Monday morning I work up (groggy as usual) and opened the
windows to get some fresh air blowing through the house. Upon swinging open the
window and breathing in a huge breathe of air I realized I was actually
breathing in a bunch of smoke. In fact, the entire village was covered in a fog
of it, all coming from the mountain overlooking Rusumo. Now, being in Rwanda,
my first thought was that maybe that mountain is actually a volcano. If you’ve been reading the recent news out of
Guatemala, that seemed like a pretty scary thing to be happening.
I walked to work for the morning meeting and I could see the
rumor mill was already spinning. Everybody was trying to figure out just what
was going on. Many of the people I work with live in my market town, Nyakarambi,
which happens to be located on the mountain,
and seeing as they weren’t there for the meeting I could only surmise that they
had died fiery deaths in whatever was going on up there.
Later in the day I got my answer. It turns out an oil tanker
coming from Tanzania crashed into another car. As everyone got out (I can only
assume to argue about what happened. The truth is the truck drivers drive like
idiots) the tanker, being filled with oil, exploded!
Yesterday I went to visit my friend Miranda (the other
volunteer in my district) in Nyakarambi, and on the way there drove by the
scene of the accident. What I saw was insane. A giant oil tanker, charred and
black as night, was covered by about fifty people with machetes, slowly taking
it apart. It seemed crazy to me at the time, but how else would they take it
apart?! There’s obviously no tow trucks, and I’m sure somebody’s going to find
good use for a bunch of burnt metal.
I know this stuff happens back home, probably more often
that we know. The thing is when it happens here it seems all the more surreal.
