More on the Motos

I’ve been riding motos everywhere – they’re the easiest way to get around. My drivers always range from people who completely try to rip me off to some who can be waned down to a normal price. Sometimes, while flying down Kigali’s hills, a driver will take out his phone to text or answer a phone call – which is weird because I didn’t think you had an extra hand when driving a motorcycle. At that point, I scream OYA OYA (NO, NO) because as everyone reading this blog knows, he’s driving precious cargo.

As there are no street signs, getting around is tough, not to mention the language barrier – I greet the drivers in Kinyrwanda, bargain in French, give directions in a mix of Swahili and Spanish, and then talk to myself on the moto in English. Multi-lingual much?

My moto driver the other night was quite the gem. He didn’t put up a fight when I proposed 400 Rwandan francs for the ride (which is about 80 cents), so I gladly hopped on. It wasn’t far, mostly because I may or may not have been taking the moto in order to avoid walking up a huge hill – this tired body can only do so much. After helping to adjust my helmet, my driver so generously offered me a bite of the ear of corn he was eating at the time. Famished as I was and as good as street corn is, I declined. I was unsure what he was going to do with the corn, as there are no garbage cans in Kigali that I can find, but I soon found out when he tossed it onto the ground as we ran through a red light. On top of it all, when I got home he only charged me 300 francs! And who said chivalry was dead.