the land of a thousand hills

Okay, we'd better get one thing straight right from the start: I will never do Rwanda justice in this post.
I know it can be limiting to make statements like the one I'm about to make but I've given it much thought: Rwanda might be the most beautiful place that I've ever seen. It is absolutely idyllic. Have any of you out there ever been? Ohmyyyggooddddddd - GO!

Our trip started on Friday morning at 4:30am; being not 100% sure when the bus left (and having no way to find out - this isn't America! :)) we grabbed a mutatu and sped down empty streets into Kampala. Oh...we also didn't know where the bus station was, so a friendly wanderer led us through back alleys where we passed men brandishing a morning machete as mosque recordings were played in the background and, voila! We found the station...three hours early. The bus trip, all 11 hours of it, was a hoot! There aren't individual chairs in the buses but benches, instead; there's one TV at the front of the bus blasting Nigerian soap operas (which look strangely identical to a class video you might have made in high school - very high quality) and your temperature options are:
1.) Roast to death
2.) Become completely covered in Ugandan road dust.
And what's that? You have to go to the bathroom? Sure, there's no bathroom on the bus but we did make one stop...where the bathrooms were a linoleum floor that you just went on. No, seriously...I didn't love it.

I've never discussed the absolute absence of governmental infrastructure in daily life in Uganda but, for example, trash cans? Forget it! People throw their trash either onto the ground or into a burn pile. When the bus to Kigali hits the Ugandan border everyone is forced to throw all trash and plastic bags out into Uganda - Rwanda isn't interested in your garbage! We all exited the bus and walked over the border, through customs, etc. We got to haggle for the exchange between shillings and francs - Rwanda is shockingly expensive for an African country...until you see the country, that is. We also probably pissed off every single border officer by asking for our stamps to be put into specific places - what muzungus! But what can I say, I like a well organized passport.

Now let me tell you a little bit about the land of a thousand hills. They have paved roads! There are drainage ditches! Trash cans! The bodas give you a helmet to wear! I almost cried when someone asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. We even had a TV in our room in Kigali - this is huge, people. HUGE! Kigali, Rwanda's capital, is a town that's situated over several hills and is just absolutely beautiful. All of Rwanda is rolling hills; verdant countryside and crops covering every undulation, no matter how steep. The fact that Rwanda wasn't dubbed "The pearl of Africa" has to be simply because Churchill had already given the name to Uganda. As I initially stated, there's no way to convey how exquisite it is.

Africans, broadly, are beyond helpful. If a stranger asks where something is, a local will drop what they're doing and escort them there. In our case, they also helped us translate; Rwandans speak Swahili and French and to say I'm limited in both is being generous. I do loooove saying "Bon Soir", though, in a sing-songy voice. Rwandan's are no exception in their helpfulness and as our kindly boda drivers were escorting us through the hills of Kigali on Friday night, (there were street lights, by the way:)) I was overtaken by the most comforting sense of calm and assurance, an understanding that I could see what I want very clearly; sort of - oh! of course! It was so ...relaxing...and something that I've never experienced with so much certainty and clarity.

On Saturday morning we walked around the city, giggling like school girls over the fact that this place sells cheese. We also paid a visit to the Colline Hotel, who's story was made famous by the movie Hotel Rwanda.

When outsiders think of Rwanda (myself included) the genocide is a first image. The beginning of April is the anniversary and 2010 marks 16 years passed.

The Rwandan people are a beautiful and welcoming people but there is a distinct vein of sadness running through each of them. Everyone wore a purple wrist or neckband this week in remembrance of the tragedy; there are signs on the highway speaking of the tragedy and ills of the genocide but mostly, you know how the remembrance is felt? Through the exceptional kindness of the people. To me, it seemed that all of the pettiness and grudges that seem to come hand in hand with humanity have been shed. They've realized that everyone struggles, everyone has the potential to make mistakes of massive proportions and regret them immediately; but in the end we're all trying to get through life and be loved. I felt a sense of radiant love so often as I explored the country.
Saturday afternoon we went to the Kigali Memorial Center, easily one of the best exhibits I've seen. It discusses the genocide in depth and also designates a section to many of history's other such events. I am not really ready to talk about the center as it deeply impacted me and I'm not sure what to say; know that there isn't a dry eye walking out of that place; that the Rwandans are often overcome with emotion and faint or have to be helped out. And also know that the overarching message that spans the entirety of the aftermath material is one of forgiveness. These people want to forgive; can you imagine being able to forgive the neighbor that you watched kill your entire family with a machete? That mindset is mind boggling to me but why not forgive, right? It could almost be viewed as a selfish act, releasing yourself from carrying that burden. Just sitting here and thinking about the exhibit makes me tear up again.
That afternoon we attempted to go to another memorial, a church where dozens of people were murdered after being betrayed by their priest. We got in the taxi with much reassurance everyone understood where we were going. After several different people helping us, a walk in the rain and actually showing a security guard at "the church" our travel book, we'd "arrived". And by arrived I mean that we'd been lead to a youth group service in the basement of some gigantic Catholic church. We stayed for, maybe, four minutes and then politely bowed out. It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.

Sunday morning we departed for Kibuye, a town two hours west of Kigali on the shores of Lake Kivu. And here words fail me again - stunning. Breath taking. The place is nearly laughable in its beauty. After wandering around to find a hotel, all of us were dying to jump in the lake. As we hit the shore, a local approached us and offered us a boat ride out to "Peace Island" where we could stay for 30 minutes for 5000RWF and being the suckers we are, we jumped at the chance! We actually ended up sitting on the island until sunset alternating between swimming, doing flips off the dock and running into the guava grove to find fruit when we got hungry. The island's monkeys were a bit aggressive and we almost had a couple of nasty run in's but otherwise - ammmmmazing!!! Easily in the running for the coolest thing that I've ever done. Monday came and our initial plans of hopping the border into the DRC were spoiled by ridiculous visa fees for Danish passports. (The two girls I was traveling with are both Canadian but one uses a Danish passport - those Danes...) We set out for a church memorial near Kibuye (90% of Tutsis in Kibuye were killed during the genocide) and this time, actually found the right church.

There have been many days over the course of the past two months when I've had a very difficult time articulating what I've seen but none of them even hold a flame to this trip. I feel as though I've rambled on and not really ever conveyed my thoughts or even reached a point. I haven't had the chance yet to see my pictures but will do so and upload some on Friday. No doubt they won't do the country justice. Until then, look into flights to Kigali - seriously. :)

All the love in the world,
fes