First foray into Kigali

The first thing we had to do was get somewhere to get some Rwandan Francs. You would have thought that a big international bank like mine, Natwest, could supply these, but apparently not.

First impressions – at least mine – are that Kigali bears more than a passing resemblance to places I have been in southern Europe and Israel. At least, until you come to transport. Now you know you are definitely in Africa. In the city, the buses are minibuses – aging Toyotas, with fold down seats that bridge the gap in the aisle. Thus, when someone at the back wants to get off, everyone on the fold down seats has to get up and there is this shuffle along with the descendee going forward and the aisle sitters moving back. For the computer buffs, it is a most intriguing sorting algorithm.

You generally pay the conductor about half a mile before you want to get off. The whole thing may seem chaotic, but it works. The alternative is the moto – 125cc motorbikes, where you are provided with a helmet and jump on the back. Definitely personalised transport.

Some things here are close to UK prices – Bourbon Coffee – the local equivalent of Starbucks. Camilla took us into Kigali’s main supermarket (one of only two that we would recognise as a supermarket). Aimed at the expat crowd, some of the things are prices that would make even our eyes water. Marmite (love it or hate it, and I am the latter for a reason unconnected to the taste, but the fact that I spent a year visiting the ENT specialist as a child and that department is just across the street from where the stuff is made, so it doesn’t have the best associations for me) is about four times the price back in England.

Bargaining in the craft and fabric stalls is an art. Taking our lead from Camilla, we left when there was no expected splitting of the difference. On one occasion, we thought agreement had been reached, the goods bagged up, but then more than we thought we had agreed was demanded, so the sale fell through.

In the afternoon, we walked from the hotel to the market and back. The market is roofed to protect from the sun and rain. The premium on space means that some market stalls are more vertical than horizontal – on a 6 foot square stall, displays may be 12 foot high. Bev bought some material for a skirt and then thought she had found one like she had tried to buy in the morning. However a closer inspection showed that it was an inferior Dutch copy, rather than the genuine Cote d’Ivoire block wax print.