Don't take the bus on the first day of school!

Last Monday was the first day of school for both primary (P1 through P6) and secondary (S1 through S6) schools in Rwanda.  (Rwanda doesn't experience the same seasons as the U.S.)  Most of the secondary students attend boarding schools, so they filled the buses all weekend and Monday.  Young people were carrying or waiting with everything from backpacks to metal footlockers to rolled and tied foam mattresses.  They were carrying them on foot, hanging on to them while riding motorcycle taxis, or sitting with them waiting for the bus.

Speaking of buses, I chose that same Monday to ride the bus into Kigali.  I was all out of Sumatriptan, that magic medicine that makes my migraines go away.  Somehow I started out later than I had planned.  I arrived at the Volcano Express office just before noon.  The noon bus was just leaving, and tickets for the 12:15 bus were already sold out, so I had to wait for the 12:30 bus.  That was OK, since I needed to get some lunch, and there is a little “Alimentation” right next to the bus office.  I got two samosas and a big cup of tea for 700 RWF (about 1 USD).  I finished the samosas and half the tea in time to get a good seat on that 12:30 bus.

As I was riding and just drifting off to sleep, Anne called, reminding me to bring her cash, because she hadn't gotten any before she left on Sunday for her conference.  Oops!  I had forgotten about that part of my errand and left the extra cash at home, but I could give her most the cash in my wallet and get more from an ATM on my way to the one pharmacy in the country where I know I can get Sumatriptan. Before I got to the main bus station in Kigali, I managed to figure out what part of town Anne’s conference was in.  This was my first time going from the Express bus to a local bus without a Rwandan friend leading me.  Fortunately, each bus has a person that collects passengers, and one of these told me that her bus was going to Nyanza.  I got on the bus, which was filling very slowly.  I have been on buses here that will not go until every seat is filled, so I was delighted when we pulled out with passengers in barely a third of the seats!  Of course, at each stop, we paused while the “collector” announced various destinations to everyone outside in hopes that they might board and pay the 200 RWF (30 cents) fare.  As we reached a point a couple of kilometers from my destination, the bus made a U-turn before stopping.  This was obviously the end of the line, and the collector said I must get off here, and that catch a bus “over there” to get the rest of the way.  I got a moto-taxi instead (400 RWF).  As usual, I prayed for most of the ride. Arriving safely at my destination, I called Anne, and followed the signs to the conference registration desk.  After some discussion, we determined that I did not have enough cash to satisfy Anne’s needs.  But look! Here is our car which I can drive to an ATM for cash!  Fortified through the ATM with 200,000 RWF, I returned and gave Anne 150,000.

By this time, I knew I was behind schedule. I skipped the bus and flagged down another moto-taxi to take me to the pharmacy downtown.  We settled before the ride on 800 RWF, but then he didn't seem to know any of the locations I named except for the Kigali City Tower (the tallest, shiniest building in the country.)  After we reached that landmark, I gestured him along to a point close to KeyPharma, adding three more blocks to our 8 kilometer trip.  He wanted 1000 when I got off, but I convinced him to settle for the 800 we had agreed upon at the start.

KeyPharma has about 6 cash registers arranged along a counter that runs along both sides and the back of the customer area.  At each register there were people holding prescriptions to be filled, waiting for their meds to be brought from stock, or paying for their meds.  Choose a register, get in line, and hope it doesn't take too long.  (“Darn!  If I had gotten in that other line I would be done by now!”  “What’s with this person cutting in front of me?!”)  When my turn came, I said “I need Sumatriptan.”  “Where is your prescription?” the pharmacist asked.  “I don’t have it.”  “Why not?”  “Because it’s in America!”  She laughed, thank God, and went to get my pills.  I paid 26,460 RWF (26,460 / 690 = $38.35) for twelve pills, 50 mg each (half the dose I get in the US, but sometimes it’s enough).  That is actually less than I would pay in the U.S. for the same generic brand.

Another moto-taxi, and more prayers, got me to the Baha’i Center in the Nyamirambo neighborhood at 15:20, just twenty minutes later than I had intended!  My books were waiting for me as was the dear secretary of the National Spiritual Assembly.  We talked then prayed together.  She even suggested that I catch a ride with her to her home, where Anne would be staying the night.  Alas, I had invited guests for supper in Muhanga at 18:30, so I shouldered my pack, now heavy with books, and caught another moto-taxi (800 RWF) to the bus station at Nyamirambo.

As Monday was the first day of school, the bus office was mobbed.  I arrived around 16:00, but, though a bus leaves every fifteen minutes, the earliest I could get was 17:15.  Still, I bought the ticket (for 850 RWF, a 50 franc discount!), and set out to wait.  I went to board at 17:00, figuring I would get a decent seat.  But no!  The buses were running early!  My bus had only two seats left and I had to take a fold-down, aisle seat that just happened to have a metal box under it and be right behind the door! (I thanked God that they only sell as many tickets for a bus as there are seats!)  After boarding, I remembered: “There’s no way I can host a dinner at 18:30, I may not even be home by then.”  I called Lisa, the only guest whose number I had, and asked her to inform the others that the dinner was canceled. 

The bus let people off at various villages on the way.  For each stop, I had to stand up holding my backpack, fold my seat up, and actually step off of the bus to allow passengers off and new passengers on to take the vacant seats.  Then I got back on, folded my seat down, sat down with my pack on my lap, and shut the door as the bus accelerated.  I followed this procedure about six times before we reached my stop, which was a short walk from home with a heavy pack full of books. 

Home again, but without my wife, and no guests to talk and laugh with.  I ate some leftovers, then stayed up until midnight browsing Facebook.  It’s a good thing I had Sumatriptan!