Rwandan Culture & Customs

When traveling, I enjoy learning about local customs. For some reason my guide book didn't contain a handy list of dos and don'ts to help me avoid looking like a rude American. So...we made a few mistakes along the way. For example, we asked one man how many cows he has on his farm, not realizing that this is the equivalent of our asking someone how much he makes. A typical response to that question could be 'one cow' or enough. A few other things I learned follow.

• It isn't unheard of for a widow to marry the brother of her deceased husband, as wouldn't her husband want her to be happy?
• Having a housekeeper is common since labor is cheap
• Eggs and dessert are eaten only by the rich.
  
• Congolese music is popular.
  
• Don't ask how many children one has.
  
• I heard something about the government educating the people to have no more than three kids. Our guide only has a couple of children and doesn't plan on having more. A man said to him that he is "producing like white people" since he and his wife only have a couple of kids!
  
• Men don't call older men by their name (out of respect)
• Men hold hands--it is a sign of friendship/friendly affection.

Lessons Learned

The Ethiopian flight from hell taught (or should I say reminded) me a couple of things about traveling.

• Always prepare for the worst. On the way to Rwanda I did so. I had an extra change of clothes, toothpaste, a toothbrush, deodorant and more. If we were to get stuck someone on the flight over, I would have been ready. Since our flight went without a hitch, I become 'overly confident' and wasn't as prepared for the return flight. Yet, that's when I needed all of the extras, as we got stuck in Rome! Ahhh....
  
• Never pack your meds. I cannot believe I packed all of my medications for the return flight! Again, this is not something I did on the way over! I had to go a whole day and a half without taking my malaria medicine! Good thing that I'm fairly healthy and haven't gotten it (yet :) )
  

All said, I am glad we got stuck in Rome instead of Addis Ababa, as I was able to buy some DELICIOUS Italian chocolates for the fam!

Now that was a Bad Flight

I hate flying. Growing up I loved it dearly. If fact, I even considered becoming a pilot 'when I grew up'. But, this changed once I experienced a terrifying flight during my early twenties. Then 9/11 happened and it got even scarier. Flying--especially across the Atlantic--is not something I look forward to.

The trip to Rwanda was amazing. Perfect in fact. I couldn't have asked for anything better. I guess the flight home was to balance things out.

Our flight from Rwanda to Ethiopia was uneventful--just the way I like it. Then we changed planes in Ethiopia, but it didn't want to take off. The pilot informed us that air traffic control told them to abort take off b/c another plane just landed (and didn't have clearance to do so). Seriously, did he think we'd believe that story?

We made it to Rome. After an hour-long fueling and cleaning session, we were set to take off for home. But, again, the plane didn't feel like taking off, as the right engine wasn't pulling its weight. After trying to take off for an hour the pilot finally admitted that the right engine needed some work. This concerned me--and others. Why did it take the pilot so long to come to this conclusion? And, do we really want him to fly us across the Atlantic? (I sure didn't!) So, we sat on the tarmac for about 4 hours as they tried to fix the engine, fed us breakfast and tried to figure out what to do next--all while NOT communicated to us. We were completely in the dark and didn't know what was next. Some people couldn't handle this as evident by the crying and presence of medical staff who treated and removed some passengers from the plane.

Finally, a decision was made. We were set to get off the plane. Novel idea, huh?

Of course, we weren't at a gate, so it took three buses to take everyone to the airport. Then, those with U.S. passports were told to follow a short and spunky Italian woman, everyone else was to stay behind. We were informed that they were putting us up in a four star hotel where we could shower and rest. And, we were to be fed and given a phone call. I felt bad for everyone else, as it sounded like we were going to be waiting for a while....

I lost track of time, but we hung around the hotel for about 12 hours or so...Since we didn't know how much time we were to be there we were advised not to stray far, as if we missed the flight getting home would be our responsibility.

We would walk for 15 minutes or so, then return to the hotel to see if there was any news. We enjoyed some yummy Italian pastries, I purchased some chocolates for the fam back home and a couple of us walked through a lovely park where Italian kids were celebrating being one year the wise.

We were finally given word that the buses would pick us up at 7:30 to take us to the airport. This is when my friend and I started freaking out. Why hadn't we researched alternatives for returning home? I didn't trust the pilot and the old plane had issues. Flying across the Atlantic is scary enough, but these other factors made for a nerve-cracking experience that I didnt' want to be a part of.

I started researching alternatives--and found one. I could fly on Delta direct from Rome to Atlanta at 9 AM the following morning all for a couple of hundred dollars and 60K sky miles. I could do that--so why didn't I?

I didn't think it was my time to die. There's too much I haven't done yet. This may sound ridiculous or arrogant, but I didn't feel it was my time. That said, it was the scariest flight of my life. We laughed. Some of us cried. And we all clapped when the plane took off and landed.

Boy am I glad I made it home.