Hello, Africa. Tell me how you're doing.

My lost driver and new friend Gilbert suddenly materialized on my doorsted this morning, along with his brother Jojo.
I had spent a restless night battling nightmares and hallucinations, side effects of the malariadrugs about which I had been warned in advance. This went on until about 4 am, when I realized I had opted for the medicine without the aforementioned sideeffects. Having made this realization, I went to sleep soundly.
I was glad to see Gilbert alive and well, and I will assume that he was glad to see me too.
Together, the three of us embarked on a tour of the city of Kigali.
Kigali is indeed an amazing place. During the last few years, Rwanda has emerged as a leading economy and example of civic society in Africa.
Mr. Kagame. the president, is fiercly loved by every Rwandan I spoke to, and his policies are carried forward by a people determined, as a woman I spoke to put it, to become the best in the world at everything they set out to achieve.
This has not only resulted in an incredible process of healing and nationbuilding after the genocide that tore the nation apart 15 years ago, but also an impeccably clean and safe country.
As I mentioned earlier, plastic bags are banned in Rwanda, under penalty of uptil 6 months in prison, and every couple of months the entire population joins in a massive communal effort of cleaning the streets.
The result of this, is an eerily spotless capital. Nowhere is there trash to be found. Every inch of road, path and alley in Kigali is indeed spotless. It is a truly aweinspiring thing to see, and the results are such that even neighbouring countries such as Uganda are thinking about following suit.
I wanted to ask a woman I had dinner with about the less than democratic facets of Mr. Kagame’s rule, but I quickly gathered that this was a non-issue with most Rwandans. Most, if not all of Rwandans progress has been attributed to his policies, and to most Rwandans this counts for more than democratic technicalities. I must admit that having seenn Kigali, I find myself wanting to agree with them.
Having dropped off Jojo where he worked, I am not fully clear on what exactly he does, but he claimed he was a businessman and would make sure I enjoyed my stay immensely next time I passed through Rwanda, Gilbert and I headed west through the rolling foothills of Rwanda. The countryside is a spectacular sight, reminiscent of the hills of Northern California around Santa Cruz, with lush sloping hills and sweeping vistas.
I was amazed at how much of Rwandan land is used for crops. Almost every conceivable inch of space had been tilled and planted.
Gilbert and I spent and enjoyable 3 hours trying to close a language gap that was at times frustratingly narrow and at other times impossibly wide.
At the best of times we had seeds of conversation, each forgiving the other his linguistic shortcomings. At one point I’m fairly sure I asked Gilbert if he enjoyed swimming in bananajuice, to which he politely answered ”Yes.”.
Crossing the border into the DRC is a surreal experience. The last stretch of Rwanda is the shore of Lake Kivu, a gigantic body of water of which one cannot see the far shore. This is Rwandas riviera, and the shoreline is dotted by swanky hotels.
The DRC also shares this shoreline, but the hotels quickly end only to be replaced by the giant, sprawling wasteland that is Goma. Noone I asked could tell me exaclty how many people live in Goma, but the consensus seems to be somewhere in the vicinity of 3 million. This is hard to believe, as it is a stark contrast to the much smaller, but endlessly more metropolitan Kigali.
As if 10 years of brutal warfare has not been enough, Goma, in 2003, endured an eruption from the volcano at wich feet the city resides. Most of Goma was covered in lava and ashes, and with the DRCs decimated economy and lack of infrastructure, rebuilding has been slow going.
Dirt roads sided by shacks, tents and coverd wagons stretch endlessly into the distance, and one never gets the sense of actually being in a city. The streets are open wounds in the landscape, and what little infrastructure there is looks mercilessly forced into the soil. It is as if the city itself is in pain.
Interestingly, the city of Goma is host to no less than 4 large universities.
Tomorrow will be a day of exploration.
Now I shall end this rather extended blogspot with an apology to all those that are worried because of yesterdays shambolic performance on my part. It will never happen again.