mental snapshots

So recently, I took a journey south to meet up with some fellow PCVs. It was a lovely trip
full of tasty Mexican food and True Blood. Along with that, I got some perspective from a PCV who's been at site for over 8 months now. It's hard to think that far out, but I could see her comfort and can't wait til I get closer to that. Although, today felt quite comfortable as I walked through town to get my bread and phone credit. I was greeted with many cries of 'muzungu.' But I also got many "Racheri"s and "Umuntoni"s and smiles, that's all I need to just feel a little bit comfier.
Anywho, I was thoroughly enjoying my journey to the south, more specifically my time on my moto-taxi (my favorite method of transportation) where you're really just riding on the back of someone's motorbike you get the beauty of wind on your skin and time to appreciate and a 360° view not afforded by other means. I found myself taking mental snapshots as I went along. I was struck by so many funny and uniquely-Rwandan scenes.
The first of which was my moto driver trying to pass the giant truck ahead of us. Both cars were all over the road because of the ruts cut in by the water on the dirt road and he would speed up and move to one side...they would do the same in attempts to keep their shocks intact. It was a terribly amusing process especially after we did pass them and they then passed us, then we passed each other over and over until we hit the main road. It was especially amusing because it contributed to my slowly accumulating knowledge on Rwandan rules of the road...a great puzzle of honking and light flashing and no real appropriate side of the road to drive on (b/c usually it's right down the middle).
Then there's an image of the boys and men on bikes (you rarely see women ride them) with the big bunches of green bananas piled on the back and hanging off either side as they went to market. The best part of that image is the colors: the red dirt road, starkly contrasted by the green bananas and funny, colorful decorations all over the bikes.
As we continued down the road, we get to the part of my hood that is populated what I can only ever think of as "Lion King trees" stretching over the rolling hills, low brush and then over the river which allegedly has hippos populating it. (I have YET to see one, much to my chagrin). As we get into the city, we pull into the 'Bus Station' that is actually just a dirt clearing in the middle of many small shops with hand painted signs naming bus companies from whom you buy your ticket while the guys stand in the middle and yell the name of their company, their destination and time of departure (often, right in your ear...usually many at once). All this occurs amidst the buzz of moto taxis coming in and out and then pulling up as close as possible to the arriving buses to catch the customers getting off. My favorite though, is probably the looks on those yelling drivers faces when they try to speak to me in uncomfortable English and I reply in Kinyarwanda...the surprise and appreciation on their faces is always comforting, even if my pronunciation still leaves much to be desired.
These things make up every journey around this country, but this particular time, they froze to me and are added to my mental photo album of Rwanda (that wouldn't mean nearly as much to anyone else in its physical form even if I took those pictures with my camera).