The Country of a Thousand Hills and Place of Many Little Birds

It has taken me awhile to actually sit down and write this blog post. The delay is for many reasons. First of all, things have been very busy since we’ve been back with all sorts of activities and get togethers. Secondly, I haven’t been feeling too well so your prayers would be much appreciated. Thirdly, going to Rwanda was a very moving experience in many ways. It has taken some time to process everything I have seen and done.

My Dad recently quoted the opening line in A Tale of Two Cities, ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times’, to describe our weekend trip. I have to agree with that conclusion. Rwanda is an absolutely beautiful country. It is known as the country of a thousand hills and that is a very accurate description. Here in Masaka, the landscape is hilly but Rwanda in comparison has mountains. My eyes were glued to the window as we wound our way through the hills and valleys filled with plantations of tea, sugar cane and rice. Driving down to Kigali took an entire day. From Masaka to the border is about 4 ½ hours. We spent two hours at the border getting exit stamps from Uganda, Rwandan entrance visas, exporting and then importing the vehicle. It is an absolutely ridiculous process but worth the wait. Once in Rwanda, it took 1 ½ hours to reach the capital city of Kigali. We were booked to stay in budget accommodations because of how expensive it was to simply cross the border. When we arrived at the One Love Club and saw their cave-like rooms, we decided to find somewhere else to stay. Dad was a great navigator and we managed to find a mid-range hotel to stay at. Well worth the extra dollars. That night we went to a restaurant that had been recommended by Sue and Mark called ‘Heaven’. When we arrived they were still setting up the tables. We sat down anyways and waited for a server. A nice American lady came over and apologized for not having things set up and explained that they weren’t open until 5:30pm. We were quite puzzled because our clocks said 6pm. She kindly informed us that there is a time change when you cross over into Rwanda and we were an hour ahead. Good thing we got that sorted out sooner rather than later.

driving into Kigali

walking on the clean sidewalk from our hotel to the restaurant

moon over Kigali city at Heaven restaurant

Saturday morning we ate a later breakfast and went over to the Genocide Museum in Kigali. They had several exhibits including a very detailed account of the Rwandan genocide as well as information on other genocides throughout history. One of the most poignant moments for me was when I  walked through a display of clothes that had been found on victims. One little sweater had the logo ‘I Heart Ottawa’. It is unbelievable to think that a sweater, most likely bought for some kid in Ontario, made its way to Africa as second hand clothing and ended up on a child who was massacred during the Rwandan genocide. By the time I reached the third exhibit I was quite overwhelmed by all the information along with graphic pictures and video. It was infuriating to read about how the rest of the world stood by and allowed these atrocities to take place. The French government even supplied the Interahamwe (Hutu youth army) with weapons. These men, women and children didn’t just die, they were brutally murdered. Men who used HIV as a weapon to infect their female victims were given drugs in jail while these poor women suffered alone in Rwanda. The last bit of the museum had large pictures of children who had died along with a description of who they were and how they were killed. At this point I ran past the photos to the patio outside, desperate for some fresh air and to get away from the horrifying details of what had happened. Once I met back up with everyone we walked through some gardens out to the giant mass graves and memorial listing the names of those who died. As difficult as it was to digest all this information it was definitely an eye-opening experience and one that I will never forget.

From the memorial we headed over to the main shopping mall to check out the African Wal-Mart called Nakumat. It was a much needed distraction after the heaviness of the morning. We stopped in at a coffee shop in the mall which was really nice. From there we headed to a local craft market to look for some souvenirs. Turns out everything is a lot more expensive in Rwanda than Uganda and most of the souvenirs were the same or similar to ones I had found in Kampala. By this point we started re-thinking our original plan to spend two days in the city. We had accomplished everything we had came to do and decided that we would break up our drive home by leaving Kigali the next day. After the craft market, we had one last stop to make. There are many many memorial sites in Rwanda, whether they are marked or not. The entire country was a war zone and I can’t even begin to imagine the atrocities that happened on the same streets we walked down. One place that hasn’t been touched is a church just outside the city. We drove out to Nyamata and came to a small church building decorated with flags. During the genocide thousands of people took refuge in this building, expecting to be protected. Instead, the pastor alerted the Hutu army that there were refugees in his church and every person was massacred. I started shaking as soon as I entered the building and a huge knot formed in my stomach. Laying out on rows and rows of benches were the clothes of those who had been killed. Piles and piles of clothes that were worn by terrified people who thought they had found refuge in a church. The guard led Carina and Alisha down into the basement but I couldn't follow. Later I was informed that there were bones and skulls piled up on display. At that point I felt I had enough gruesome images in my mind and did not need any more. We walked around to the front of the church where there were two large graves which you could walk down into. Although I didn't walk down you could see there were rows and rows of coffins as well as skulls and bones. I can’t even begin to describe to you the emotions that ran through me while visiting that church. It was a totally overwhelming feeling of deep sadness and disbelief. The drive back to Kigali was a silent one as we all reflected on what we had seen and heard. As beautiful a country as Rwanda is, there is a dark side and you can’t help but wonder what things looked like 17 years earlier. How many people died in that building? How much blood was shed on this road? How many bodies fell into that river? How do these people find the strength to carry on? The state of this city and country is a testament to the will of the Rwandese people. Coming to Kigali was a breath of fresh air from the crowded and dirty streets of Kamapala. This city is clean, has great roads, nice sidewalks, beautiful landscaping and friendly people. It has a very European flavour and is a model for other African countries. Sunday morning we headed out after breakfast, leaving Kigali behind. I have to finish off this section of my blog by restating the quote, ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times’ as it so accurately sums up my time in Rwanda.

on display at the Kigali Genocide Memorial

list of names from the mass graves at the Kigali Genocide Memorial

at the craft market

church at Nayamata

clothes of those who died, stairs to basement

graves out front

Hotel Rwanda

Getting through the border back to Uganda took a lot less time. We were through within an hour and then drove through the border town of Kabale (not Kibaale) to Lake Bunyoni, known as the place of many little birds. This was another vacation spot that Mark and Sue had visited earlier this year and all the Canadian, Danish and American families have made plans to go there for New Years so we thought we would check it out for a night. The view coming down into the valley was breathtaking. Lake Bunyoni is surrounded by terraced hillsides. It has 29 islands and we stayed at a camp on one called Bushara Island. Ken dropped us off at the boat launch which was a bit of an adventure as several men fought over whose boat we would take. In the end, we figured out that we had a free ride to the Island and should wait for the camp’s boat to return. Even so, this one very forward man came over and introduced himself as Sunshine (with a very cheesy smile). Not wanting to be rude, I answered his questions: What’s your name? How old are you? Where are you from? But when he leaned in two inches from my face and said in a very creepy voice “I LIKE Canadians’, I quickly walked away. Dad was standing a few feet from me and was too absorbed in bird watching to notice that his own daughter was about to get a marriage proposal. I was very relieved when the boat arrived and we were able to go over to the quiet and peaceful island, far, far away from 'Sunshine'. The camp was beautiful and we stayed in these little tents with beds and a tiny table. If you went through the tent there was an outhouse and outdoor shower attached to the back. It was quite a secluded little place and other than a few Swedes we had the entire island to ourselves. Unfortunately, Ken was in such a rush to go for a swim in the lake that we didn’t order our dinner meal until 5:30. Turns out you have to order way in advance otherwise it takes a few hours to get your food. We didn’t get our food until 7:30 at night and by that point we all had lost most of our appetites. Food got mixed reviews but I gave it a thumbs down because later that night it all came back up again. Not to say that it was the food that made me sick, there were many possible reasons (including some roadside samosas I had eaten earlier that day) but regardless, it was not a fun night. The next morning I just wanted to get off the island and back to Masaka. It was a long drive home but we made it in one piece.

one of the many 'little birds'

waiting for the boat

our tent

And that is the account of my weekend adventure. This week has been a tough one after being sick and then coming back from such an emotionally exhausting trip. I am finally starting to feel better again and hope that I’ll be okay for the rest of my time here. A lot has happened this week. Over the weekend my Dad celebrated his birthday so we had a special dinner in Rwanda. On Monday Maya turned 9 so we had a party for her on Monday and Tuesday night. This was also Alisha’s last week teaching so we had a special Teddy Bear Picnic on Thursday. Today was another birthday party for two boys from the Danish families. Tomorrow we head off for a week in Kibaale followed by a weekend trip to Queen Elizabeth Park for a safari. Just writing this all down makes me exhausted. Please pray for safety and health as we travel. Little Ella is just recovering from what we expect was Malaria. This coming Tuesday marks the 4-week countdown to coming home. As much as I am excited about the adventures that lie ahead, I am also very ready to return home again to all the familiar places and faces.