Welcome to Kigali

Jon Vidar is the content manager for the Tiziano Project. Jon's first day in Kigali involved police barricades, an aborted Forth of July party, partying at the Hotel Rwanda, and Ewen McGregor.

The motorcycle taxi had to dodge three different roadblocks on the way to the airport, and the ten-minute ride turned into thirty. Fortunately Jon's plane was an hour late, so I didn't miss him.

The last Saturday of every month is national cleaning day in Rwanda, and all businesses must stay closed. Everyone has to stay home and clean. The whole country is on lockdown until 11 a.m. The last Saturday of June was a holiday weekend so the cleaning was postponed to the following weekend. The motorcycle taxi that took me to the airport wasn't supposed to be on the streets. Airport taxis have a special dispensation and are allowed to take new arrivals into the city. Jon and I were stopped multiple times on the way to the hotel, but each time the driver pointed to the muzungus in the back of his cab and got through. After he dropped us off he sighed and resigned himself to an hour of napping until the cleaning was finished.

This all sounds harsh, but Rwandans and even the most jaded ex-pats see the measure as a positive one. Rwanda is still working to rebuild from the devastation of the genocide of 1994. The government insistence on order and cleanliness establishes a precedent that the rest of the country follows.

We waited at the hotel until the city started moving again and headed down to the coffee shop (there's only one). After getting ourselves sufficiently caffeinated we noticed that there was some sort of commotion out on the patio. We looked out and saw people crowding around to get their photos taken with Obi-wan Kenobi himself, Ewan McGregor. I've only been out of L.A. for a few weeks, and the movie star thing just made me groan. But Jon looked at me and said, "I gotta do it." So we got in line and I took a photo of Jon and the Jedi.

So we left the coffee shop and went over to the home of the American ambassador for a late Fourth of July party. We were looking forward to seeing our tax dollars at work and getting some free food and drinks courtesy of the ambassador. Only we got there and found the ambassador gouging the good citizens of the U.S.A., charging about three times local prices for beer and burgers. We were also out of cash, and all the banks were closed for cleaning day. With a certain sense of relief, we were forced to concede that we had no choice but to leave the party, and went in search of a Western Union to get some cash.

After all that the only way to finish off the evening was to go see Daddy Casanova's reggae show at the Hotel Mille Collines, the famed Hotel Rwanda, where Don Cheadle saved countless well-dressed Hollywood extras from being screen-murdered by countless poorly-dressed Hollywood extras. With past tragedy as constant backdrop a reggae show including renditions of La Bamba and Dire Straights' "Walk of Life" can be a bit disconcerting. Jon was brutally exhausted and was only weirded out for a few minutes before he started falling asleep. I had no such luxury, but the show was actually a lot of fun.

Sunday we rested. And it was good.