Bujumbura, Burundi

What a beautiful city.

The streets are riddled with pot holes and the traffic is a death march of every vehicles.  Humanity flows in and around the trucks, cars, motorbikes, and bicycles.  Every sense must be on alert or else…

“The man ran into me at full stride.  Through my front shirt pocket I barely felt my wallet be every so stealthily plucked.  I reacted instantly and grabbed at the man who had run into me (He had been following Jillian and I for a little while and I had already suspected he was up to no good).  He immediately began yelling at me as he passed my wallet to the next guy behind him on which I turned immediately, trying to formulate a sentence in French that would let them know of my intention to get my wallet back everyone else around me that I was getting robed. The crowd around us just stared at us.  My wallet was passed to a third boy and I turned on him, this time screaming as loud as I could.  He dropped my wallet behind himself onto the sidewalk.  They ran away into the crowd toward the marketplace.  I had my wallet.  The whole incident may have lasted 30 seconds. I laughed out loud as the realization of what had just happened and my very rash actions to fight the thieves for my wallet dawned on me.  Ah, Africa.”

Keeping alert is hard in a city that thrills the senses in every way.  The rainy season is coming and soon the air will be clear of haze and smoke from burning fields.  The lake will be clearly visible along with the Congolese mountains to the west and the Burundian hills to the east.  No wonder Burundi is called the heart of Africa.