Day 253 / 18

Date: 21 December 2022
Sleeping location: East African Hotel, Nyanza, Burundi
Distance (km today/total/total Part 2): 102 / 15789 / 952
Estimated climb (m today/total/total Part 2): 800 / 134600 / 16600
Nice people: 0
Day in three words: Mud and thunder

Because the crappy mosquito net in the crappy hotel in the crappy village was full of holes I had to do a mosquito hunt around 2am. The ones inside the net were all fat with my blood but at least that meant they were slow and easier to kill. Good thing I’ve started taking anti-malarials. During the hunt a thunderstorm rolled over with a whoosh of rain and a lightning flash that must only have been metres away, and seemed in the morning to have fried the electrical circuit containing the wall sockets. The rain eased off but was still going in the morning when my alarm went of a 6am, heavy but clearing just in time for me to leave that horrible little town and try my utmost to get to Nyanza by the end of the day.

Of course, because I have almost 100km to travel, the road immediately turns to dirt, mud, sand, mud, washboard, mud and potholes (filled with mud) in a constantly evolving mix. I need to make 10kph with breaks taken into account, so I just keep the pedals turning and watch the speedometer. At times the road hugs the lakeshore and it's very beautiful, I keep wanting to have a quick dip but there are man eating crocodiles in the lake* so I don’t want to swim without asking locals if it’s safe. In towns or villages people’s behaviour is consistent: I am to be discussed, mocked, often with some exaggerated Chinese accent, or studied, generally only addressed if you want money.  If I look upset or angry this just adds to the fun. In the countryside interactions have a little more time to breathe, but are still mostly weird. If someone shouts “mzungu” it generally doesn’t mean they want to say hi, they just want to look at me. The least rubbish way through this is to ignore everyone and respond to the few people who explicitly say hello or bonjour. Music and podcasts help as they provide some distraction.

Just short of 50km in, a miracle - tarmac reappears and lasts for 30km. This allows for some drafting of bike taxis and some much easier miles, and by late lunchtime I’m well ahead of the required distance and feeling better about things. In a better frame of mind the attention is easier to manage; I try to make jokes but can't help but feel they are laughing at me rather than laughing with me. I stop to buy drinks - dozens of children surround me and stare. I stop to drink the drinks and eat some food - the same thing. Once any child gets your attention for more than ten seconds the requests for money always come. Ironically they hate it when you turn the camera on them, which is something of a defence mechanism for me. 

I see a three year old with a goat on a piece of string and am curious about the power dynamic here. Has he been asked to take the goat out and watch it whilst it eats**? In which case, is this his job? Do three-year-olds have jobs here? This really is a poor country; the children wear tattered rags and most of them are clearly not in school, but I don’t think this entirely explains all the begging. There’s a half-arsed theory of mine called the Soft Drink Index of African Wealth (SDIAW). The richer the country, the larger the fizzy drinks predominantly on sale, because people can afford them. In Uganda and Rwanda they were 500ml. Here they are 250ml. I remember in Sudan they were tiny, maybe only 200ml, and most people drank little plastic bags of water instead. According to the statistics Burundi is the poorest country on earth, but they have the rain and the soil providing their water and food and fuel for free; Sudan felt poorer to me. And yet the people there were so warm and generous and never made me feel like an ATM. Egypt is much richer and yet there I was nothing but an ATM. These behaviours are linked to relative wealth, but that’s not the whole story.

I reached Nyanza in plenty of time in the end, and went to a pretty nice hotel on the lake with great views and pleasingly rubbish animal statues dotted around the grounds. I got a decent room which, best of all, had a wet room big enough to take Maggie in for a much needed shower to get the mud off. Wanting another big day and early start tomorrow, I went out to get some breakfast supplies and tried to make an effort with the people I interacted with, to see what happened, but it was just more of the same. Even when I feel like I'm in on the joke I'm not really. They have a special way of making you feel like an outsider, I think it's to do with eye contact, and they never smile at you, and in the end they always bring it back to asking for money. Back at the room a gecko falls on my head when I open the door. Even the wildlife hates me. 

Suzanne has now passed my number to her friend who apparently wants a job. Our love burned so bright but so short. She simply sends me a message that says "AHHH NO MATHER". I ponder the meaning of this but decide there isn’t any.

*Including one around the north end of the lake, in Burundi, called Gustave who according to Wikipedia has taken on “near mythical status”.

**I suppose the alternative is that the goat has been asked to babysit the child.