off her mad skills at parking a motor canoe. Once anchored, she stepped out with a smirk like she seemed to say “this is my thing, this is what I do.”
She reminded me of my first time on a jet ski in Kalangala, riding the tiny waves close to the shore and feeling like I was on top of the world.
The fourth round had me smiling wider, dancing shyly to a swahili song which must be from the era between the glorious days of Klear Kut and the East African Bashment Crew. I was tipsy enough to not care about its title.
By a quarter to 6pm, the guards were warning swimmers out of the water. I was surprised that people actually cleared out within a few minutes. I was disappointed by the level of lawfulness everyone exhibited. I started to reminisce my days at campus when Lido Beach – Entebbe was the IT getaway. I recalled how it took us over an hour to get out of the water after the third warning from the life guards. “I like Uganda better,” I mumbled.
By a quarter past 6pm, the beach was almost deserted. This is also because dusk draws in earlier in Rwanda compared to Uganda. I instantly missed sitting at Brovad Sands beach, watching the sun go down from 6:30 to 7pm and more minutes of a pink sky above Lake Victoria. I didn’t catch a single sunset the entire week, even when July is considered summer in Northern Rwanda.
My colleagues were just as high, laughing at trivial amusements, sitting in the sand and downing bottles like they were searching for critical answers at the very bottom. Darkness was upon us by 6:45pm, lights up and more music, more space to ourselves.
Before I finished making inquiries on our transportation back to Musanze, a familiar sound wrecked through the air. Finding a stool for my half-downed bottle, I arose with new excitement, my colleagues joining the wagon. “Hoozambe, hoozambe, Shifura”, yes, that’s the banger the DJ chose to crown our evening.
With the extra confidence from the one too many rounds of beer, we were dancing like no one was watching. We sang along, laughed, sipped and kicked. It was the ultimate treat for a bunch of Ugandans left unsupervised at the beach way past their should have been departure time.
At 8pm we tied the loose ends, cleared our balance and bottles at the bar, gave our bladders the much needed bathroom break and peeked at the waves one last time.
We took a walk back to the main road, past Lake Kivu Serena Hotel and jumped on boda bodas to the main bus station in Rubavu. One passenger per motorcycle is a rule and wearing a helmet is no compromise. Again, I missed the tipsy nights in Kampala; hopping from Casablanca Kololo to Otters, then to La Venti in Najjera for another pint of Tusker Lite to climax the craze.
I loved Rwanda; the welcoming people, the organized services, the great transport network, the food, the homemade yogurts (ekivuguto) but I was glad to be back home a week later, to the sunny mornings and extremely fun night life of Kampala.
I learnt a lot from strawberry and Irish potato farmers in Nyakinama, visited art galleries and the Volcanoes National Park in Kinigi. I devoured a well-roasted rabbit for ‘kiromore’ (last night) dinner at Red Rocks Camp, a great way to wind up an unforgettable stay.
I await my next trip to Rwanda, I have learnt of a less frequented beach on Lake Kivu – Palm Beach Resort, which should birth a new experience for me. Hopefully, I will also rent a car for flexible transportation. Till then, cheers.
