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RichG
I thought to myself yesterday morning: "Why not try some dirt-track cycling in this charming African countryside, I didn't fit 28c tyres to be confined to tarmac!". After turning from the noisy "highway", the first km on the dirt-track was so peaceful - a lovely break from truck fumes. The second km got a bit bumpier. I passed through a village where children shouted at me excitedly. By the third km it was bumpier still and rather uncomfortable. I thought "Hah! I can just reduce my tyre pressure!". I hopped off, made my valves go PFFFT and congratulated myself, cycled a further 100m, got a pinch flat, and was then rather less smug. I found shade under a tree to begin faffing with tubes & pumps etc. I heard some male voices, and then looked up to see four men approaching, three of them holding machetes. They started talking in Kinyarwanda and I made out the words "bike" and "expensive". Uh oh!
As the obviously weaker party in any potential altercation I attempted diplomacy, and dished out the small talk. Disarm them with charm, I thought. More men came, and then more still. They were all very interested in the bicycle, but in the end I changed the tube without getting mugged. They made good-natured jokes about me (perhaps the lycra?) and one dude even helped me pump. I cycled away from a crowd of about 12-15.
Turns out Rwandan rural folk are very friendly and just happen to carry around machetes like it ain't scary. Phew.