Sat 11 Oct
The priest led me across the garden and through a gap in the fence to the bus station and helped me find the right transport; this time a pick-up truck - standing room only. It was a lovely morning and being "outside" as we sped along the roads was quite a different experience from the bus. Also standing, in the cool highland air, was a little Asian girl wrapping her scarf ever tighter over her head, pulling her hands up into her anorak sleeves - laughing politely at the men’s banter, I was not sure if she was alone. At one stop there was lots of "asali" (honey) for sale. I’d taken to carrying bread and peanut butter around with me and this would make a pleasant change.

We were heading for Benarko, a refugee camp at the last road junction before the Rwanda border, but after a few hours the driver "sold" us passengers to a nearly empty minibus and we completed our journey in that. At the junction I was ushered into a saloon car taxi, already full of people (four lanky lads on the back seat), for the last 24km to the border itself.

One of the lads, a Rwandan called Christopher was returning home. He spoke English and had a pleasant nature so when at the border post he asked me to wait for him while he changed some money I complied. We walked down the hill and across the bridge. I sneaked a photo of the wonderfully silted Rusumo river as it tumbled over the impressive waterfall.