Rwanda: From genocide tales to holiday destination

The name Rwanda is synonymous with genocide, but that is now history as the country has come over it and is on its way to becoming the preferred holiday destination in Africa. I first heard of the transformation the country is going through from Mr William Sa’ad, a man who is not even African. It […]

The name Rwanda is synonymous with genocide, but that is now history as the country has come over it and is on its way to becoming the preferred holiday destination in Africa.

I first heard of the transformation the country is going through from Mr William Sa’ad, a man who is not even African. It was in his office in Lagos a few years back that he told me how beautiful and orderly the country was.

He painted such a nice picture of not only the capital city, Kigali, but that of the whole country. To further convince me, he played a video of the streets of Kigali on his phone.  

Luckily, I and my family were sponsored for a vacation in the country by a rich and generous friend.

Although the country is small, it is blessed with a leadership that thinks big. It is the kind of place you won’t get tired of visiting many times over. 

Our first trip to Rwanda was on July 21 last year. Looking below from the aircraft window as we approached the land truly gave meaning to the phrase, “City of 1,000 hills,’’ as Kigali is sometimes referred. What I saw can best be described as a thumbprint. 

We had arrived Kigali airport from Jo’burg around noon, and on entry into the terminal building, queued up behind a sign that read, “Visa on arrival.’’ 

I remember how the young and friendly immigration officer asked only two questions when it got to our turn – what we were in the country for and where we were going to stay. Not more. I told him we were in the country for tourism and we would stay at Hotel des Mille Collines.

We paid either $30 or $40 per person for the visa and were stamped in immediately.

Behind the immigration counter we saw a list of places of interest and things to do while in the country.

A gorilla naming ceremony was to come up at a date I can’t remember now. What a way to wet a tourist’s appetite, especially one that hasn’t seen a gorilla closely. 

The other thing that caught our attention in the baggage collection area was a sign that read, “No leather bags allowed.’’ Luckily, we did not carry any, so we were spared the embarrassment of opening up luggage in front of other passengers.

Outside the terminal building, we were received by two young men, Pleasure and Mustapha. Pleasure was from a tourism company and was just there to help us plan an itinerary, while Mustapha was to drive us around for the period of our stay.

The airport was orderly. And the noise that usually greets you when you step out of the terminal building as a result of the activities of hustlers as obtained in some climes was not there. There were no red-eyed un-uniformed touts that would usually ask if one needed a taxi, etc.  

Driving out, we immediately noticed that the streets were very clean, just like Mr William Sa’ad said. 

Hotel des Mille Collines, now run by Kempinski, was the best and the only four-star hotel in Kigali in 1994, so it was highly patronised by expatriates. It was said that the facilities in the hotel were so overstretched that refugees, at a time, ended up drinking all the water in the swimming pool.

What happened in the toilets is not something I want to talk about here. We decided to stay in the hotel, just to ponder on the despicable events that occurred there. That was despite the fact that we were offered an array of newer and better hotels to stay.

The movie, Hotel Rwanda, tells the complete story (though some disagree) of what actually happened at the hotel then. We called the driver about 4.30pm and went to catch a general feel of the city as is usual on our trips. 

Driving around, we couldn’t help but agree that the city may really have a thousand hills, as they say, because of its undulating terrain.

Muslim Quarters 

Our driver coincidentally took us to an area called the “Muslim Quarters,’ just about the time for the sunset prayer. I was to later find it in the list of places tourists were encouraged to visit in Kigali. I found it rather surprising because I never imagined there would be such a significant number of Muslims in Rwanda. 

Our driver said it’s not only Muslims that lived in the area. There are people of various religious beliefs and backgrounds residing side by side there too. “This area is not even policed because the people are peaceful, honest and easygoing by nature,’’ Mustapha said as we drove around.

I didn’t have to wait long before witnessing that in practice. We had stopped to pray in a mosque, and on conclusion of the prayer I couldn’t find my shoes outside. I was about giving up on it when I saw someone asking for the owner. I lifted up my hand like a primary school pupil and instantly felt ashamed for my earlier thoughts. 

There were drawers designated for keeping shoes at the entrance of the mosque, but I didn’t take notice of it.  

We ended the day by going for a dinner at a Turkish restaurant on the recommendation of Mr Fred, a Congolese of Belgian descent.

Genocide Memorial

Our first port of call the following day was the Genocide Memorial. On arrival, you would first be shown a documentary full of testimonies by people who witnessed and lost loved ones during the genocide, in a small room adjacent to the reception, before being ushered into the museum.

The documentary is not for the fainthearted though, and will certainly tear you up if you are one. That’s why children of certain ages are not allowed in.

I still can’t come to terms on why or what kind of hatred would make a grown man badger a small child with a hammer or an axe on the head.

You’ll learn in this museum, how the colonialists sowed such deep hatred and division between communities that had lived together in brotherhood and harmony for centuries, and who incredibly speak the same language -Kinyarwanda, something not common in most African countries.

Don’t say you haven’t been forewarned when you find yourself tearing up or regretting why you even went there in the first place. The good thing is that there has been forgiveness. One can hardly come across a Rwandan that would tell you he or she is a Tutsi or Hutu. They simply say they are Rwandese to those who care to ask.

 Lake Kivu

Lake Kivu is one of Africa’s great lakes, located right at the country’s border with the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), in the East African rift valley. The lake has a total surface area of 2,730 km2, and lies over 1,400 meters above sea level. It is said that the lake can explode at any moment because of the billions of cubic meters of methane/carbon dioxide gases accumulated deep beneath its waters. But trust the government of Rwanda; it took advantage of that and embarked on a project appropriately named ‘Kivuwatt’ to extract and convert the gas to electric power for its people.  This may probably also avert catastrophe. 

We took a boat ride on the lake, and my children convinced me that there was indeed something going on beneath the lake. 

We woke up early and went for breakfast in order to make the trip back to Kigali the same day.  At the balcony of the restaurant where we sat down, I realised that the hotel sat atop its own hill. The view was breathtaking. 

We left the hotel around 9am or thereabouts and began the climb to Gisenyi – a city on the northern side of Kivu Lake – right from the fringes of Kigali.

The road, at the edge of mountains, is the type that can give one goose pimples instantly, but road users will re-assure you of safety, to the point of even taking a nap along the edges of the cliffs.

We stopped for Friday prayers in a village which confirmed that the culture of cleanliness we saw in Kigali has permeated into all other cities and villages of the country.  

Half way into the trip, we arrived at a village called Nyirangarama. Nyirangarama is a must-stop for all tourists plying the road to Kivu, for two important reasons, all to do with food. First, it is in Nyirangarama that the famous Akabanga spice is produced. It is also here that you can get to taste the local cuisine at a small restaurant, or a famous suya they call brochette.     Akabanga is a locally produced liquid spice that comes in small eye drop- looking-like containers, which makes it imperative to keep away from the medicine cabinet. The spice is now world famous, and the only reason you may not have heard of it is because you don’t like pepper. 

We even saw a picture of former British Prime Minister Tony Blair with the person that started it all signing the visitors’ book. It does not only spice up dishes but adds aroma to them. We picked quite a handful.

In another hour and half we arrived at Gisenye, a place in the likes of Mambila. The atmosphere there was very serene and the air fresh that you could almost taste it. Our smallest daughter, Asmau, started complaining of stomach ache and we told Mustapha to stop by a pharmacy. It took quite a while before we could locate one. We were naturally surprised that it took such long. “People hardly get sick here because of the altitude, fresh air and fresh natural food,’’ Mustapha said. 

“I wouldn’t mind relocating here,’’ I said to myself.

 Thereafter, we drove straight to the border between Rwanda and the DRC. As soon as we found a place to park, an immigration officer came forward, introduced himself in a civil manner and asked if he could be of help. 

I asked if it would be possible to cross into the outskirts of Goma in the DRC and come back into Rwanda. Goma is the city that housed thousands of refugees during the Rwandan genocide.

He asked if we had the Congolese visa and I said no. Politely, he said, “Coming back wouldn’t be a problem since visa on arrival is allowed for Nigerians, but the Congolese wouldn’t allow you in.’’ He, however, went with us up to the Congolese side of the border and told his colleagues on the other side that we were there to take souvenir photos only, something akin to assuring them that we were not ‘sleepers.’

We trekked back with the officer and he graciously took us to see how their citizens went into the DRC through an e-gate in droves to trade on a daily basis. We passed through the main administrative office and saw the citizens of the analogue neighbour manually being processed into Rwanda as well.

We passed through his office to use the rest room, after which we thanked him and left, taking a different route through a cobbled street, lined with very nice holiday homes. The road also led to a bigger border where a giant billboard welcomed visitors into Rwanda with only four words that capture the very essence of what Rwanda is – “Corruption NO, Investment YES!”

A little further down the road we found ourselves by the banks of Lake Kivu, where we saw a totally different world. We got there almost at sunset, so my wife thought it was not a good time to get on the water, especially on a lake that could explode at any moment. I and the kids braved it on a small rickety boat. When we got off the boat we trekked to where the locals ingeniously created a passage for the hot water oozing out of the lake, into a larger trapped body of water. 

We ended up at the Serena Hotel for dinner by the lakeside, after which we began the long drive down to Kigali.

 King’s Palace Museum, Nyanza

On July 23, we took a different direction to the region of Butera/Huye, ending up in a city called Nyanza, the headquarters of the royalty who used to run the country. Upon payment of the entrance fees, a tall and amiable guide took us around.

There were two main buildings in this museum, a big traditional round hut, replica of what the king’s house used to look like, and a modern palace used by the latter king educated in Europe by the side of it.

The story of the Rwandan royalty is a long and interesting one. The main attractions to me were the cattle in this museum. They are also a royalty of sorts. 

We took a different route back to Kigali in order to make a quick stop at another museum with a rich display of their culture and artifacts in a city called Huye.

    

The Presidential Palace Musuem

The Presidential Palace Museum will give you a brief history of Rwandan presidents and politics. Recall that the Rwandan genocide was triggered by the shooting down of the then Hutu President Habriyamana. Remnants of the plane are still there for visitors to see at the exact location it came down, close to the palace.  

On arrival, we paid the fees and a somewhat lanky and heavily accented guide was assigned to show us around. Among other places, he led us to a pool meant for one snake, a python given to General Habriyamana by the late Congolese president, Mobutu Sese Seko.

We proceeded to see the remnants of the scattered plane, passed by the other pool meant for the president and his family before ending up at the main house. Entering from the back, there was a night club, complete with an underground bunker that used to serve as a freezer for storing drinks. 

A little further down is the study; the furniture used is still intact. I looked at the now antique rotary telephones by the side of the table.

Going inside the main living room we were taken aback by one of the longest dining tables I’ve ever seen. 

At the foot of the stairs, the guide said, “The president was always the last to climb upstairs at the end of the day because of his concern for security. This is because the steps are wired to enable the president know the exact stair on which an intruder is.’’ 

We went round all the bedrooms. Surprisingly, the master bedroom has a two-in-one toiled for the president and his wife. There is also a chapel, a shrine and a secret doorway, a quite complicated arrangement. 

The final spot was the big balcony from where president and family used to watch traditional dances on special days and occasions. After that we flew out of Kigali.