Cyangugu, Rwanda – With towering mountains, red soil, tropical vegetation and the twisted shape of Lake Kivu, it’s not really any wonder this is an exceptionally beautiful region of Rwanda. Despite being perpetually overcast – or perhaps hazy is more fair a term – I can’t help but marvel at the vistas.
It’s temperate, though warm in the sun and particularly humid following rain. Still, I was completely comfortable in a long-sleeved shirt as I worked outside on my balcony this morning. The breeze had a relative chill to it – ‘relative’ as I hear it is currently -30 back home in Canada.
You could really hear the hustle and bustle of Saturday morning as children ran around playing and others completed such tasks as laundry and firewood gathering. Drums resonated over the hills in the distance and people could be heard singing from all angles. Children’s shouts and the ever-present chirps of birds completed the aural tableau.
I’ve been told this area has long felt cut off from the rest of the country and that, as a result, people are different here. The depth of the Nyungwe Forest – and its steep, curved roads – have made accessing this region difficult. Due to its proximity to the DRC, however, you see a significant proportion of the population heading off to work across the border, and a number of Congolese working here.
Though poverty would impede many Rwandans from flying, there is at least an airport here, where I ventured this morning to pick up my baggage this morning (finally!) I particularly enjoyed the ride because it took me through the rural area and I was able to witness some of the community’s daily goings-on. A young girl with a large bundle of sticks balanced on her head vanished into the tall grasses, while a trio of young boys disappeared into the hills. Another boy tended to his goat with a bamboo pole twice as long as he as two rusted bicycles with large bundles of bananas slung over the back rested against the clay nearby. Another man struggled to push his bike up the hill with two giant bags of onions on the back. There were people everywhere.
Though children still attend school on Saturday here, a small group had taken time to watch the planes taking-off at the airport, much like I had seen in Kisumu, Kenya last year. It was nice to see them looking after each other, pulling stray friends out of the way of oncoming vehicles, which have little regard for pedestrians in this country. One young girl in the group could not have been more than two-feet-tall and wore a tiny kanga wrapped around her waist. She was, in a word, adorable.
I took their photo and, despite the severity I’ve seen on many faces here, theirs lit up when I waved, making me feel welcome.
It’s temperate, though warm in the sun and particularly humid following rain. Still, I was completely comfortable in a long-sleeved shirt as I worked outside on my balcony this morning. The breeze had a relative chill to it – ‘relative’ as I hear it is currently -30 back home in Canada.
You could really hear the hustle and bustle of Saturday morning as children ran around playing and others completed such tasks as laundry and firewood gathering. Drums resonated over the hills in the distance and people could be heard singing from all angles. Children’s shouts and the ever-present chirps of birds completed the aural tableau.
I’ve been told this area has long felt cut off from the rest of the country and that, as a result, people are different here. The depth of the Nyungwe Forest – and its steep, curved roads – have made accessing this region difficult. Due to its proximity to the DRC, however, you see a significant proportion of the population heading off to work across the border, and a number of Congolese working here.Though poverty would impede many Rwandans from flying, there is at least an airport here, where I ventured this morning to pick up my baggage this morning (finally!) I particularly enjoyed the ride because it took me through the rural area and I was able to witness some of the community’s daily goings-on. A young girl with a large bundle of sticks balanced on her head vanished into the tall grasses, while a trio of young boys disappeared into the hills. Another boy tended to his goat with a bamboo pole twice as long as he as two rusted bicycles with large bundles of bananas slung over the back rested against the clay nearby. Another man struggled to push his bike up the hill with two giant bags of onions on the back. There were people everywhere.
Though children still attend school on Saturday here, a small group had taken time to watch the planes taking-off at the airport, much like I had seen in Kisumu, Kenya last year. It was nice to see them looking after each other, pulling stray friends out of the way of oncoming vehicles, which have little regard for pedestrians in this country. One young girl in the group could not have been more than two-feet-tall and wore a tiny kanga wrapped around her waist. She was, in a word, adorable.
I took their photo and, despite the severity I’ve seen on many faces here, theirs lit up when I waved, making me feel welcome.
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