What should we pack? What will we do? I asked many times in the weeks leading up to our trip. Along with an unexpected slam from Delta, we were going to a new place I knew nothing about.

I didn’t want to fill my head with other people’s ideas, so I wasn’t doing a lot of internet research, and limited my reading to a couple of authors from the region. Our friends and hosts told us they were taking care of the itinerary, so we just needed to show up.

So we did. We showed up.

I noticed right away that clothing in Rwanda is a lot more conservative than it is in the U.S. In rural areas, women wear African print wraps as shawls, skirts, and underskirts –  as many layers as necessary depending on the elevation, and often paired with a t-shirt. In the villages, among the women, there were basically no pants, and no tank tops.

In the cities, there was more variation, but still lots of incredible African prints – two-piece matching outfits with a tunic and fitted pants, bomber jackets, amazing sneakers, and all different types of styles of clothing in incredible colors. I saw very few distressed clothing items – we had been there for days when I noticed a woman wearing distressed jeans, and it surprised me because I realized it was the first time I’d seen anyone wearing clothes that had been purchased with holes in them (a trend I’ve never really understood. I distress my own clothes, thanks).

Little girls and boys both had their hair cut very short – but you could tell who was who because the girls were wearing dresses. Men wore t-shirts or button-down shirts with pants. I don’t recall seeing shorts on adults. Many people were wearing plastic shoes like Crocs, or flip flops. Those flip flops worked as brakes on a bicycle going down a mountain, to my surprise. On the way up a hill, we frequently saw multiple bikes taking a ride by hanging onto the window or handles on the back of a truck.

I had packed a lot of shorts and tank tops (it was summer!) and then felt like wearing them was going to make me stick out even more than I already did as the single white person in most situations. Plus I packed my birkenstocks, knowing they are a classic white tourist choice, to the point of being a tired joke – but they are so comfortable, I brought them anyway. I’ve made notes for packing for a future trip – skirts and short sleeve shirts will be the main dishes on the menu, as well as some long sleeved, light colored shirts for sun protection.  There were no strollers. Everyone who had a infant or child too small to walk had the child strapped to their back. Only very occasionally would you see an adult actually carrying a child without it being in a wrap on a mother’s back – and those kids were often pulled out of a wrap to be comforted or fed, evidenced by a loose wrap hanging empty around a woman’s waist. I hardly ever heard babies crying when we were out in public. A baby on its mom’s back is usually a happy baby. People transported goods on motorcycle taxis, on foot, on bicycles, and on trucks with towering loads tied down with ropes. Men, women, and children routinely carried things on their heads. Men and children would use a scrap of cloth to protect their heads; women often had an African wrap rolled into a donut and perched on their head to make a nest and cushion between their heads and whatever they were carrying. I frequently saw a small cluster of people gathered around a flip phone, pulled in close to see the tiny screen in the glare of daylight. But in spite of the lack of things we take for granted, particularly in the rural areas, everything was orderly, clean, and super efficient. Outside of stores, where no running water was available, a simple set-up with a jug and spigot allowed (and required) customers to wash their hands before entering. There was typically someone standing there to make sure you washed, and sometimes, to take your temperature before they let you in.The prices in the stores our hosts took us to were shocking to me. Beautiful baskets were $3-4 each, kids’ T-shirt and shorts sets were $12, a beautiful wood creche that stood over a foot tall was $18. Fabric was between US$3-4/yard. This was  high quality, African print and wax print broadcloth.

Please note, in the below shot outside of the shops we visited, not one but two people are proving that you can, indeed, speak on a cell phone with your mask on. Who knew? We went on two different shopping trips, and I’ll be forever grateful to our friends, who showed us what was available – I didn’t even know Rwandan baskets were a thing – and then bargained down the prices in Kinyarwanda. The prices I listed above are the amounts I was quoted before the bargaining started.  I filled two suitcases full of fabric, baskets, wood carvings, and coffee and tea, and gifts for the kids.What I really wanted to do was take photos of everyone and everything. Due to the weirdness around asking people’s permission to take their photos, and the potential language barrier, and the fact that I was a privileged white person traveling during a pandemic – it didn’t feel right to be flashing my fancy camera around taking pictures of people. Plus, often there wasn’t even time to go through the process of asking someone if I could photograph them because I was frequently taking photos from inside a moving car. So many times, when we were around people, I just kept my camera in my bag.I was also mindful of the Victorian Stroll and how awkward and overwhelming it got with people openly photographing us without our consent, on top of the many people who had the manners to ask for our photo. So I took a lot fewer pictures of people than I wanted to, and I’ll only be posting ones where people’s faces aren’t showing, or aren’t close enough to be recognizable, as I wasn’t able to obtain consent. One of the best parts of the trip was the weekend we spent with our friends driving around the country. As we drove, they shared stories and observations about the places we were driving past, about a solar power project they’d been a part of, about the speed trap cameras being installed along the roads, etc. Our hosts also told us about how the government, looking to get rid of the stereotypical thatched huts, replaced roofs throughout the country with clay tiles or corrugated metal a number of years ago. The only place we saw thatch was at an ecolodge we stayed in, located in Southern Rwanda in the mountains. It was owned by a European and he clearly going for the stereotypical vibe (the gift shop made my hair stand on end. Gross, colonial creepiness). This kind of information wouldn’t have been provided by a regular guide, and I really appreciated the perspective. Due to the curfew in place while we were there, as the afternoon wore on, the road would fill up with folks trying to make it home before the roads were peppered with checkpoints manned by armed men in uniform. Our hosts told us that motorcycle taxi prices spike the closer it gets to curfew.

Evening rush hour was the shoulder of both sides of the road filling up with a mass of humanity on their way home. Can you see group of women dressed alike? Our host speculated that they were bridesmaids.Rwanda is changing fast. It was clear just from our ten-day visit that by the time we go back, even if just a few years have passed, things will have changed a lot.

Conservation efforts are happening in areas with concentrations of wildlife, and change is taking place in the cities and villages. The government has an eye for the future and is making moves to build up the country in the name of progress. It makes me a little sad to think there are things I won’t recognize if I go back in a few years’ time. Sure, there will be positive changes, like additional electrification and more places with running water, and areas without paved roads will get them.

I also think of all the “progress” the U.S. has achieved with little concern for the effects on the environment. I hope Rwanda can do a better job than we did of balancing progress with conservation efforts. Before we left for the trip, I told one of my daughters that I was looking forward to listening to Afrobeats, music we listen to often at home, in Africa. In reality, I heard music playing publicly maybe three times. Unlike in Tobago (although many other aspects of Rwanda reminded us of Tobago, like the foliage and the architecture, as well as the conservative culture), music isn’t pumping out of every car and business. It’s very quiet. So my fantasy of driving with the window down while music rolled over me didn’t actually happen the way I’d imagined.

Oh, how I wish I had the contact info of the two lovers on an evening stroll. I would love to give them this photo. Our hosts told us that PDA is uncommon and generally discouraged, but in the evenings, we occasionally saw couples walking hand in hand. This, though, was the most striking and openly affectionate couple we saw.