Rwanda, Burundi, Zaire

Goma -> Mt Karisimbi -> Bujumbura -> Lake Kivu -> Burundi -> Bukavu -> Goma -> Nyiragongo -> Mt. Karisimbi (Virunga Moungtains), Rutshuru -> Goma -> Ruwenzori Mts -> Rwindi NP -> Kayna -> Beni -> Mutwanga -> Ruwenzori Mts -> Beni -> Kabasha Escarpment -> Rwindi -> Kigali -> Goma -> Ruhengiri -> Karisimbi-Maheno volcanoes -> Kigale -> Burare -> Bujumbura

As you can see from the list above, we wandered all over this part of Africa, Passing in and out of Rwanda, Burundi, and Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo), looking for (and finding) gorillas, peering into volcanoes, and climbing the legendary Mountains of the Moon. Lots of hitchhiking, lots of border crossings, and no tourists.

Goma 2. Mount Karisimbi 3. Bujumbura 4. Lake Kivu 5. Burundi 6. Bukavu 7. Mount Nyiragongo 8. Rutshuru 9. Rwindi 10. Ruwenzori Mountains 11. Kabasha 12. Ruhengeri

5 October 1977. Base of Mount Karisimbi Zaire.

Sitting and resting in our tent after a quite strenuous seven hour up and back summit climb - 4507 meters. We started the climb yesterday from the Goma-Beni Road, and finally rounded up a guide and a porter by 1:15 PM: the official the Virunga Park guide was somewhere else, and no one knew where the key to the hut was (hence the tent) - about par for Zaire. We were very tired yesterday evening after a four hour walk through shrubs and stinging nettles, but today was better. Saw our first chameleon on a bush! Also a beautiful sunbird: iridescent, green, head, and back, narrow purple throat band, scarlet chest, patch with yellow at the corners, and gray belly - spectacular (This at the second hut, about 3800 meters). Took many pictures of the ascent and descent: marvelous obelia and groundsel, much richer than Mount Kenya; views of Nyiragongo to the west, Mikeno to the north, and, three others to the east, stretching off into Rwanda. Our guide went up barefoot, with no food and a tattered coat. - tough bugger. We kept him going with peanuts, rum, sugar drink, and chocolate from Kenya. Now we are really set for the Ruwenzori.

The drive yesterday from Goma to the base of Karisimbi was interesting in that the road passes right over last January 7's lava flow, which emptied Nyiragongo's lava lake in just a few minutes and wiped out a whole swath of country just north and east of Goma, missing the town by only a few kilometers. We saw the remains of a VW bus parked by a couple who were climbing the volcano when it sprang a leak - total right off, including their dog that they had locked inside to guard. Now the park officials won’t let tourists go above the point where the lava poured out, owing to the unstable nature of the mountain. The last of the lava Lakes, and we missed it by only nine months.

I forgotten where I left off in the old diary - presumably somewhere in Rhodesia? Let’s begin then from Hwange National Park, a fine park and a good deal (rented a car for two days for about $25). Took many bird photos in the aviary at the private lodge near the park entrance, and tried a roll of b&w on elephants, kuda, sable antelope, zebra, giraffe, etc., mostly around the park watering holes. We saw leopards both days, right on the road, one snoozing at about 5 PM, next day near a water hole at 2 PM. Hwange is dry and scruffy, and we went for miles without seeing anything. - a proper African park. The campsite was of course, brick, with hot showers and the lot, but practically empty, as all good things are nowadays in Rhodesia.

We convoyed to Victoria Falls next, at one point riding in the back of a pickup truck with a mounted machine gun and its operator. Once again, a beautiful, empty campsite. The Falls were indeed impressive, but no more so than from the Rhodesian side, I would say, probably because one's first look is most often the most impressive. Got quite drunk and ripped with the guys who gave us a ride to Victoria Falls, and together we decided to walk past the barrier to the bridge in the dead of night.- a stupid, dangerous, but exciting evening. We splurged a bit the next day and took the plane ride over the fall, up the Zambezi, and across the national park – 15 minutes of giddy motion that left our stomach unsettled for the rest of the day.

Hitchhiked to the Botswana border, for a good argument with the official, who wanted to stamp our passports on entry, thus nullifying the effects of all our hard work. Turns out he just wanted to push us around a bit. Why do people get much pleasure in power? The ferry was broken at Kampala, so we camped once more at the lodge near the Chobe Park entrance, and made it across the next day. The hitch back to Lusaka took two days, and included a dreadfully long ride on a tractor combo, the back of a pickup hauling dry goods, and finally a missionary in a Mercedes who talked about horse jumping and related equestrian topics, with nary a word on his profess purpose for being an Africa.

Lovely to be back in Lusaka with Genevieve; each night we would stay up late playing blackjack or I Doubt It with another French couple from Northern Zambia and a fellow whose wife was in France on vacation; we played by candlelight in the courtyard, because of the blackout regulations imposed by Kaunda the previous week - rumored to facilitate the landing of war supplies at the airport. Our hosts thought it might last months, but in fact it lifted the day after we left Lusaka.

Couldn’t find anyone to buy my camera, but Genevieve connected me up with a gentleman in the French embassy who took a personal check and gave me back kwacha at 2 1/2 to one: more than three times the official rate. Then we hustled to buy our tickets : Lusaka- Nairobi - Bujumbura- Nairobi - Aben - Kuwait - Tehran - Kayo- deli- Calcutta- Rangoon- Bangkok (Nicole’s ticket includes Tehran - Paris - Tehran). Total cost: about $1200. (value: around $3500.). The travel agent balked at the last minute, and sent me to the Zambia National Bank, who sent me to the manager of Barclays, who got all nice and confused, forgetting it was a question of my not having official exchange receipts, and called back to the travel agent, arguing with him over the irrelevant point of what percent of the tickets would be used by Zambian Airways. So late Friday afternoon, we got our tickets, to fly off the following Monday morning, our reservations, which we made in Johannesburg, still holding good.

We ran across Kaneki, and had two separate meals with him, one at the Intercontinental - he was really pleased to see us, and begged us to accompany him on his last hunting safari - If we hadn’t planned to fly off on Monday, we probably would’ve gone with him. He was still waiting for the bank of Zambia to free his funds so he can immigrate to South Africa, but the wait is in its third month now, and the bank is still holding tight. Good luck, big K.

We breathed a big sigh of relief when we finally flew from Lusaka - the atmosphere in the capital was tense, with the military everywhere, and flights out were hard to come by. We flew right past Mount Kilimanjaro, but it was mostly obscured by clouds. Amboseli looked rich and red below us. Ann was so happy to see us, she actually started crying - she and Roger are truly our closest friends now, and we are trying to arrange a vacation with them in Nepal, or Sri Lanka, or Bali? Nicole immediately got busy dying pants and shirts, while I put a hole and another pocket in the tent. Now that Roger is safely ssconce in his new, highly paid job, the Hills have splurged a bit and bought a new stove, a new fridge, a new 504 station wagon and lots of smaller goodies. They seem to be having the time of their lives.

We saw Scott and Bardie one evening for dinner, spent the night in their new apartment (four floors above the first one), and took a drive through Nairobi National Park the next morning before being driven to the airport for our flight to Bujumbura. Scott’s job seems to be ill defined at best; he sort of hangs around, waiting for people to come to him with their problems, and does his patient best to get them thinking about computers. He works Saturday mornings, and Bardie has found a job teaching I]in a fairly progressive private school, so they are back in the mainstream of human activity. To no one's surprise, they have dived deeply into birdwatching, with typical Wallace thoroughness, and are now on intimate terms with most of the birds in Williams' book. How I marvel at Scott’s memory and attention to detail! They say now that they cannot imagine going anywhere anymore without including birdwatching on the itinerary. Funny thing: Ann and Roger are hooked as well - they each described a bird they couldn’t identify in Tsavo before they had even said hello to us again!

Paid a visit to my gem dealer and told him to get a lot of stones ready for my return in a month. Also saw Karl in town, but he seemed less interested in selling me tanzanite: he doesn’t like it, mainly because it is so soft. I may still deal through him when he’s back in Germany, however.

The flight to Bujumbura was about three hours late taking off (Air Zaire - you guessed it), so we missed the spectacle of the Rift Valley and Lake Victoria by air. Spent the first night in town in a hotel, and then located Madame Passant, a friend of a friend of Nicole’s, who lives right on Lake Tanganyika. We arrived on a Sunday, just in time to be invited to a fish fry for about a dozen local friends. We really pigged out. She lives with her son (about 18.) and daughter (13), and they made us feel immediately at home, driving us around town, showing us the hippos that walked by their house every night, fixing for us, the Burundi specialties of ground up palm nuts and manioc leaves, entertaining us with movies on their home video recorder. We stayed about three days with them before pushing off for Bukavu, which we managed to hitch in one day, including three border crossings (Burundi – Zaire, Zaire – Rwanda, Burundi - Zaire). Lovely scenery through rolling hills, green plains, mountain peaks far off to the west. Bukavu is ideally situated on the southern end of Lake Kivu, spilling out into the lake on innumerable peninsulas, Hilly as San Francisco, and exploding with people. We stayed with Bob Whitehead, a non-Mennonite Mennonite volunteer who teaches in the local school, and makes a lot of money, drinks a lot, smokes a little, and intends to stay, but doesn’t really like the people. We spent some good evenings with him, eating steaks, and drinking booze, and even did the nightclubs with two French volunteers. I think there are only about 15 foreigners in Bukavu, so our presence was a bit of a novelty for Bob and his friends.

We went to search for gorillas at the park, a few kilometers away, and cut glimpse of a half dozen or so in a tall tree - even took a few black-and-white shots. We were row at three separate times while approaching the animals, and each time the guide started to run away - how to instill confidence in tourists. We later learned that two of our guides have been bitten by gorillas, one in the ass and one in the eye, so I understood their nervousness a little more now. But I still think it’s mostly their fault - technique for approaching the gorillas to start cutting the intervening bamboo and shrubs with as much noise and commotion as possible. They all carried sticks as well. - no wonder the gorillas got pissed off at them.

The chief ranger at the park headquarters, after discovering that I was from the States, called me into his office and tried to sell me first a bottle of gold dust, then trunk full of about six fresh elephant tusks. It’s that same old story…

Coming back from the park, the bus stopped to cool it brake linings where two small gorillas were kept by park officials, and I took a few photos of them; cute little guys, especially one of about one and a half years old, who climbed right into my arms to be held with a look of bliss in his face.

We hitchhiked to Katane the next day to stay with Miriam, the Belgian doctor we had met while climbing Mount Kilimanjaro almost a year ago. She lives in a lovely home overlooking Lake Kivu, has two horses for riding, plays tennis, swims, and gets paid well! Most of her doctoring is concerned with malnutrition, the big problem, surprisingly in this part of the world, where everything grows effortlessly, but people eat only beans and maze of habit.

A fellow doctor drove us the next day to Goma, a spectacular ride along the western edge of Lake Kivu, sometimes right beside the lake, other times high above it on a narrow mountain road. We saw tea, coffee, sugarcane, fruits and vegetables of all sorts, growing all over the rolling hills and occasional plains, but surprisingly few villages. Near Goma we passed a corner of Lake Kivu which had been cut off by a not so ancient volcanic flow for Mt Nyamuragira (1948?, forming a pretty lake and effectively stymied the efforts of a small Greek colony on its shoreline to develop a rival port to Goma. The road, then turns east, crosses the same lava flow, and enters Goma from the west.

We had lunch with our doctor and an Italian friend at the Hotel des Grand Lacs, which I mentioned because of the amazing menu it had to offer: lobster was available at 200 Zaire (about $250 at official rates). Our lunches cost a more reasonable 3 Zaire. We stayed the next two days at lodging run by two Catholic sisters, Where bed and breakfast was three dollars per person - cheap for this country. The town itself is just a wide street bracketed with shop selling Zaire made prints, which Nicole took immediate advantage by purchasing one for a shirt and two for sheets. There was a bakery and a butchery in town, plus a local market selling the usual tomatoes, onions, bananas, pineapples, etc., plus some big, beautiful mushrooms, so we ate well in our little room - in fact, we had the best steaks we found in Africa (four times in all).Zairean

Goma is a fun town to walk around in, especially the lakeshore road, with its beautiful Belgian homes (now almost all in Zairean hands), and splendid view of the calm, wide lake. Behind the town Nyiragongo dominates the horizon, looming up like a huge black slag heap, only a few kilometers from the city. When we headed off from Mount Karisimbi, we passed through the January lava flow. (Oops, already mentioned that.)

Oct 8, 1977. Rutshuru, Zaire. Happy anniversary, Sam and Nicole: you’ve been in Africa exactly one year today. Never has a year been so full - and we are both even more excited about the years to come. Traveling as we are turns out to be a pretty fine way to pass the time; and if we can have this much fun in Africa, the rest of our trip should be a pushover.

What is surprising is how many different styles of travel we have tried, each with it’s good and bad points; and it is the variety that keeps us going. Traveling with the combi was ideal for Kenya and Tanzania, for it would have been impossible to visit the parks any other way, but otherwise the car is a constant worry and strain, and we never regretted selling it when we did.

Hitching with backpacks is also a gas - we meet more people that way, yet we are still independent enough not to have to depend on hotels and restaurants (Nicole just made an amazing calculation: we’ve eaten about six restaurant meals in the last three months, and spent maybe four nights in a hotel or a rest house!). And of course, the backpacks are indispensable for the hikes we have made and intend to make (correction: not indispensable - The local porters are so cheap, about $1.50 a day, that we probably could travel with a suitcase in this part of the world without too much trouble. The problem is carrying all our stuff from town center to outskirts, or from the end of rides to campsites, etc..)

We left Goma this morning by truck as far as a coffee estate about 50 km from Goma, where we had hoped to catch a ride to Beni the next day - It didn’t pan out, but the guy was nice enough to drive us to Rutshuru this afternoon, where we will have more of a chance grabbing a truck tomorrow morning. I am sitting in bed beside Nicole in a room rented by the Catholic priest for $1.50 a night, listening to the rain and thunder (the first we’ve had since Bujumbura), and hoping tomorrow is a fine day. But if it isn’t, so what? We have plenty of time to get to the mountain and back, and this mode of travel is what we find ourselves in - never knowing about our next ride, the next town, the next spot to sleep - is strangely comforting, and we feel we are getting a lot more out of this beautiful and little known peace of Africa than otherwise. Oops, it just started raining like hell again.

Oct 18, 1977. Goma, Zaire. Back again to Goma, on the last leg of our journey. I am sitting in our little hotel room rented by two Catholic sisters, where we have stayed twice before. Before me is the ever faithful Optimus 00, boiling water to put in the thermos for coffee or tea this afternoon. Nicole is just about to go into town with the two Dutch fellows with whom we have been traveling for the last week - Jon and Edward. We met them the second day of our hike in the Ruwenzori Mountains, and arranged to travel with them at least as far as Kigali, splitting petrol and food costs. It is an arrangement that has worked out quite well so far, with several meals to our credit, and the chance to get to know some good old boys from a nice old country; it has also saved us a lot of hassle and time, for hitching in this part of the world is not very easy, nor very comfortable.

These guys bought a new long wheelbase, four-cylinder Land Rover for about $12,000, and started last April. They crossed the Sahara in June (!) among the last vehicles permitted, via the Hoggar Mountains, to Ouagadougou, then east through Benin, Nigeria, Cameroon, Central African Empire, and Zaire. The worst roads they encountered were north of the Zaire River: steep, tilted, slippery, lousy, bridges, etc. They were lucky to find petrol in Isolo at the official price of 1/2 Zaire per liter, after changing money at three Zaire to the dollar: cheaper gas than in Europe! Now they are headed for Tanzania, across to Malawi, down the west coast of Lake Malawi to Blantyre, over to Lusaka, and north through Tanzania, Kenya, Sudan, and Egypt. Good luck on the last two countries: we know of people waiting 2 to 3 months for permission to travel by car through the Sudan.

All this springs to mind another possible African trip (when the political situation in several countries improve): Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, then south to Kenya, west to Uganda, and into eastern Zaire. (alternately, directly from the Sudan to northeast Zaire.). Hitch to Kisangani, then take the one week boat ride to Kinshasa. Now you are stuck: fly to Cameroon ($$$) or go only three days down the river, and turn north into the Central African Empire. Either way, you are in West Africa, and can head north across the Sahara and back to Europe. I’ll save this trip for another epoch…

To catch up with our movements a bit: we found transport in an open Peugeot truck across the Rwindi Park, stopping briefly at marvel at the marabou storks on the roof, and the absolutely tame elephant walking amongst the workers dwellings, totally ignored by the workers themselves. Then on across the beautiful, flat, green plane of Rwindi, full of Uganda kobs (our first), buffalo with wide up-curving horns, topi, and elephants with really big tusks. The road climbed steeply up the Kabasha Escarpment, affording a magnificent view of the plain, stretching off to the flat shore of Lake Idi Amin Dada to the north. Our driver took us to the small town of Kayna, the loveliest African village we have ever seen: round and square thatched huts, each in its own clean yard surrounded by tidy, green hedges, with well-planned footpaths amongst the homes. I took about a half dozen photos of the town, I was so taken by it.

We were invited to lunch by an African family, and enjoyed ugali, fish, greens, and tea. Then the local English teacher, who was educated in Uganda, Took us to the hut of Anne Hensley, a PCV from Tennessee, and a very nice person. She gave us a great dinner and arranged a place for us to sleep in the home of a neighbor. We talked with her until late at night about travel, and got her all keyed to see some more of the world before she returns to the States next July. She had been in Shaba Province when the revolt broke out, and was very distressed to have to change her locale. She knew Parker pretty well, and had him pegged pretty accurately; she also knew Tony, the PCV rep – and had met and traveled some with Stuart and Sandra Jean! Small world. Anne told us that Sandra Jeanne learned that her mother was seriously ill while she and Stu were in Arusha, and flew back home immediately. We wonder what has happened to them since then.

From Kayna we hitched (after a four hour wait!) in a Greek's brand new Mercedes, all the way to the Mission near Beni. He was a great old guy, giving us chocolate and cookies to eat, and stopping along the road to buy us fresh strawberries (about a kilo for 20 makuta), Japanese prunes (ellipsoidal, reddish fruits with pulp like a passion fruit), and A curious little green fruit and paper coverings, which tasted something like grapes, but more tart. Delicious.

From the mission we hitched in the back of a merchants delivery truck to Mwanga, at the base of the Rwenzori Mountains, a distance of about 70 km, taking about four hours for the trip. This last leg was what convinced us to travel with the Dutch boys…

Naturally, arranging to climb the Rwenzori Mountains was a hassle, and a bit of a rip-off. The park entrance fee was 20 Zaires per person, lodging in the huts one Zaire per person per night, and porters one and a half per day. So far so good. But then, after contracting for two porters and the obligatory guide, I learned that I must pay for their food as well, and the list they showed me totaled 38 Zaire! A kilo of salt, 5 kg of rice, fish, several kilos of manioc flour, matches, cigarettes, 2 L of oil, etc. etc. I reduced our porters to one, which brought the price down to 22 Z. I should’ve dropped second porter entirely, since he was only able to carry a few kilos of our stuff, what with the vast amount of food he had to carry for the guide and himself. Ripppp...

We started our first day at about one in the afternoon, climbing through cultivated fields of sugarcane, bananas, manioc, coffee, and vegetables, to reach the guide's house a few hours later, at an altitude of 1700 m. We spent the night there rather than head for the first hut at 2200 m, and the next day climbed all the way to hut number 2 at about 3500 m, where we caught up with Jon and Edward. It was a lovely climb, first through thick forest of bamboo and tree ferns, then onto an amazing trail, completely woven out of trunks and roots, with carpets of green and yellow moss on either side, and low trees shading us from above. It rained a bit this second day, but only enough to keep us cool.

The third day we passed through the moss trail and into the high altitude zone of the giant lobelias, seneca, and groundsels, straight out of Tolkien, with beautiful long-tailed sunbirds watching us with curiosity. This was for me, the most beautiful part of the climb, and I went wild taking photos. We arrived at the third and final hut that afternoon, at an altitude of 4200 m. The sky, which had remained overcast since the beginning of the hike, became even more threatening, and so we were unable to continue to the ice fields, nor even see the peaks, although several lakes not far away were quite visible. Jon and I climbed a little peak that same afternoon to an altitude of 4480 m, about the height of Mont Blanc, and returned to the hut before the rain set in.

The climb back was an ordeal at best, especially with the trail now wet and slippery from the night's rain, and we actually made slower time returning our last day then we did ascending on our first. We were all sore from the unaccustomed strain, and mentally exhausted from the attention we were forced to give every foot placement. Not an easy, nor even a very pleasant, descent, but still the most amazing vegetation I have ever seen in a mountain environment, and five days that I won’t easily forget'

We stayed once more at the Catholic mission near Beni, the Father once more pissed off the night before and cheerful and smiling the next morning, and then began the slow drive back along the “Route de Beauté“, from Beni to the Kabasha Escarpment, certainly the most beautiful stretch of African scenery we have yet seen. We stopped briefly to say hello to Ann, and camped for the night right on the equator (a long-standing plan of Jon's). The next night we stayed in the drivers quarters at the Rwindi Park headquarters, 6 Zaire for the four of us, although Jon and Edward slept in their car (and were disturbed by the elephant during the night). We saw a herd of perhaps 75 elephants in the park, stopped to admire several hippos in the river, and even scared three giant forest hogs: the first Nicola and I have ever seen.

And so here we are back in civilization. Last night we did a big wash, and celebrated with one hell of a meal under the stars: paté and bread for starters, steaks with fines herbes, cauliflower with cheese, a salad of leaks with oil and vinegar dressing, a dessert of apple tarts, and a good cup of drip coffee. I almost forgot the 3 liters of Primus beer. Burp city.

Just finished Erich Fromm's The Art of Loving, and it got to me, especially the description of the many attitudes and behaviors which pass for love in our times; a book to reread. Tried to get through a bit of Nietszsche, but find his style not worth the effort. Now reading Niebuhr's radical monotheism and western - culture - difficult, but he writes clearly, and has some important things to say. I’ll probably stick with it, at least until I get something else

Oct 26, 1977. Chez Mdm Pessina, Bujumbura. Through an incredible screw up on the part of Air Burundi, we are delayed a full day on our Nairobi departure, much to Nicole’s joy - she’s sitting by the pool right now, reading a good French classic she found in the bookshelves. I’m not taking it too hard, either – I’m sitting at a picnic table in the backyard, in the shade of a bright pink flowered bougainvillea tree, watching the two Crowned cranes struck their stuff, ready to snap a few b&w photos if they get within range. Behind me, Mrs. Pessina's three parrots are whistling and shrieking, while less than 40 yards in front I hear the roar of Lake Tanganyika, heating up for the early afternoon's display of wind and waves. The sun is out, and feels hot – the first real heat we’ve had in a month. But now that the rains have finally arrived, and we can expect, a short medium shower every day in this part of the world.

It turns out that we were extremely lucky on the weather this past month, for the rainy season began one month later than normal. We had only a handful of rainy periods in the last four weeks, not counting the practically permanent rain of the Ruwenzori mountains. Good for us, but bad for the farmers: nothing is growing, and people are feeling the crunch of starvation in the most poor and populous part of Africa. We even had no water for bathing in Kigali at the mission.

The biggest adventure of the last several days was our second attempt to see some gorillas, this time successful as well. We drove from Ruhengeri to the park headquarters, paid our six dollars each, and headed off to the area between the Karisimbi-Makeno volcanoes and those further east. This time we had to scramble a bit, following gorilla trails through the vines and bamboo, often times on all fours. We found a male after about 1 1/2 hours of walking, and he gave us the customary shriek, and permitted me 2 photos through the bushes at about 30 yards before he took off. For the next two hours we tried to see more of this fellow and the rest of his group, but all remain hidden in the undergrowth, although we were at times less than 10 yards from them. Plenty of chest pounding and tree shaking, and a nice atmosphere. The guide, kind of marred the day by trying to steal money from the blue bag, but I caught him in the act. Poor fellow.

We slept off the road between Ruhengeri and Kigali, and reached the capital next morning, where Nicole relaxed in bed, suffering from a mild case of travel exhaustion, and I hustled up some transit visas for Burundi. Then it was goodbye to our Dutch friends, who must wait for Tanzanian visas for the trip down Lake Tanganyika (perhaps by boat, if they can find one) to Malawi. We took an insane taxi to Butare which shook us has never before; we vowed once more to stay away from African public transit when we could.

Whereas Kigali is a true hole, with nothing to see and an atmosphere of imminent ripoff, Butare seemed calm, pleasant, friendly, accepting. We met at the grocery store a Canadian fellow who promptly invited us to his house, where we ended up staying two nights and a day in great comfort and warmth. Michelle Kabay and Wendy Schleman were delightful hosts - he a madman full of energy and ideas, a complete nut on his HP 67 calculator and his collection of recorders, she a calm, constant presence in the background, not to mention a fine face and figure. They live with another couple, Michael and Judy Bopp, who are fairly recent Bahai missionary arrivals, and former British Columbia community farmers. Had a nice roundtable discussion on foreign aid, what to do about Third World countries, and I pushed the question of the morality of telling other people, no matter how ignorant, what to do. Great fun.

The Butare Museum was a little gem to visit, with some great black-and-white of the royal family and their amazing traditional hair arrangements - The Tutsis turn out to be an exceedingly noble and handsome race of people, especially their faces. Nicole found and purchased two woven trays in the traditional geometric design, black lines on white backgrounds, for about four dollars each.

On to Bujumbura the next day, arriving around lunchtime chez Mdm Pessina, with a great sigh of relief. Nothing has changed here, except the air is perhaps clearer, the mountains beautiful and soft across the lake. Our second day here is thanks to (we think) Air Burundi, which didn’t forward to Air Cameroon the number of passengers who will get on at Bujumbura for Nairobi. Hence, since it was either us or the minister of transport's chauffeurs, we got bumped, after a delay of seven hours, and three separate embarkations of the passengers to Nairobi. Then the Air Burundi man told us to go ahead to the hotel, where he would shortly join us to arrange for our lodging. That was the last we saw of him. A good way to leave this part of the world forever.

Never mind – I had the chance to photograph, in color and black-and-white, about a dozen of Mdm Pessina's statues and masks. Bill Wright will be happy to receive them. Soon I go to the outdoor zoo to photograph (I hope) the horned chameleons; and now we will be able to buy two beautiful baskets we saw at the airport. (Nicole bought one from Mdm Pessina’s boutique for about two dollars - she is so nice to us!)

The flight back was uneventful, and we were back in Nairobi with Ann and Roger. For the next week we rode around with Genevieve Gandy, who flew in from Lusaka just as planned. We took her out to Nairobi National Park, then took the train down to Mombasa for four days at Twiga. Saw Liv and Carson again, and finally got to know something of them when they passed by our banda one evening. His visa extensions will run out in a few few months, and he’ll have to leave Kenya. He has no plans for what to do next, and prefers things that way. Liv doesn’t know yet either, but may well go back to Norway - her kids are there with her husband.

Made a mess of skin diving, thanks to stormy conditions, which in fact dumped a load of rain on us our first afternoon and evening at Twiga. Lost my Omega and skinned my right shin badly enough to require oral antibiotics, and the wounds are only now healing. Still, all in all it was a restful four days, and Genevieve seemed to enjoy it a lot. She had arrived in a bit of a mental state, with divorce on her mind, and the coast at least permitted her to relax a bit. She had a great day in Mombasa with Nicole, buying spices cloths, and doodads for her deprived friends in Lusaka.

Back to Nairobi by train, we once more hit up Nairobi National Park, this time after the rains, with absolutely spectacular lighting, clouds, and cooperative zebras: a b&w paradise. Found a bunch of rhinos, lots of ostriches, including about 50 chicks, plenty of eland, and the usual tame buffaloes at the entrance. A nice game park visit.

Parks visited thus far are:

Kenya: Nairobi, Masai Mara, Amboseli, Tsavo East, Meru, Marsabit, Nakuru, Shimba Hills, Mt. Kenya, Mt. Elgon, Samburi/Isiolo, Watamu
Tanzania: Serengeti, Lake Manyara, Mt. Kilimanjaro, Ruaha, Ngorongoro, Arusha, Tarangire, Mikumi
Zambia: Luangwa Valley (S), Luangwa Valley (N), Luambe, Lochinvar
Botswana: Chobe
South Africa: Kruger
Rhodesia: Wankie
Zaire: Kahuzi Biega, Virunga, Rwendi, Ruwenzori
Rwanda: Volcanoes

Total: 33

Paid a last visit to my gem dealer, and bought about $140 worth of rhodolite and tsavorite from him, and sent it off in a film container to Irv. Also asked Irv to place an order for $1000 worth of rhodolite, the first of a (hopefully) regular series of (hopefully) profitable shipments between Kenya and the States. It sounds awfully good, but you never know… Pohl, whom we saw once more in town, told us he had been relieved of about $2000 on a purchase of phony stones in Malindi, and he’s an expert who has been in the business about six years already.

We mailed off a load of stuff to the States: materials, Bird books, filter, baskets, etc. - about 8 kg. But, after packing up for Ethiopia, we discovered our backpacks were still pretty full, if only a total of about 35 kg. The best event was the arrival of Ken MSR stove the day before we left for Ethiopia. It works like a champ, and weighs much less than the old Optimus, which I sold to Mdm Pessina for a decent price.

The Hills through a bash Saturday night for about 80 people, with drinks, great rice and curry, salad, and three flavors of Roger's homemade ice cream. The rain spoiled the outdoor lawn setting, but we hard swingers didn’t drop until 5 AM. Then up again for a drive to Naivash (me by private plane!) , where it poured again, and back to Nairobi on a road north of our usual route, and much more scenic. A rough last two days in Kenya.

Ethiopia turned out to be a disappointment, because everywhere, but the Rift Valley Lake is off-limits to tourists - in fact, we saw virtually no other visitors during our five days in Addis. At least we got some shopping in: great hand woven and embroidered shirts for each of us, a basket from Gambella in the west, and some Ethiopian Airlines posters. The city itself is a mess, with filth, shit, and piss everywhere, lots of gross-out beggars and cripples, plenty of leprosy cases, and some hostile types now and then (occasional calls of "CIA"). Consequently, practically no pictures. We took a bus east to Sodere, a hot spring spa where we passed a pleasant enough afternoon and night, swimming and walking around. Otherwise, it was Addis and the two dollar spaghetti and veal meal at the Italian restaurant, bless its existence. A pity the country is in such terrible shape. If it ever manages to get itself functioning again, I’d love to return for a trip to the historical areas in the north, but especially for a trip down the Omo river and a look at the plate-lip people of that area. The Simien Mountains, in the north above Lake Tana, look like great hiking country, too.