Spinning the Globe

60 JAN-FEB 2011mental_floss

SPINNING THE GLOBEburundi

60 SEPT-OCT 2010mental_floss

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THE BASICS: Burundi is a small, heart-shaped nation nestled in the center of Africa. It keeps a relatively low profile, mostly because its troubled neighbors—Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo—get most of the attention.

THE LAY OF THE LAND: Burundi is cov-ered with sprawling farms, green hills, and lush mountains—all thanks to the coun-try’s location near the source of the Nile.

CAFFEINE JUNKIES: Coffee accounts for a whopping 80 percent of Burundi’s exports, although you’d be hard-pressed to find locals who drink it; most prefer tea!

BONJOUR: While Kirundi is the nation’s official language, French has been rolling off of tongues ever since 1916, when Belgian colonists first planted their flag there.

CHILDREN AT PLAY: Almost half of Burundi’s population is under the age of 14. The country lost nearly an entire gen-eration of adults during its bloody, 12-year civil war. When the violence finally ceased in 2005, there was a baby boom. Today, it’s rare for children to know their grandparents, and the few elderly people around are referred to as mzee, a Swahili term of high respect.

THE BUZZ: If it was big for Spike Lee in the 1980s, then it’s huge for Burundian women now. The cutting-edge hairstyle around the capital city of Bujumbura is none other than the flat top. Paired with brightly colored sunglasses, women walk around looking like they’re headed to an ’80s theme party, even though they’re just keeping up with the times.

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Say Nissan! For years, couples getting hitched in Burundi’s capital of Bujumbura flocked to one

place to shoot their wedding photos—the gigantic tree on the edge of town. As a city fixture, the towering landmark became the place for young couples to snap their post-nuptial glamour shots. Then a funny thing happened: A Nissan dealership set up shop across the street, complete with manicured hedges and rows of beautiful flowers. These days, newlyweds have abandoned the tree in favor of the dealership’s lush foliage. In fact, brides and grooms often wait in line to get their photos taken there. So the next time you’re skimming a Burundi wedding album, be sure to inspect the background. You might spot a Nissan sign glowing in the distance.

SPINNING THE GLOBEbolivia


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Just Beat ItNobody keeps a beat like Burundians. Here, drumming isn’t just a hobby, it’s a national

art form, passed down from father to son for centuries. The performances follow a traditional pattern: The drummers begin solemnly, carrying the 60-lb. drums on their heads and beating them slowly in unison. But the mood changes quickly as the drummers start chanting and jumping while they pound to the beat. The experi-ence is as visually stunning as it is to hear. In fact, Burundian drumming is so unique that it has gained fans around the globe. The sound and style have influenced artists ranging from The Clash to Joni Mitchell.

Three’s a CrowdBurundi’s ethnic makeup is com-prised of three tribes. The Hutus account for 85 percent of the

population, while the Tutsis make up 14 per-cent. But a third group, the Twa, have the oldest claim to the land. More commonly known as pygmies, the Batwa (Twa in the plural) are the oldest recorded inhabitants of central Africa. Yet, their minimal numbers—only about 80,000 are living today—have marginalized the tribe’s opportunities for power and acceptance. Worse still, the Twa’s small stature continues to be a source of dis-crimination. Once independently established as farmers and hunters, the Batwa now lack food, water, education, and medicine. The average life expectancy of a Twa person is only 28 years.

The Real Crocodile HunterLake Tanganyika boasts luxurious beaches and perfect temperatures year-round, but

it also has one major turn-off: Gustave, a 65-year-old crocodile. By all accounts, Gustave is a terror. The 20-foot croc is rumored to have killed more than 200 people, and worse, he kills for sport. According to local reports, the grumpy croc leaves most bodies uneaten. Incredibly, all of this has turned Gustave into the nation’s biggest star. His work has inspired at least two films, including the 2007 horror flick Primeval. Of course, some locals have tried to fight back. Witnesses claim that the beast bears four bullet holes, including three on his right side and one on his head—though none of that has convinced Gustave to change his behavior.

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Dr. Livingstone, I Presume?In the late 1800s, two famous explorers, David Livingstone and Henry Morton Stanley, left their

mark on Burundi. Dr. Livingstone, a Scottish missionary, originally journeyed to Africa in the 1840s to share his spiritual and medical practices. But he became so enchanted by the land that he never left, and he set out to explore as much of Africa as possible. Some 20 years later, his exotic adventures had made him an international superstar. So in 1867, when rumors circulated that a hostile tribe had captured Livingston and brutally murdered him, it made head-lines around the world. The New York Herald commissioned Henry Stanley, a Welsh journalist and explorer, to sail to Africa and find out what really happened. It took a year, but Stanley succeeded in find-ing Dr. Livingstone, healthy and alive in Tanzania. Upon seeing him, Stanley uttered the famous greeting, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” The two became fast friends,

and Stanley decided to follow Livingstone on his next mission to discover the true source of the Nile. The duo headed north-west through Burundi, and on November 25, 1871, they marked their path by carv-ing their names into a rock overlooking Lake Tanganyika. The landmark remains a major tourist attraction to this day.

Please Feed the Animals The Musée Vivant zoo in Bujumbura gives new mean-ing to the phrase “petting

zoo.” While the animals are kept in cages, visitors are welcome to go behind the bars for a closer look. If you want even more excitement, you can sign up to become a zookeeper for a day, an experience that often involves tossing live guinea pigs to the crocodiles and alligators. Also, be sure to visit the gift shop, where—for the right price—you can leave the zoo with a living, breath-ing souvenir. Good luck at customs!

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I ’ve heard the line before: An orphanage is no place for a child. And as I rode over the muddy hills in Gitega toward Homes of Hope children’s facility, I feared the worst.

But as we pulled up, I could see that “facil-ity” was the wrong word for this place. The setting looked less like an orphanage and more

like a movie set. Between the flower-lined brick paths and the emerald green grass, I half-expected munchkins

to pop out of the bushes. And then, suddenly, they did. A swarm of giggling children appeared from nowhere and followed me to my room.

For most of these children, Homes of Hope isn’t a pit-stop; it is, and will be, their only home. The orphan-age is structured like a traditional household, with one “mother” for every eight children. The campus has four houses, each of which contains a family, and they’re all connected by walkways to create a neighborhood feel. The campus also features a brand new soccer field and a playground. As long as it’s not time for school or a meal, the children are allowed to roam the campus freely.

After sunset, I strolled toward a building where all 32 kids were gathered for dinner. (They usually dine in their own homes, but when a visitor comes, it’s cause for celebration.) When I stepped into the bright yellow room, the children were eating, sitting in a circle on top of vibrant, colored mats. They were a mix of Twa, Hutu, and Tutsi—the three major ethnic groups in Burundi that have clashed so violently in recent decades. But here, the children hugged each other, held hands, and bickered like siblings. Freddy Tuyizere, the orphanage’s founder, said that this is Homes of Hope’s goal: to rec-oncile the ethnic divisions of their nation and to create a diverse family of leaders.

Grabbing some tea, I took a seat next to a small boy in red overalls. He stared at me, silently, as he chewed his food. When a tray of bananas was placed in the

center of the circle for dessert, the room erupted into a mix of screaming, laughing, and singing. Before I knew what was happening, the kids were crawling on my lap and squishing my face with their hands. Then the staff began singing in Kirundi, and all of the kids chimed in with the chorus—all except for that little boy.

He is new to Homes of Hope. Freddy Tuyizere tells me that it takes a while for new orphans to open up. At first, many of them won’t speak, or even look you in

the eye. When children arrive, they have nothing, not even a birthday. Their ages are esti-mated, and based on that, they are given a date of birth—one they keep forever. The culture of celebrating birthdays is new to Burundi, and Homes of Hope

has adopted the tradition. Newly equipped with an age, a family, and a home, these kids have a foundation on which to grow.

The next morning, the future of Burundi is squirm-ing but attentive during an English lesson. The school bell rings, and the children run outside to play. On the grass, I spot that quiet little boy from the night before, rolling in the sun and laughing. Like so much in this scarred country, he is starting to open up.

For most of these children, Homes of Hope isn’t a pitstop; it is, and will be, their only home.

REPORTER’S NOTEBOOK

In this orphanage, life isn’t all hard knocks

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THE ROAD TO SOMEWHERE

How New Construction is Changing the Outlook in Burundi BY ELEANOR PERRY-SMITH


66 JAN-FEB 2011mental_floss

D ecades ago, before the war, Bujumbura was a heavily envied African city. Mango

trees lined the shaded boulevards, and colonial homes sat proudly in rows. Each neighborhood had a local watering hole known informally as “the circle.” Anyone able to afford a drink was welcome, and the taps flowed seven days a week. As the city burgeoned, connections to the outside world grew stronger. A newly formed post-al service gave companies access to foreign markets, which in turn created more jobs.

Then came the war in 1993. City plan-ning, communications, agriculture, foreign investment, and all aspects of normal Burundian life screeched to a halt. Nearly an entire generation of adults was wiped out in the fighting. Neighborhoods were decimated, and roads were left in ruins. It became almost impossible to send a let-ter from one town to the next, let alone communicate with the outside world. For the next 12 years, the bones that once sup-ported the country’s development broke, again and again.

Sticks and StonesWhen peace finally arrived in 2005, Burundi promptly started rebuilding itself. With the help of religious and non-government organizations, build-

ings began to sprout up everywhere. These days, half-completed houses line the streets—not from dilapidation or destruction, but because they’re on their way up. Why so much halted construc-tion? Most Burundians don’t have bank accounts, so they invest by building new homes, adding more bricks as soon as they have the cash. Brick makers have even set up roadside stands to keep up with the demand. Also, for the first time in decades, Burundians are finding room for recreation; communities are pooling their resources to build neighborhood basketball courts and soccer fields.

Amidst all this yearning to build, how-ever, city planning has gone by the way-side. There are almost no building codes or property taxes, which means that multi-story complexes are popping up willy-nilly all across the city. Mansions rub elbows with overcrowded, two-room shacks. For its part, the government can’t (and doesn’t) care to keep pace with this free-for-all. After all, construction is a sign of growth

and modernization, and they have no desire to hinder it. Bujumbura may not look like the well-maintained, organized city of its past, but it is impossible to visit

the capital and not feel that things are alive, healthy, and growing.

Sign of the TimesDuring the war, getting around Burundi could be a navigational nightmare. Roads were destroyed and streets lacked signs. But now that peace has returned to the country, foreign investors are returning, too. One of them, the Philippine-based cell phone company Smart Communications, has come up with a clever way to label Burundi’s nameless roads while also intro-ducing their products into the country. Smart Communications is giving the country

street signs for free, under the condition that each one contain the company’s logo. Today, green street signs with the Smart Communications logo are planted on nearly every corner in Bujumbura, and cell phones are pouring into the country.

The signs are also creating the poten-tial for a residential postal system, which never existed before the war (though many citizens had P.O. boxes). But for the country to truly be linked to the world, signs aren’t enough; the nation will need passable roads. Recently, officials allocated funds from the World Bank and European Union to start road construction, and it’s clear that people are excited. When building began, droves of adoring fans gathered to watch crews as they filled every pothole.

Today, the road from Bujumbura to Gitega—once called the most dangerous highway in the world—has finally been patched up. During the war, if travelers didn’t succumb to mudslides or holes on the highway, it was the armed rebels and hijackers that would stop your car. Locals used to refer to the road as Kugarama, meaning to lie on your back, because one way or another, traveling on it would knock you down. But today, the biggest hassle on the highway is simply the traffic. As bricks and roads and cell phones invade the country, Burundi is no longer lying down; it’s dusting itself off and remember-ing what it feels like to stand tall.

Most Burundians don’t have bank accounts, so they invest by building new homes, adding more bricks as soon as they have the cash.

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