On the road to Kigutu

The last time I left you, I was tearing up the dance floor in Bujumbara. The next day began the final leg of my journey: the trip to Kigutu and the clinic. Ten of us crowded into the van, and among the ten of us, as you can see, were two soldiers, armed with AK-47's. I don't know about you, but I am not in the habit of being chaperoned by AK-47 toting soldiers. However, the protocol here is that we don't travel anywhere outside the clinic without our armed guards. I certainly don't have a problem with that.

The trip along Lake Tanganyika gave me a sense of elation. I was in Africa, certainly not as a tourist. No, I was about to begin what I had always wanted to do: work with local doctors in a rural clinic setting in Africa. I had trepidation on what I faced in the coming weeks, but there was also immense joy that I would actually be doing it in the next 24 hours.

We arrived at the clinic about 4 P.M., after having traveled 45 minutes over a bumpy dirt road up to the clinic. Every new bump radiated up and down my spine, especially because I was sitting in the back of the van, crowded in among eight other people. But any pain I felt vanished as soon as I stepped out of that van. I was greeted warmly, even effusively by several local mothers, their babies strapped to their back, African style.

I give you now some pictures of that first-day at the Clinic, my home for the next five weeks.

One of the most amazing life experiences I have ever had. The children are having a Sunday evening dance and music class in the community center.

Three small children watching the dance class.

On the mountain top overlooking Lake Tanganyika.

Overlooking the lake at sunset from the top of the hill above the clinic. Next to where I am standing is the water tower that supplies clean, filtered water to the clinic and the village of Kigutu below it. If only more of Africa had the ability to have clean, unfiltered water.

Thus ended my first day at the Clinic. Tomorrow, the real work begins.