Cycling...the Universal Language

2 weeks have past since arriving at my new endeavor here at the Africa Rising Cycling Center, the home of Team Rwanda.  Before embarking on this trip, I fielded all kinds of questions and statements heeding warnings around the unknown from friends, family & cohorts.  From, “Oh you'll get Malaria or step on a landmine” to “are the (native) people and countries safe” and “how will you eat and get clean water?”  I've now seen first-hand that much of this is just fear of the unknown and being naive Americans living a sheltered 1st world life.  And I don't mean that in a bad way, it's just the honest truth and I fall in that category, until now.  Believe me I'm a small town country boy from Kentucky that lucked my way with some hard work and perseverance into some cool roles and opportunities over the years, so being in Africa is no light ordeal.  But the stance I took with the trip here was with respect.  It's the same approach I take when facing most new things and similar to an analogy of riding a new technical element on the trail. If you are too timid you will stall out and never conquer the crux, but if you are over-confident then it may just smack you in the face.

So I came in with an open mind with the goal to learn, live and lead.  It's a happy balance of confidence in my skills to do what I do; coach and inspire.  Mix in a bit of flexibility as to not be so rigid that I can't see ideas and signs that may help me grow as an individual and professional.  All the while trying to experience the culture, network with the people and understand a bit more about everything around me.  I'm already seeing that this mindset is accomplishing this with the people & roles, but also it is helping me unearth a deeper understanding of myself.

I'd originally had my eyes opened when traveled to visit Heather in South Africa in 2009 when she was working with Autism implementation in schools and universities.  But even with getting out of the cities on that trip into cultural villages and staying in a hostel at Coffee Bay, the staff here joked calling it “Africa light” during our initial conversations.  But really as I've learned thus far, the natives are really just excited to be acknowledged with a wave, a kind reciprocation of “haaalo” or “good morning” (even though it's often afternoon!) or a simple head nod.  Trust me I'm one of the best at saying howdy, tipping the helmet with a nod or offering a wave from the handlebars to anyone out enjoying themselves, but that's quickly become very difficult here with the population density.  Don't quote me, as internet is so slow and spotty here and I didn't check stats, but I've been informed that Rwanda is similar land mass to Maryland that has less than 6 million residents. Rwanda is at 11.5 million and growing at a rate of 8% per year. So literally the roads are always littered with residents walking, biking or taxiing somewhere.  It always sounds like rush hour as taxi vans, motos and buses spend more time on the horns than off as they skirt around the bicycle taxis and pedestrians.

And to touch on the bicycle taxis; they will humble your ego!  No matter how strong or fit I or anyone ever will be, I feel like a true chump riding past a guy on a steel singlespeed with a rear seat welded of re-bar hauling another person, if lucky, or more likely 2 or 3 huge stuffed bags of carrots, potatoes or even concrete.  The wheels are wobbling, the pedals are only a bent axle shaft and they are just muscling thru it in wearing a blown out indistinguishable pair of shoes or flip flops.  And the terrain is no joke here.  The “flattest” ride I've been able to do as “an easy recovery route” has thus far had 2400ft of climbing in under 2hrs.  So I've had my mind blown more than once seeing these guys crush up slight grades in the saddle at 35rpm or when it gets steep pushing the bike like a NFL tackle dummy sled.  The descending is what really dropped my jaw since being surrounded by volcanoes means passes with consistent 5-10% grades lasting several kilometers. These African Evil Kinevils bomb at 30-45mph fully loaded with smiles on there face as they keep proximity to us on dialed carbon race bike with buttery smooth and sexy Campy Super Record that's tuned to perfection by the full-time team mechanics.  It's just ridiculous they just make it happen and I respect the strength they have inspired in me in the short time I've been here.

I've always loved the avenue the bicycle leads to relationships and seeing new places, and this is no exception. Initially I was hesitant to head out of the 24hr/day, 7d/wk guarded & gated complex we call home for my 1st ride but luckily a veteran rider Rafiki Uwimana, aka Kiki, is both fluent in Rkinarwanda (native language) but also English, so he took me out for a solid thrashing to blow the jet lag out of the pipes. All the native kids, bike taxis, and general residents chanted “Mizungu” as we passed and I asked what they say. He simply said “white person” as he chuckled and seemed impervious that anything was even being yelled.  I was enlightened to deeper translation riding mountain bikes just today; it's actually better translated as “the person that keeps coming around” because to natives, white people originally all looked so similar at initial and rare occasion that the description stuck.  I chuckled of the irony as I was informed this history while climbing a bumpy dirt road that would be a back country 4wd road in the US, that here in Rwanda was state road to access villages, schools and churches just yesterday. Stepping back, as we opened up more to conversation, I began to understand many things.  I wasn't in danger or shouldn't feel threatened by the locals.  The fact that seeing me, a really white boy from KY, just blew there mind because they don't see that many Caucasians, so they relate our presence as important. He stated it nicely, “because “I'm coach” of the team now, you're hero!” as he pointed at me.

As we rode longer and we conversed more and picked up the pace challenging one another on the steep pitches and started taking some alternating pulls on the rare false flats between climbs, Rafiki and I just clicked to a higher level of trust and mutual respect.  The conversations deepened as he showed me the team sprints lines while naming the passes and mini summits we were tackling as the kilometers ticked by when he said, “Cycling is my drug!” and I knew instantly his passion and felt more connected, because it made him feel alive, it was his fix, and hiding deep within; it was his way off the streets when he was separated from his family living on the streets for years after the genocide.  The strength of this individual has many more layers than most anyone will see or conjure
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It's different here for sure but the bicycle has paved the way once again.  I say this because of the immediate trust, respect and relationships that have been laid in the short time I've been here.  I was conditioned to be aware, cautious, or even scared what I was to face in Central Africa but I now know that I have no clue the fear like these riders have experienced or hardship they have endured.

As next week starts, I will get a chance to be around more of the riders as they come to stay the week on ARCC grounds while the country memorializes and remembers with the 20th anniversary of the Genocide.  It is no light ordeal as 1 day the entire country basically shuts down and then the entire week is taken as remembrance.  Most of the riders fall in the age range where they personally or one of more of their immediate family members were directly affected. I hope to get to know each one of these guys at a deeper level because I know it will be relationships that I carry forever.