Rwanda: Just South of the Mountains of the Moon

As it turned out, our landing in Africa’s most populous country was perfectly smooth.  The young driver was already waiting, arranged by warzone specialist friend Connie, who has a whole network of transport contacts on the DRC-Rwanda border, overseen by a taxi-lord called Bienvenue.  Despite looking barely out of his teens, and despite sitting the furthest possible distance away from his steering wheel, he was a safe and charming chauffeur, and we got along more or less fine with a mix of broken French-English.

Nothing like having your first stop being a genocide museum.  But so it was.  My bags received the most rigorous and intimate inspection at the entrance - almost as if to say, 'do you realise the weight of what you have come to see, and can we trust you, or anyone else, in this world of ours?'.  It’s hard to do any of it justice – the extremely complex history behind the genocide, the immense scale of the killings which took as many as a million lives in a hundred days, and the extreme and almost inexplicable tragedy.  The graves in the memorial gardens hold the remains of over 250,000 individuals, and new remains are still added on a regular basis, as they are uncovered, close to twenty years after the genocide took place.   I spent a long, shocking, time there. 

David Mugiranezi

Age: 10

Favorite sport: Football

Enjoyed: Making people laugh

Dream: Becoming a doctor

Last Words: "Mama, UNAMIR will come for us"

Cause of Death: Tortured to death

Aurore Kirezi

Age: 2

Favourite drink: Cow's milk

Favourite game: Hide and seek games with her big brother

Behaviour: Very talkative

Cause of Death: Burnt alive at the Gikondo Chapel

"When I am at the market, in the midst of a large crowd, I always think I might just find my brothers"

Rose, 10

 Despite some academic and historical knowledge of conflict in the Great Lakes region, this visit raised so many questions for me, including about how a society can possible recover from such a devastating trauma.  How does one even broach the topic with locals? In the days to follow, I saw memorial signs all over the countryside. The visitors at the museum were incredibly attentive – most appeared to be from other African countries, as well as some Rwandans.  There is also, of course, the question of how history is constructed in particular ways.  The museum narrative posits that Rwanda was harmoniously united and at peace prior to Belgian colonization and the spread of Christianity – an hypothesis which seems deceptively simplistic, and accredits too much agency to the colonial powers in shaping ethnic difference. 

 As we departed Kigali, the heavy torrential rain began, and stayed with us all the way to Musanze and beyond.  The country is spotlessly clean – one of the markers, perhaps, of Kagame’s authoritarian and disciplinarian leadership.  We reached Kinigi, at the foot of the extinct Sibyinyo volcano,  and on the edge of the national park, in the late afternoon.  The guesthouse was perfect – simple  and no frill, but clean, tidy and spacious, with great service from the manager on duty.  The rain subsided briefly before continuing at full force for another 4 hours!  Connie arrived from Goma after dark, with one of the taxi-lord’s minions, under a sizeable umbrella.  We caught up over some chewy chicken and rice with a glorious groundnut sauce. 

Connie moved from Afghanistan to Goma about a year ago. There, just across the border, which is about an hour and a half’s drive away, the M23 rebels surrendered just three weeks ago, in the wake of a rare offensive by the UN and government forces .  There is substantial evidence for Rwandan government support for the M23, reportedly comprised of mostly Tutsi, who had amassed some $2m worth of equipment and arms, allegedly to counter Hutu extremists who fled Rwanda after the genocide.  General Bosco Ntaganda, a warlord involved with multiple militia groups and mining interests over the past decade, including the M23, handed himself over to the International Criminal Court earlier this year.  He apparently drove to the US Embassy in Kigali under the cover of a baseball cap, and no doubt received a cold shoulder when he tried to get an unscheduled appointment with the Ambassador – until they realized who he was. He will face multiple charges of war crimes at the ICC, including mass rape, murder, torture and the forced conscription of child soldiers.  Other armed groups remain at large, and as FA reports, "their alliances, leadership structures and even names keep shifting". 

In other news, Goma’s appeal is much increased once you subtract the M23's shelling activities:  not only is Lake Kivu idyllic, but Connie has a local mani-pedi guy called Vanilla.  But, back to Rwanda. In the rainy season, you need to get everything, or almost everything, done before about 1pm.  The very early morning was breathtaking, with cool and dewy views over clear fields and misty mountains on the horizon.  The park HQ was just a few hundred metres away, and despite being low season, there were already multiple groups of tourists gathering for hiking and silverback gorilla trips.   All of the options are very expensive, and the Rwandan parks authority must generate a tremendous income each year.  There is a community conservation scheme in action too, which channels some funds and employment to the heavily populated areas immediately adjacent to the park. 

 We spent several hours in the capable hands of our guide Placide (you can’t beat the names in this place, right?!) tiptoeing along very muddy paths into the tall bamboo highland forests which are home not only to the gorillas, whose populations are recovering beautifully, but also to the endangered Golden Monkeys.  Encroached upon by dense human populations, deforestation and armed conflict, their diminishing habitat seems to be their largest threat.

These creatures are all about fresh bamboo shoots.  They break and munch, break and munch, jump, break and munch, jump, jump, munch and so it goes on.  This time of year, the juiciest shoots are up at the canopy level, so it’s quite hard to get a good view of the monkeys, but we were lucky to have them come down to ground level after about an hour.  Due to the frequent visitors, they are habituated to humans and very relaxed.   We spent a fantastic hour or so observing a group of about 20.  

After some mint tea at a nearby lodge, Connie and I went in search of two mini-lakes and a tea plantation, between Musanze and Gisenyi.  We didn’t achieve much but we did get a good walk and gather a substantial group of excited children who seemed dead set on following us around no matter how far we continued.  To get home we hopped in a minibus taxi with a church group in full song, though sadly most of them disembarked not long afterwards.  Once back in Musanze we braved the local motorbike-taxis for the 8km trip back to the guesthouse.

Sunday brought an extended rural excursion (some would call it ‘getting lost’) to the twin lakes of Ruhondo and Burera, along never-ending and windy dirt roads through dozens of beautiful hills and valleys, all the sides heavily planted and terraced.  It’s difficult to imagine what the indigenous vegetation looked like, before the arrival of exotics and before rapid population growth that has necessitated extensive subsistence farming.  Anxious to please, both our driver (yes, yet another of the taxi-lord Bienvenue’s crew) and all the local peasants took the approach of affirming at all times that we were on the correct road(s), despite not having a clue.

Four hours later, we did eventually make it back to the main road, having survived 4x4 terrain in a sedan, and after taking on board some advice (and a passenger) from a pedestrian whose jacket was appropriately labelled ‘Operation Joint Endeavour’.  We stopped for an enormous grilled potato on the side of the road, and I bought a kilogram of delicious fresh peas to take back to Jo’burg. Connie hopped in a cab heading for Goma with two guys who turned out to be UN Afghans (of course).   And I ventured back to Johannesburg with the peas.  I can strongly recommend my new recipe with mint and orange.

Uganda Tea Bags and Kampala’s Lord Mayor

 Entebbe airport, unlike Johannesburg, has free WiFi.  And the speeds are good - at least when the waiting lounge is empty.   When my flight is delayed, I realize that there is no information desk (at all) in departures, but for a Googler that’s minor compared to WiFi. 

The airport, fresh from the ‘80s,  houses multiple small duty free shops, all of which stock exactly the same produce, but - wait for it - at different prices.  So for exactly the same Uganda Tea Bags you could either pay $4 or $6, or any other price within a $3 dollar range.  Unique market forces at play, clearly, and more physical exercise for the more discerning customer who is willing to walk from store to store to find the best deal.  No names mentioned.

I am supposed to be flying Air Uganda, but on arrival they insist that I check in at Rwandair.  Ok, mix’n’match.  Then, having been informed a week earlier that my Air Uganda flight was going to be pushed forward, they then announce that the Rwandair flight will be delayed.    “Ten to Five”, they say over the intercom, “Ten to Five”.  The prospect of another 8 hours at the airport is far from thrilling, but about half an hour later I realize that they mean “Ten Two Five, Ten Two Five”,  as in Ten Twenty Five, which is thankfully only an hour or so away.

In other airport observations, the Rotary Club of Entebbe has a long line of see-through charity donation boxes against a wall.  Rotary Clubs, whilst American in origin, are always the dead giveaway of a British postcolony, and seem to be one of the longest lasting postcolonial institutions (possibly with the most elderly members too).  Meanwhile a military aircraft with a US flag on its tail has just landed on the runway overlooking Lake Victoria.  A group of UN peacekeepers from Bangladesh are waiting inside, all crisply kitted out.  Entebbe is the hub for all peacekeeper movement in and out of the troubled eastern DRC.

Back in Kampala, the city’s Lord Mayor, who is a major opposition figure to President Museveni, was arrested a few days ago, apparently for no good reason, and yesterday there was a strong police presence outside the city court house, where I saw an insignificant crowd gathering to jubilate or protest, depending on the outcome.  Last night the mayor was acquitted, but by 6am this morning when my driver collected me, he had been re-arrested.   Indeed, familiar themes from another country to the south: the utility of harassment and the instrumentalization of disorder.

Said driver, who talks non-stop about local politics all the way the airport, despite the early hour and despite having had only about 4 hours sleep, tells me that there are laws around public gatherings, and that any planned gathering greater than three or four needs to be reported to the police in advance.

The city reminds me of Harare – albeit with an extra dose of jungle, traffic congestion, pollution and homophobia.   There are rather a lot of laidback police and security guards around, wielding AKs, sometimes whilst lying on the grass.  Yet people are relaxed and it’s far safer than somewhere like Johannesburg, despite the increased building security checks following the Westgate terrorist attack in Kenya. 

  

Eventually I board a two-prop 30-seater Rwandair plane, welcomed by possibly the most articulate, pleasant and polite steward I’ve seen in the past two years of international travel. And he warns us sincerely that our descent to Kigali, during the height of the tropical rainy season, is likely to be a bit nerve wracking.