Plastic!
EA backpacking journal. Second entry.
Kigali. December 8, 2017. 12:34pm
It’s raining cats and dogs. I’m not sure if to be annoyed that I didn’t get out of the house before it began to pour or to be glad that I slept in and as a result am safely inside and not worried about getting wet. It’s a bit of a mixed bag. It’s the second day of the four that I get to be in Kigali, so I can’t really afford to laze around in my Airbnb.
But I'm not particularly bothered. Yesterday kinda got off to a slow start too, but somehow I managed to acquire a cheap local line with data, randomly visit a tech startup, score a walking tour of the city for Saturday morning, hang out and get supplies at the mall, ride motorcycle taxis, have dinner with the other guests at my Airbnb, and match on Tinder. Not shabby, I think, considering that things weren't entirely going my way, with me failing to secure the East Africa Tourist visa. More about that momentarily. But in all, yesterday was a good day. Maybe today will be just as...er...productive?
Rewind to the morning of the 7th after I land in Kigali international at 2am.
I have just learned that I can’t have the East African tourist visa, and I’m not in the best mood. But it gets better. For some reason that looks utterly silly now, I told my Airbnb host not to worry about letting me in the middle of the night because somehow I had reckoned that between getting through passport control, getting a local line, and taking a leisurely stroll around Kigali international, it would be morning. And even then I wouldn’t go directly to my Airbnb, I would mosey around town first, find and use a laundromat, grab a burger somewhere, and THEN head over to the Airbnb.
But as anyone who is familiar with Rwanda might have guessed, there were a few problems with that plan. The first is that Rwandan passport control is incredibly efficient. I was through before I could say Jambo. Then Kigali international isn’t strollable. There simply isn’t anywhere to stroll to. I could have found out that it’s a small airport in advance, but that’s not how Bankole rolls. There is actually no arrivals lounge inside the building. At least none that I could see once I was past immigration. Just some benches outside to sit on while you wait for your ride into town. And like my cold butt would find out, that shit isn’t fun at 2am.
Something funny...at least in hindsight...happened as I was exiting the arrivals building. A security woman and man suddenly started gesticulating wildly at me and shouting what it took me five seconds to realise was "Plastic! Plastic!". They were referring to the small plastic bag that was in my hand and gesturing for me to get rid of it. I was aware of the ban on plastics in Rwanda, but I had totally forgotten, and this bag had come from a Lego store I had visited on my way.
As I move about Kigali, I am fascinated by how how a few days of living in a plastic free zone can recondition one to a lifestyle that is easier on the environment. For instance, when I was in the mall, I couldn’t help noticing how expensive the drinks in plastic bottles are compared to drinks in paper containers. The 1.5L bottle of Fanta and Coke cost 3x the price in Lagos. Unless confronted with contrary evidence, I’m convinced that it’s basically an anti-plastic campaign. And it is brilliant. I can’t help thinking how this would be a great way to troll Nigerians. Actually, I’m serious, plastic bags and bottles and their improper disposal have fucked Lagos up majorly, and a no plastic policy, while inconvenient in the short term, would do us a ton of good. I’m going to stop preaching now.
For some reason, MTN is the only telco brand I could find at Kigali International, I didn’t see any others, hmm. The MTN line came with a few minutes of calls, but all I really cared about was the 1.5 gigs of 3G data. Line plus calls plus data cost exactly 5 USD. Is that cheap? It felt just about right to me, not much different from how much data costs in Lagos. The Lebara sim I got in France 2 weeks ago was daylight robbery in comparison, at 25 Euros. 25 bloody Euros, for 1 gig of data, ladies and gentlemen.
Now armed with mobile internet and some feeling of control over my destiny reasserted, I took refuge in the cafe that is right next to arrivals. I forget its name. I guess _that_ is the arrivals lounge, because it is open 24 hours. I had breakfast at 4am and pondered my visa situation. Since Rwanda had denied me the EATV, the next thing would be to try with Uganda where I'm headed next? I did the application right there and then, and it was a little tricky to do because there's documents you have to attach, and the application portal insisted they all have to be under 250kb each. Somehow I managed it and paid. Fingers crossed that it works because unlike the Kenyan and Rwandan processes, the Ugandan portal doesn't particularly inspire confidence. I haven't gotten any sort of confirmation email, and the site doesn't say how long it will take. If this goes sideways, I will have wasted another 100 dollars, which I cannot afford right now. Fingers crossed that it comes through. And that it comes through before Monday, when I hope to get on a Kampala-bound bus.
1:28pm. The rain has stopped. For now. I found out that Tolu Agunbiade moved here some months ago, so I'm going to drop in on her. If I'm efficient, I should also be able to squeeze in a visit to the genocide memorial and a place called K Lab before dinner. Allons.
