Saturday we left the girls at home and headed to Rwanda for two nights, to see the country and visit some genocide memorials. The first thing we noticed was the road to the border, which we used to think was awesome was nothing in comparison to the road on the other side of the border. This is the first thing that one notices when entering Rwanda from Uganda, that the infrastructure is so much better. Where there are meant to be straight lines there actually are straight lines, they even have road barriers and stone work on the side of the road where cliff faces are, to prevent rock falling onto the road. The road from the border to the capital, Kigali, has some potholes, but it turned out to be the worst national road that we drove on, it is almost as a warning for when you are driving to Uganda again, for what to expect when you get there.
Although some things are better in Rwanda, making it look like they are more advanced that Uganda, it quickly becomes apparent that in many ways Uganda is actually more advanced then Rwanda. Uganda is dirtier and rougher, but in Uganda there is actually a middle class. In Rwanda, however, there is the well to do and then there is the poor. This leads to differences like, in Rwanda not many people have mobiles, where as in Uganda, even those without jobs manage to have phones somehow. In Kabale, which at times seems to be the end of the line in Uganda we can get money out of an ATM with cards from Australia, but in Rwanda you cannot. The only way of getting money is if you bought US or Euros with you or you can go to one bank in the capital and use your card over the counter, they do charge a high percentage commission though.
Here is a photo of a Kigali suburb:
We had arranged for Pastor Frank to come on Sunday to tour around with us, but on Saturday we were on our own to try and find a guest house that Frank had told us about. We made it to Kigali without any problems, and the scenery on the way was so so nice; terraced, green mountains that never seem to end. Now that we were in Kigali we had the task of trying to find the guest house. What takes 10 or 15 minutes took us around 2 hours. This was not only because we did not have a map, or that there were not road signs, or that we did not have a clue where we were and where we were meant to go, but mainly that we could not find anyone who could actually speak English, to ask for directions to get us on the right track. We managed somehow to get ourselves close to where we had to go and picked up a guide to show us where to go, but he could not speak English and had to keep stopping to ask for directions himself. We ended up ringing the guest house and they sent someone to pick us up.
We were so glad to arrive, not only because we were sick of driving, but the people running the house were so nice and extremely helpful. The guest house is actually set up as a place where missionaries can go for a break or whatever. It was cheap, which we liked, but also it was the nicest guest house I have visited in Africa. In the afternoon we headed back into town to visit the National Genocide Memorial. I was very surprised at how well set up it was, and even though I knew most of what was displayed and taught through the memorial, it was a very moving experience; not only for us, but also for locals. The events of 1994 are still fresh in many people’s memories, as evidenced by emotions showed while we were there.
I have decided not to talk too much at this time about the genocide as it is very emotional and much that I would say many may not want to read. I may write a post a little bit later on as I did take many notes and could write a bit. But I will leave all the details of the genocide memorials out for now.
On Sunday we made our way back to the town centre and waited for Frank to meet us, it was great having him come. Although he cannot speak much French, he can speak the local language and did a lot of interpreting at two remote memorials we went to today. If he was not there then we would not have been able to know what guides were saying, and that was the most important part. We would have possibly gotten lost a few times without him.
Here is a happy shot of Quinton at Hotel Des Mille Collines, aka Hotel Rwanda:
Then on Monday we headed to a local lake as a sight seeing venture. While we were there we also visited the church that was the birth place of the 1929 East African Revival. Then we drove home again, returning to the potholes and dust of Kabale.
Here is Frank at the Lake:










