Day 24: Landslide to Kigali.

Kigali, Rwanda – The rains erased the hills as greens became greys and sharp became blurred. Each icy drop, icier at its core, pummelled the rug of crestfallen cloud that hugged the earth.

The pavement ran red as small landslides cascaded down the hills, the curled roots of grass and small plants clutching like gnarled fingers to the muddy heap. A felled tree lay sprawled across the road.

A convoy of 12 open olive green Mercedes trucks stood roadside with flimsy camouflage tarps flapping in the cold wind. Most held up to 100 standing soldiers who shivered in uniform, staring out with hardened gazes. Two of the trucks carried supplies, piles of mattresses absorbing all the skies could offer.

New clay homes shed their outer skin and windshield wipers duelled, their swordplay leaving sliced remains splattered before us. Ruddy water wove its way down mud steps, down tile roofs, down irrigation ditches. Everywhere down, small stones somersaulted in the surf. People dared the stinging onslaught to collect the water in jugs.

And yet, as the sky lightened, the explosion of green made it seem as though all had grown by twice its size in the past hour.