Road to Rwanda.....Mototaxis

 As I got off my mototaxi this morning after arriving at school, I paid him my 500 rwf (about 40 cents) and thanked him.  He then said, "God bless you."  This was a young Rwandan mototaxi driver blessing me.  I was touched. I realized that I have probably not explained a major part of why we can continue to live in Rwandan into our dotage. 

Transportation is a major life challenge no matter where you live. If it is a car, you need gas, maintenance, insurance, place to park, licensure, safe driving venues, etc. (USA, Senegal, Zambia) If it is public transport, you need accessiblity, low price, frequent occurences, safety, etc. (Taipei, China, Panama) ( If it is a bicycle, you need parking space, safe driving lanes, reasonably close proximity to places for you to bike to, and if possible.....gears. (Beijing)  But in several places we have lived motorscooters and also mototaxis have been the best option. (Taiwan, Indonesia, Rwanda).  

It means that I get up in the morning, walk the half block from my apartment to the main road and find several men setting astride their motorcycles, spare helmet dangling from their handle bars. I wave at one of them, usually at random, and they immediately fire up their motorcycle and come barreling down to meet me where I am standing.  I have had some tight squeezes with them turning around in the middle of the road, so I usually make them head the way I am going befor I get on them. (experience is a good teacher).  I greet them... me in English, them in English/French/Kinyarwanda, depending on what they speak and how they perceive me... Up until the genocide in 1994, Rwanda was a French speaking country, so most people think all old people must speak French, not English. Then I tell them where I am going.  Directions are not given by street addresses here. My students have absolutely NO idea what their actual Musanze address is.  Rather, you mention a landmark close to where you want to go.  For my house I say, "Jibu", which is kinyarwanda for "water", but designates the water distributing building that is kattykornered from my apartment. They then give me a helmet. This never fits tightly enough to be of any use. It is a token gesture toward safety and obeying the law.  I then heft myself onto the mototaxi.  For most people this is not a difficult task, just sitting astride the back of a motor cycle. Because I have had both hips and a knee replaced, this is rather a major obstacle.  I can only get on sitting "side saddle".  Even this 4 years ago when I arrived meant I had to reach down, physically pick my leg up and put it on the footrest, but about a year ago I decided this was a missed opportunity to strengthen those muscle, and even though it hurt to begin with, I make my leg of its own volition put itself on the footrest.  I then say, "OK." and they sometimes say, "Go?" if their English is good enough and we take off.  Voila!

40 cents will get me pretty much anywhere I want to go in Musanze.  I often overpay by just always giving the  500 rwf bill rather than change.  It is just more convenient, and the drivers are surprised and happy at being overpaid. (The question always is am I enforcing the stereotype that foreigners can be duped into paying more, but I set that aside in order to honor the concept of generosity.)

So I do this at least once a day, but sometimes 4 or 5 times a day depending on what is going on.  The incredible convenience and cheapness of this options is one of the reasons that growing old is is a possible  and when it is augmented by the driver blessing me in morning....well I do feel really happy and content.