Kickin’ It in Kigali

December 12^th-14^th, 2023

Around 9 am, Yves, a young man working at the resort I was staying at by Nyungwe forest, escorted me down to the road to make sure I got the correct bus to Kigali.  Yves was a super nice guy who hoped to go to university for tourism in the near future.  I wish him the best and he deserves it.  Immaculee, a woman who also worked there, turned up and she was getting on the same bus to go to a small city named Butare.  Her name means “immaculate” in French.  At the place where I had dinner the past two evenings, the main guy there was named Dieudonnee…French for “given by God”.  There seems to be some serious religious beliefs in this area.  Actually, that seems to be the case in most of East Africa.

Me and Yves:

Imaculee behind me, getting on the bus:

I lucked out, or at least I thought I had, as I was given a seat at the front of the bus.  It was a fold out seat, which wasn’t as comfortable as a regular seat, but the unlucky bit was more about the guy beside me.  He was a big fella and was big time “manspreading”, so I didn’t have a lot of room for my legs.   During the 4½ hour ride, he was scolded a few times in Kinyarwanda by the bus driver, once for throwing his corn cob out of the window, and the second time for blowing his nose into his hand and then seemingly wiping it on the underneath of his seat.  I think he claimed that he was wiping it on his pants…but it was gross nonetheless.

 

When we arrived in Butare, I bid Immaculee good-bye and went for a “short call” (a pee), as you never know when your next opportunity may be on these bus rides.  Back in the bus, a kafuffle broke out to the left of the vehicle with one man being grabbed by the shirt collar and headbutted by a man who was wearing a vest for some bus company.  Then a crowd gathered, and the melee disappeared from view around a concrete wall.  Eventually all parties appeared and although a few guys were still heated, it didn’t look like the perpetrator or anyone else was seriously or visibly hurt.

The bus ride couldn’t end soon enough.  My butt was getting super sore and I was happy when we approached Kigali.  Even better yet, the bus terminal was just into the seemingly chaotic city.  The bus park was a zoo too, but it wasn’t difficult to get a boda boda to head to my accommodation.  We did have a bit of trouble finding the place, which I had read about on reviews on Booking.com.  We decided to call the owner and as the motorcycle driver was talking to him, he appeared out of a building about 50 meters away.  Perfect.

The chaos of Kigali:

Boda boda anyone?

We had to pull over for a while and traffic was stopped at a number of intersections by policemen.  Supposedly the president was going to pass by, but he never did.  Then it was a few minutes of crazy traffic:

The owner Ahmed is originally from Sudan, but he fled due to political turmoil and some conflicts there.  He used to be an IT guy but having to drop everything to flee, he left many possessions behind, including one of his two cars, and settled on Rwanda.  He explained that it seemed like a safe, clean and good place to start a new business.  He had only been operating this guesthouse, called Rwandeka, for four months.  I was flabbergasted.  I had the impression that he had been doing this for years.  I was amazed that he was able to understand the motorcycle taxi driver on the phone!  Ahmed was a very kind and sincere guy and I’m glad that I chose to stay at his place.

 

The next day, my only full day in Kigali, the first item on my itinerary was to go to the Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre.  It started off with a ten-minute film that interviewed some survivors.  Their tales were harrowing, tragic and sad.  Afterwards, I had paid for an audio tour that had listening points outside of the main museum building as well as inside.  It was a hot sunny day, so I began with visiting a few of the outdoor points of interest.  There were some mass graves housing thousands and thousands of bodies.  Names were listed on some black stone tablets, victims who were buried here.  It looks like they have a lot more research to do as only a fraction of the murdered were named on the wall.

Passing by the Kigali Golf Course on my way to the memorial centre:

The entrance:

The main museum building:

The mass graves:

The known victims buried here:

Another mass grave:

The museum inside was very informative although there was a lot of the same information that I had read in Murambi.  The main section about the genocide was downstairs, in the basement…perhaps a fitting location as this country definitely devolved into a dark, deep place during the genocide.  There were a few beautiful, but somber stained glass windows depicting staircases with skulls at the bottom of them.  They could be interpreted a few ways…were they showing the way out to escape the genocide?  Or the descent into this ultimate evil?

One of the stained glass windows (I pulled this off of the Internet as we weren't allowed to take photos inside the museum):

I spent a few hours in this section before heading upstairs where there were a few smaller parts, one of them detailing some other genocides that have occurred in the past.  I have to admit that I was pretty “museum-ed” out at this point, so I quickly perused the exhibits and made my way to the exit.

One of the memorial gardens:

Yesterday, I had asked Ahmed about other things to do in Kigali, and he didn’t have much of an answer.  He suggested I go out of town to the north to the twin lakes, 3 hours away near the Volcano National Park…dude, I just came from that are about 5 days ago, I’m not going back.

 

Riding on a motorcycle taxi towards my next destination:

Some of the downtown buildings:

The only other thing that piqued my interest, was to see where the 10 Belgian Peacekeeping soldiers were killed at the outset of the genocide.  They, along with 5 Ghanaian soldiers, were protecting the prime minister after the president had been killed when his plane was shot down as it approached Kigali airport.  The prime minister, Madame Agathe Uwilingiyimana, wanted to broadcast an appeal for peace over the radio in the early hours of April 7th but the radio station had already been taken over by the presidential guard who were pro-Hutu.  The Ghanaians were set free, but the Belgian soldiers were pinned down in a building at the military base in Kigali.  After a few hours, the Belgians were overwhelmed and between gunshots and a grenade that exploded in the room they were in, they were all dead.

The original gate at the barracks:

The bullet hole ridden military classroom:

The commander of the UNAMIR force (United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda), Canadian Romeo Dallaire, happened to pass by during the melee but he didn’t realize the severity of the situation…something he regretted in retrospect.  One of the main reasons that the Belgian soldiers were targeted was that the Hutus figured that it would cause the Belgian government to withdraw their force from Rwanda, which was the biggest contingent of the UN peacekeeping forces.

The rooms on the left side of the building contained some information about the events leading up to the start of the genocide along with the role of the peacekeeping forces.  On the other side of the building, where the Belgians had perished, the room was stark and eerie.  There was a chalkboard on one side of the room, as this had been a military classroom.  The outside and some of the inside walls were punctured with bullet hole.  I saw one bullet hole that pierced right through the 4-inch, concrete wall.  Must have been a big gun.

In the end, a grenade that exploded in the corner of the room killed off the last of the Belgian soldiers.  It was poignant to see the indentations in the wall of the detonation…thinking of how that last moment went down.  Crazy stuff.

The corner where the grenade exploded:

It says something like "Marshal Dallaire, do you have ears, eyes, heart?"

A memorial to the 10 soldiers, one pillar for each victim.  The horizontal lines denote their age and their names are at the bottom.

Afterwards I contemplated finding a place for a late lunch but looking at the ominous sky, I decided that it was wise to head back to Rwandeka, where I was staying.  There was the Caiman Restaurant & Bar just a hundred meters away from my accommodation so I could always go over there for a bite to eat.  Turns out it was the right call.  I arrived back at Rwandeka and had a short nap, during which the rain began.

Passing by the golf course again:

I walked over to the nearby Caiman restaurant for a few beers and some dinner and caught up on some blogging.  It was a good way to finish my last night in Rwanda.

The Caiman Restaurant and Bar:

This was the air freshener in my room...no, I wasn't tempted to turn it on to find out what the scent was like!

The next morning, I hopped on a boda boda to the airport.  It was a lovely early morning ride and I have to admit, that although I don’t like big cities, I was pretty impressed with Kigali.  This country has certainly turned things around in the last thirty years.

 

Renovations are going on to Amahoro Stadium, the largest stadium in Rwanda:

Riding down a nice boulevard to the airport:

From the outside, the airport seemed fairly modern.  My motorcycle taxi dropped me off across the street from the terminal.  There was a security check, including a sniffer dog, before getting onto the property, and then the normal airport security after checking in my bag.  What surprised me more was that there were no food services or even a store to buy food at in the passenger waiting area.  I had to ask an airport staffer where I could buy water and there was one small fridge at a souvenir stall, and that was it.  I shall remember this for my layover at the end of my African trip on the way back to England, because I was hungry waiting for the plane.

 

Next stop…Kenya!