Crossing Borders

So here we are. It's 2:30pm and the three of us are boarding a 24-hour bus to Kigali, Rwanda. Armed with a backpack and an ipod, slightly apprehensive, I know that it will be dark for at least 12 hours during this trip and a hijacking isn't unlikely. Not to mention, I don't think about the fact that it might cost me US $50 to enter into each country. No...I just have two US $1 bills, 3000 shillings(equivalent to US $40), and dried pineapple rings. See the thing about traveling to different countries within Africa...is that you have to cross the border. The only real experience I have with border crossings is stumbling through to Southern California from Tiajuana, Mexico. If I thought the Mexican Federali was bad...I don't know what I was thinking.

At about midnight we arrive at our first border at Uganda and we are completely delirious. The only Mzungus on the bus, we try to act casual. I use that term lightly considering we're in a bus full of Kenyans. I also realize I have no other source of cash besides my VISA credit card...so here's hoping. Inevitably, my biggest fear manifests itself as the obnoxious lady behind the glass tells me that it will cost me US $50 please. Oh for the love of god of course I don't have it. I'm staring blankly for a few moments, I'm too tired to deal with this, and I don't even know what's going on. She just returns the look as I'm clearly not impressing her at this time of night. I ask if she accepts VISA and with a look that says, you can't be serious, she spits out a "No." Somehow this doesn't surprise me as I look around at the shack of a room with no door and faulty lighting. "Jen," says Sara, "they don't even have electricity, I hardly think they'd have a credit card machine." "But it's VISA!" I say desperately, "It's everywhere you want to be!" "JEN," she pulls me together, "does this LOOK like it's anywhere you'd want to be???" I can't believe I'm attempting to use my B of A credit card to cross the border. Good thing she had some extra shillings on her, I have been saved for what wouldn't be the last time on this trip.

After that it was pretty much smooth sailing as far as bus rides go. Besides a few 4am stops in the middle of nowhere, getting into Uganda from Rwanda I was feeling confident and tried to get out of the fee. Since I had already paid to enter Uganda on the first leg of my trip I thought this would be sufficient. At first I attempted to barter with my receipt from a few days prior. He threw it away. Well that was a dead end. So I shifted focus to my multiple entry Kenyan Visa, which has proven to be completely useless during this trip. After I explained that I had already paid to have the ability to get back into Kenya after leaving, the border control looked at me and said, "But this is UGANDA." I retorted, "I already paid the first time and what happens if I don't have any more money??" He gave me the same unamused stare and emphasized each word as he said, "Then you don't cross through. Next please." Oh for godsake, I've lost his attention and I'm going to be left at the border. Really, I was almost left at the border and no one even cared. And then, suddenly, the clouds parted as Sara discovered yet ANOTHER $50 at the bottom of her bag of tricks. I don't know how she keeps doing this, and I can't think about what would have happened had she not. Thanks Sara. Now the only thing left to accomplish on this bus was another 10 hours to Nairobi at night.

The reign of terror. That's what I'm on. It's my 39th or 40th hour of bus transport throughout this trip and I'm staring out the window panes of a bus slightly larger than the one you took to elementary school. It's so dark I can't see what I'm writing, but I'm watching the most incredible lightening storm I've ever seen. I've always been fascinated with lightening, but somehow the fact that it's in Africa makes it that much better. Either that, or for the sole purpose that if I don't concentrate on something else I remember I'm riding the Death Star a.k.a. AKAMBA bus. The first red flag was that my seat belt was non-existent, and as we blew through a small village at lightening speed over rocky roads I started to get worried. The driver is a crazy SOB with a death wish for certain. I'm convinced he's the devil. He takes every bump with alarming speed and I fly four feet in the air each time. We are completely aghast at the inability to control our flailing bodies. This has got to be a joke, what is going on here?! We're traveling at a life-threatening 3000 kilometers per hour over dirt roads at 2am. I don't know what was scarier...white water rafting down the Nile, jumping out of a plane in Monterey, or taking AKAMBA bus services. That's what happens when your copy of "Lonely Planet: East Africa" is a 2006 publication...the recommended services are slightly out of date. There was absolutely no possibility of sleep, so the next 10 hours proved to be pretty much the worst sustained torture of my life. I can't believe we, or the bus, made it in one piece. Once our feet finally hit solid ground I crawled home, but not without a plethora of battle wounds on my arms and legs.