Enchanting and menacing: The paradox that is life in Bujumbura
Sunday July 07 2019
Soldiers patrol outside the Finance Ministry in Bujumbura, Burundi, on May 13, 2015. During a recent trip to Bujumbura, two pick-up trucks with about a dozen security operatives brandishing their weapons, hastily exited the road, momentarily blocking our vehicle from joining the highway. The officers jumped out of their vehicles, had a brief and rushed conversation among themselves, jumped back onto the vehicles and sped off. PHOTO | AFP
For the uninitiated, Burundi can be as enchanting as it can be menacing. This I quickly learnt a few weeks ago when I made my maiden trip to the country for a week-long work engagement.
The flight into Bujumbura from Kigali was uneventful.
Exiting the Bujumbura International Airport (recently renamed Merchior Ndadaye International Airport) is hassle-free. One thing that quickly strikes you once you step out of the airport is the humidity. It felt much warmer than the official nearly 30 degrees centigrade, thanks to Lake Tanganyika, which borders the landlocked country.
My hotel, in the heart of Bujumbura was about 45 minutes drive from the airport, according to my taxi driver. As we drove, albeit on the unfamiliar right side of the road, I engaged him in small talk, starting off with why his Swahili sounded different. It was a safe topic.
I moved on to matters economic, asking him about Burundi’s main source of income – agriculture.
My hotel was not far from the country’s heavily guarded Parliament Buildings. I did not think much of the gun-toting security men; this, after all, was one of the most important buildings in the country.
At the hotel, the staff were friendly, including the owner of the hotel.
This friendliness and warmness was a permanent feature during my entire stay in Burundi, at least with the general population.
Hotels in the capital are relatively affordable. Breakfast is as typical as in any budget hotel in Nairobi. The usual continental mix of sausages, bacon, baked beans, coffee (in a sachet, not brewed), white and mixed tea, and fruit.
The hotel owner had organised a van to shuttle me between the hotel and my conference venue for the entire length of my stay. At no extra cost.
Except for the obligatory greetings, the driver and I kept our thoughts to ourselves. Well, that was the case for about three minutes, until two Hilux pick-up trucks, creaky with about a dozen security operatives brandishing their weapons, hastily exited the road, momentarily blocking our vehicle from joining the highway.
CLOSE ENCOUNTER
The officers jumped out of their vehicles, had a brief and rushed conversation among themselves, jumped back onto the vehicles and sped off.
Across the street, a different contingent was driving off in the opposite direction.
This was my first close encounter with Burundi’s famed security apparatus that has been covered widely in local and international press, following the 2015 coup attempt.
Shocked, I asked the driver if this was normal. He calmly responded in Swahili; Hapana ogopa. Hawa tushazoea. Kitambo ilikuwa kubwa zaidi. (Do no panic, we are used to this. The guns used to be bigger.)
His advice? Just keep your head down, do your business and nobody will bother you.
After three days of daily commute, the driver felt comfortable enough to let me know that once the batch of visitors at our hotel left, he would be out of a job for an unknown period of time until the next mass bookings.
I prodded further, asking him about his personal economic position. “If I eat two meals a day, it is a very good day. I normally eat one,” he said, adding that this is, sadly, a common narrative among those who have come to the capital city to eke a living.
I forked out a $10 note and gave to him and continued our journey back to the hotel in silence.
Half way there, we heard a whistle being blown, as we approached a building traffic jam. Dear Nairobians, we are not alone. I asked the driver what it was all about.
He said the president was heading back to his residence from a function upcountry.
This should be interesting to watch, I thought. However, the blue-clad security officers had other ideas.
They loudly ordered motorists to park on the side of the road and switch off their headlights and engines. Pedestrians scampered for safety behind the vehicles. We were ordered to keep quiet. We were released after 20 minutes.
It was at this very moment that I mentally ruled out going clubbing while in Bujumbura. For some weird reason, I also questioned why Kenyans complain about the president’s motorcade back home. Others have it worse.
After another two uneventful days, I headed back home. Would I return to Burundi? Definitely. While the presence of the security officials is somewhat scary, Burundians are welcoming. Furthermore, I did not get a chance to visit the beach.