( Photo Provided )
I’ve been in Kigali for two weeks – enough time to settle into my two-month journalism internship in Rwanda’s capital city. Here’s a slice of life from the land of a thousand hills:
4 a.m. Groan. Roosters cackle loudly. Roll over and go back to sleep.
7:30 a.m. Wake up. Tie up the mosquito net above my bed. I use it every night to prevent malaria. Luckily, mosquitoes haven’t bothered me much.
Tiptoe to the bathroom to shower with hot water. In a house of 10 people (student interns and working journalists acting as teachers) and three bathrooms, a warm shower is a luxury.
8 a.m. Breakfast. In Canada, it would be a massive bowl of milk and cereal. But, in Kigali, a regular-sized box of Frosted Flakes or Special K can cost up to $8 US.
I stick with toast, peanut butter and bananas.
Swallow my daily anti-malarial capsule and eat breakfast in between sips of water that has been boiled and filtered. Kigali water is treated, but we’re just extra cautious.
8:40 a.m. Climb the red dirt hill outside our house. Sweat under the beating sun. Watch my feet so I don’t twist an ankle in ruts or potholes created by the heavy rains of the rainy season, which is just ending.
8:45 a.m. Squeeze in the back of a 20-seater mini-bus. Four people to a bench seat is standard. Listen to the driver’s radio choice: usually reggae, gospel music or talk radio, as we speed along the pavement.
( Photo Provided )
Pay 150 Rwandan francs (about 40 cents) for the trip.
Pass a group of small cement shanties with metal roofs. Goats or roosters saunter across the road. Kids play and sometimes call me “Muzungu,” which means foreigner/white/rich person (depending on who you ask). They don’t say it with malice. I think they’re curious because they don’t often see white people. Some of them wave or run up to hold my hand.
9 a.m. Arrive at work. The editor and publisher
of the BLINK magazine live in one half
of the house and use the other half for offices.
Spend the day researching on the Internet, contacting sources and bussing 20 minutes into town to do interviews.
Journalism in Rwanda is challenging. Companies and individuals have much less of an Internet presence than in Canada. Only the main roads are named. People tend to identify addresses through landmarks, which can be tough for foreigners to find. There is apparently a phone book, but most people use cell phones. Luckily, if you don’t know someone’s number, chances are a friend or colleague does. Despite being a city one-million strong, Kigali is well connected.
2 p.m. Lunch. Like many other middle-upper class Rwandans, the magazine’s editor and publisher employ a cook. He makes delicious meals of stewed beef, kale, cabbage or carrots. It’s always served on a large bed of rice, potatoes or ugali, a thick Kenyan porridge made of maize.
5 p.m. Catch the bus home.
Ring the doorbell for the guard to unlock the gate. The house is guarded 24 hours a day. It is also surrounded by a high wall lined with broken glass (a practice now banned) and barbed wire in some areas. It’s a lot of protection in a city that is relatively safe. You often see the guard sweeping the porch or reading because threats are few.
6:30 p.m. Eat dinner, cold. The cook made it a few hours earlier. Heating it up is a hassle because I have trouble lighting matches for the gas stove.
Darkness falls. Gold and silver lights dot the hillsides.
Don a sweater to hang out with other interns on the porch (it gets a bit chilly after dark).
11 p.m. Bed.