Bujumbura, you ask? Where on earth is Bujumbura?
Although… if you are a regular reader of this blog, you are probably curious about the lesser known places in this world, and you already know.
Even though it has been stripped of its official capital status, Bujumbura is the largest city in Burundi, and although then president Pierre Nkurunziza moved the political capital to Gitega in 2019, it remains the country’s cultural, historical and economic hub.
It is a fairly small city – 127 km2, just a little bigger than Sheffield, and with ca. 375 000 residents. While I am here, it seems they are all out at once, all the time. Why? See box below.
Landing in Bujumbura, first on the agenda is visa on arrival. I spot a row of counters, and head that way. At the first one, I hand over my passport and answer a few questions: why am I here? how long am I staying in the country? All friendly. At the second counter, I hand over the fee (USD 40 for 3 days, USD 90 for 30 days). At the third, I get my passport back, now with a visa sticker in it, taking up an entire page.
It is a fairly smooth process. If you pay attention, that is. Not everyone does. Even though the counters are clearly marked Step 1, 2 and 3, several muzungu (Bantu for foreigner), go directly to Step 3. No go, folks. Back to step 1 with you.
I’m staying at Hotel Dolce Vita Resort, which feels more like a villa, and is perfectly fine, inadequate electricity and wifi notwithstanding. (If you absolutely need those things continuously, I expect the city’s 5-star hotels have some sort of back-up solution.)
Hotel Dolce Vita Resort in Bujumbura
Due to aircraft delays, I end up having only one full day to explore Bujumbura. Better get on with it, and for once, I come prepared. I tell Axel, the friendly receptionist, what I would like to see and do here.
Top of my list are the fabled Burundi drummers. I don’t have time to catch a performance at Gishora Drum Sanctuary, home of the Royal Drummers of Burundi. Gishora is two hours away, and that is when road conditions are good. But perhaps there are other drummer groups, closer to Bujumbura?
I would also like to wander along the shores of Lake Tanganyika, and in Rusizi National Park. Place de l’Indépendance and the Livingstone and Stanley Stone are on my list, too. And I want to take an early morning walk around town, soaking up a bit of atmosphere. Don’t need a guide for that.
So… can all this be sorted? Especially the drummers…?
Axel calls Diem, a friend of his. As it turns out, Diem runs a travel business, covering Burundi, as well as Rwanda and DR Congo.
All over town, cars are parked randomly at or near petrol stations – by the pumps, in long queues, and at all angles on the queues.
The fuel shortage has lasted for more than three years. People are waiting for new supplies. The wait usually takes several days, sometimes weeks. And as it’s illegal to sleep in the car, people walk home at night, and back the next day.
If you live near the DRC border, you can nip across to fill your tank. Some even make a business of it, filling jerry cans and selling the petrol at black market prices back in Burundi. Illegally, of course.
The shortage is a result of a lack of foreign currency to import petroleum. Burundi needs 30 million USD per month, but only generates 15 million from exports.
My hotel has no electricity 90% of the time during my stay. Solar power provides the bare necessities. For me, that means a hot night, and not being able to charge my phone and laptop. For people living their daily lives here, it is much more challenging. Public transport is practically at a stand-still. Bikes, motorbikes and tuk-tuks are not allowed in the city centre. People now have to walk to work or school. That can take several hours. Afterwards, the road home is equally long.
Another disastrous result is power cuts. To produce electricity you need fuel, and essential health services rely on fuel and power. A poignant example earlier this year, was a pushback in the country’s measles vaccination programme for children. Vaccines must be kept refrigerated.
At least the fuel shortage means less traffic on the roads, I hear. Looking for the silver lining is admirable. On the other hand – considering the present traffic, I shudder to think what it’s like with sufficient fuel.
Soon Diem appears with his colleague Eras. I’m eager to find out about the drummers. Are there any near here? Any performances this afternoon, by any chance? Or tomorrow morning?
Diem makes a few phone calls. We will go to Rusizi National Park. Drummers hang out there.
Usually, this group – one of 16 in the country – perform and practice in the national park, just inside the entrance. But not now. The park is flooded. Has been since July.
But that does not stop them. Off they go, fetching their drums, hauling them across the water. The drums look heavy – and they are: 47 kg!
Setting up just outside the gate, next to the road, where the ground is dry. All ready to play, just for me.
The performance is a lively one – with drummers and dancers, about 15 in all.
Some double as acrobats, doing high jumps, flexing strong muscles, and demonstrating some serious balancing skills.
The show soon catches the eyes and ears of passersby, and soon there are lots of us, all enjoying the impromptu performance and joining in the dance.
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