My house in Shyogwe is isolated in a funny sort of way in that it is an hour's walk from the main road. We can get on the back of a push bike for 20p to get down to the road and usually we get a moto up the road. The other day it had been raining and the poor push bike guy was dripping sweat and absoutley breathless when we got to the top of the small incline at the beginning of the road. I had two samosas in my bag and I realised that he needed some fuel in my tank so i got them out and gave him one and i had the other. So we had a nice chummy little mini picnic before carrying on our way.
The motos also struggle with the dirt road because it is just one long stretch of muddy puddles. last night we came home and went past several cows - rwandans are not allowed to graze them they cut the grass and take it to the cows - and four soldiers with guns (perhaps looking out for cows?) and the drivers just wanted the dosh they weren't bothered whether they got us there dead or alive - they just went at full speed over all the bumps and puddles and my helmet and his crash bang walloped all the way home.
The previous week michael had managed to get himself a very dud moto which the guy was driving with both hands on one side to stop the brakes falling off. Then when he came off the main road onto the dirt track the lights failed so the driver went straight down the middle of the track - which unfortunately for michael is also the bumpiest bit. I could see him ahead bouncing up and down and shouting in his lovely posh accent "Stop stop stop," to which the oblivious driver just replied "sorry sorry sorry" . Later it became clear why he had not heeded Michael's urgent appeals - his brakes were not working. So when we rounded the corner into Shyogwe and the driver saw it was a down hill, he took urgent remedial action to bring his bike to a stop. First he tried walking backwards - not very effective action on a ton weight motor bike with two passengers and then as a last resort he swerved to the left - to take the bike uphill presumably hoping to stop - and finally came to rest right outside pasteur emmanuel's front door.
One bike ride not to be forgotten!