Half-Term Holiday in Rwanda

When most people think of Rwanda, they imagine a tragic country with a violent past; a country where, in 1994, over one million innocent people were slaughtered in what was to become one of the worst genocides that the world has ever seen. However, despite its deep scars, if you delve a little deeper into Rwanda you will discover a small country that is rich is culture and full of optimism for the future. With ancient volcanoes, bamboo rainforests and the picturesque Lake Kivu, it is easy to see why tourism is rapidly becoming the country’s leading source of income. Having passed to within a stone’s throw of its border with Uganda when we trekked the gorillas in Bwinidi National Park, both me and Sophie felt that this was the perfect opportunity for us to finally visit Rwanda and learn a bit more about this diverse, yet tragic country.

We decided to travel on Monday 26^th May, and after a surprisingly smooth border crossing at Cyanika we found ourselves in Rwanda. Now, I'm not sure about anyone else, but when I walk along no-man’s land, I half-expect the scenery that surrounds me to magically change as I cross from one country to another. However, with the exception of the occasional French signpost, the Rwandan side of the border looked identical to that of the Ugandan. Our driver to the border that morning had been called Ema, and he subsequently found it rather amusing that Emma was a girls name in the UK; he was also from Rwanda, and, in an act of kindness that is so common in Africa, insisted on accompanying us across the border and helping us onto a bus. The transport that he found for us was in the form of a matatu minibus (a.k.a. tin can on wheels), which, after stopping every two minutes to squeezed more and more passengers inside, finally arrived at Musanze bus station. Having spent the best part of an hour cramped together on the backseat of the matatu, me and Sophie were very much relieved to find that the bus to our final destination of Gisenyi was considerably more comfortable; we were even allowed to have an entire seat to ourselves, rather than having to share it with two others.

Gisenyi (26th – 29th May)

Located in the north-west corner of Rwanda, the town of Gisenyi sits idyllically along the shoreline of Lake Kivu, which, with a maximum depth of over five-hundred meters, is thought to be one of the deepest lakes in the world. However, whilst this lake may appear to be a perfect example of tranquillity, it has a rather dark past as it was here that the bodies of many genocide victims were disposed of, only for them to be washed up several days later along the shoreline of the neighbouring Demographic Republic of Congo (or DRC for short). Lake Kivu is also one of only three lakes in the world that has the potential to explode; when carbon dioxide suddenly erupts from its deep waters a large explosion is produced that is capable of suffocating all living things in its path. However, these so called ‘limbic eruptions’ have only occurred twice recent history (albeit with human fatalities on both occasions), and with Gisenyi being described as the ‘St Tropez’ of Rwanda, me and Sophie decided that we would take the risk and spend three lazy days relaxing on the shore of this picturesque lake.

Having spent the best part of an hour driving past mountains and through tea plantations, we finally arrived in a small town that we thought could be Gisenyi. However, no one on the bus seemed to be able to tell us exactly where we were, and, deciding to take a gamble, we jumped off the bus into the sweltering midday sun. After walking up and down the road for the next fifteen minutes, desperately trying to find someone who spoke either English or French (Rwanda’s national language is French, although there has been a recent political move to change this all into English), we finally found a man who was able to confirm for us that we were indeed in Gisenyi. Our hotel was only a short taxi drive away, and after passing sandy beaches and rocky cliffs that reminded me of holidays in the South of France, we finally arrived at Paradise Malahide, our home for the next three nights.

Lake Kivu

The hotel itself was located on the shore of Lake Kivu, and consisted of several small bungalows that were surround by colourful flowers and lush mango trees. After waking up the sound of the waves breaking each morning it would have easy for us to convince ourselves that we were on our own little tropical island. There was also a rather intimate restaurant attached to the hotel which contained traditional wooden furniture, interesting artwork, and even an indoor campfire. With nothing to do all day apart from relaxing on the private beach and gaze out at the mountains of the neighbouring DRC, both me and Sophie were concerned that we would soon grow restless and be wanting to leave before our time there was up. However, despite only leaving the hotel once to buy water in the local village, we were never bored and those three nights went by all but too quickly. We passed our days lounging by the lake, watching the many small fishing boats leaving at sunset (only to return the following morning to the sound of chanting), whilst our evenings were spent sat in the restaurant, huddled around the campfire. The staff themselves were incredibly friendly, and would literally bend over backwards to make sure that me and Sophie were okay; we were even presented with a small cake wrapped in a  banana leaf as we were leaving for the Kigali - just in case we got hungry on the bus.

Kigali (29^th May – 1^st June) 

Now, anyone who has travelled by public transport in Africa will be all too familiar with the African version of  departure time; irrespective of what time the bus was meant to have left, it will sit in the bus station (often for several hours or more) until every seat have been filled. However, Rwanda was a breath of fresh air, as, in addition to their policy of ‘No Plastic Bags’, they insisted that all buses should leave on time. Whilst me and Sophie didn't believe this to be true, we were soon proved wrong when our bus to the capital city left exactly when it was meant to (and without all the seats being occupied). A little under three hours later we arrived at Kigali bus station, and were promptly mobbed by the mass of taxi drivers who all wanted to take us to our hotel. Whilst taxis in the UK are required to display a form of identification to confirm that they are a licenced driver and therefore safe to use, the Rwanda way to do this is to merely wave their car key at you (as if by having a vehicle confirms their eligibility as a taxi driver). After picking one of these drivers at random, we proceeded to drive to our hotel, ‘Heaven Inn’, which we had booked for the next three nights. Being more of a restaurant than a hotel, ‘Heaven’ consisted of a large outdoor dining area which had stunning views over Kigali and its surrounding hills. There was also a brand-new art gallery on site, and it was though here that the three bedrooms (ours being one of them) were located. 

The remainder of our afternoon was spent exploring Rwanda’s capital and indulging in a little bit of ‘westernised’ culture. With indoor shopping centres, coffee shops and a multi-screen cinema, it would have been easy to mistake Kigali for a European city; with a supermarket that sold an array of western food, including ‘Marmite’, ‘Nutella’ and even ‘Dorset Cereal’ (albeit for about ten times the price of what we would usually pay for it in the UK), Kagando and its small village market was soon becoming all but a distant memory. By the time that we arrive back at ‘Heaven Inn’ the opening night of the art gallery was fully under way, and all the ex-pats in Rwanda were there to join in with the celebrations (or at least that was how it appeared to me and Sophie who had grown accustomed to being the only white people in a small Ugandan village). Neither of us felt partially sociable that night, and after eating dinner we promptly retreated to our room, leaving the mingling and art-themed talk to people who were considerably much cooler than ourselves.  

Dorset Cereal selling for £10 in Kigali

Whilst we could have wallowed in westernised comforts for our entire stay in Kigali, both me and Sophie felt that we could not have come all the way to Rwanda without spending at least a small amount of time at the genocide memorial. Having decided to dedicate our second day in the capital to doing just this, we passed the better part of the morning walking from exhibition to exhibition, leaning more about the violent history of this country. The memorial was spilt into three sections, with the first being about Rwandan Genocide itself. It was here that we learnt about how in 1994 over one million innocent Tutsi's were slaughter by the Hutu government in just a hundred days; all whilst the rest of the world looked on and did nothing. By targeting the women and children, those who were the most important for the succession of the Tutsi tribe, the results were devastating. Even in those who survived, the lasting effects of torture and sexual abuse left deep running scars that are still present today. And if the stories weren't sad enough, there was a room at the end where the victims’ family could place a photo of their loved ones, thereby ensuring that the world would never forget their faces.

The second section of the memorial highlighted some of the genocides that had occurred elsewhere in the world, and by the time that we reach the third exhibit both me and Sophie were feeling very sombre. However, whilst the previous two sections had been upsetting, the last one was harrowing enough to break even the coldest of hearts. For it was here that a few families had created a tribute to the children that they had lost, and as we walked from wall to wall reading the tragic stories of those innocent lives that would never grow up, we couldn't quite believe how evil some human beings could be. We learnt about each child’s favourite toy and their life-long ambitions, and our hearts broke every time we read about how they had been brutally murdered; for some this was too much and they had to leave the room in a flood of tears. One theme that seemed to stand out throughout the whole memorial was the fact that the Rwandan Genocide should never have occurred; not just because of the moral injustice of it, but also because the rest of the world stood by and just let it happen. As me and Sophie later walked through the rose gardens and past the mass graves, we reflected upon the main message to be taken from the genocide; that the rest of the world should learn from this tragedy, and that it should never be allowed to happen again. 

It is fair to say that following this rather emotional morning both me and Sophie felt rather subdued, and whilst it was a very educational visit we both wanted to leave as soon as possible. After finding a taxi back to the city centre, we spent the remainder of our afternoon sat in Bourbon Coffee Lounge, consoling ourselves with endless fruit smoothies and over-indulgent food. We had arranged to have dinner that evening with an old friends of Sophie’s who was now working in Kigali; they had originally met in France and hadn't seen each other for almost nine years. However, through the power of Facebook they had both realised that they would be in Rwanda at the same time, and somehow we all ended up sat together in small Italian restaurant overlooking the hills that surrounded Kigali, eating Pizza and sharing our stories of what it was really like to work in Africa.

The following day was Saturday, and was unfortunately our last full day in Rwanda. After passing our morning sat in yet another coffee shop, we spent the afternoon doing some last minute shopping and sightseeing; if anyone has seen the film ‘Hotel Rwanda’ they will be all too familiar with ‘Hotel des Mille Collines’, as it was here that hundreds of Tutsi’s were hidden during the Genocide. After a picnic lunch in our hotel bedroom (as, in a bid to save money, me and Sophie had opted to make our own lunch), we decided that we couldn't have come all this way to Kigali and not visit this famous hotel. And so, after concluding that money was no longer an issue, we proceed to have afternoon tea in the garden of ‘Hotel des Mille Collines’, watching the sun set for the last time over the thousand hills of Kigali. 

We spent our last evening in Rwanda at an open mike night in our hotel, and the following morning we set off bright and early for the bus station. As we were stood around waiting our bus to leave we met a Canadian medical student who was travelling to Mbarara for his elective, thereby proving my theory that, no matter where in the world you are, there will always be a medical student. After taking our seats on the most luxurious bus that I have ever been on in Africa, we set off for the border crossing at Katuna. However, unlike our previous crossing, this one was a lot more hectic. By following the general flow of the crowd, we somehow made it through customs and once again found ourselves back on Ugandan soil. For the next few hours we entertained ourselves by watching the Ugandan music videos that were playing in the bus; whilst the rap videos about love and money weren't too dissimilar to those that we have in England, the song about vesicle-vaginal fistulas (and the devastating effect that they have on the women who suffer from them) was certainly different!

We were met in Mbarara by our driver Sabuni, and after bidding goodbye to the medical student we set off on the long drive back to Kagando. We spent the remainder of this journey worrying about how hard it was going to be for us to readjust to our simple lives back in the village, especially after a few days of westernised overindulgence. However, as we passed familiar places along the way we slowly began to forget Kigali, and by the time that we had arrived back at our humble abode, Rwanda was all but a distant memory.