The Beagle, a 2008 Toyota LC on a drift across Africa, piloted by Jim (FitzRoy) and Ann Colleen.
The Beagle, a 2008 Toyota LC on a drift across Africa, piloted by Jim (FitzRoy) and Ann Colleen.
There is time to contemplate how far we’ve come, from Cape Town to Kenya, to the beaches of Mozambique. Jim asked me where I thought we’d be without the Garmin and Traks4Africa – I said “Back home and divorced by now.” We are happily long past the point when every other minute brought on another decision. Tension ran high; that’s what comes of the being way outside your comfort zone. What would we change, now that we have time to think about it? Nothing, really. We couldn’t have taken this overland trip any sooner in our lives and the best time to go is when you go. The route has been successful – we calculated we’ve been on beaches of some sort since November, can’t 
complain about that. Neither of us has been sick. We’ve been through four different coffee presses, five decks of cards and one iPhone as well as countless cans of Peaceful Sleep insect repellent. We will not miss 
the mosquitoes.
There are places to return to and some gaps to fill, next time. Driving Namibia for months gave us a full view of that endless country. Botswana needs another look, hopefully before this trip is over. We’ve already been to Zimbabwe twice and will go back again later this month, so much to see there. Zambia is a favorite, where I am positive we waved to every single person in that friendly country. Tanzania nearly broke the 
bank but with its iconic parks it could not be missed. Zanzibar showed us our first taste of the slavers coast plus powered-sugar white sand beaches. The side trip to Ethiopia, that exotic place, was perfect. Camel 
caravans hauling salt into the sunset – what a scene.
Rwanda – a sobering lesson in humanity. One day we came to a nondescript village and it was time to get out of the truck. A large Genocide Memorial stood out, as in every single town and village. Only this one wasn’t quite finished yet. The very young security guard called an older gentleman to show us around this newly built but empty building. And the blank walls spoke as loudly as any placards. The hollow hallways echoed the footsteps of everyone who would never walk t
here. Finally we found ourselves in a basement containing 38 coffins, displayed neatly as if in a show room. Some had framed photos propped upon them, others had snapshots scotched-taped to them. To our undying surprise, the guide opened a coffin and handed us a small human skull. All these coffins have skulls, he said. At this location a church was bulldozed with thousands of people in it. His children are here, in one of the coffins. He shared his photos of them with us. We thanked him, signed the guest book and drove away. Rwanda; a country where everything is new because there was nothing left.
The primates in Uganda revel in the simplicity of life. We camped, all alone, in the Kibale forest and had a troop of 50+ baboons invade the clearing; they played, groomed each other and goofed off all morning, just having a good time being together. On the eastern side of the country we came to one of our better decisions – we really wanted to drive a certain road to enter Kenya. On the map it looked totally doable. But it was raining. Hard. And pondering the options,
we bypassed that road only to later meet a couple who had taken it; a heart-stopping track, they said “like driving on butter.” We spent a few minutes patting ourselves on the back for not going there. Of course that was prior to being desperately stuck in the mud twice in one week.
Kenya, that most organized of countries, gave us so many new friends. Eldoret town, Lake Turkana, the National Museum, JJs in Nairobi, Samburu Park, the fabulous Twiga and Barefoot beaches, Malindi town – I would go back to Kenya tomorrow. It took days for me to get 
over leaving Twiga; I kept asking myself why we left. But leaving there led us to Malawi and to time spent with our friends Jen and Jared. And on we go; more of Mozambique to see, more Zimbabwe, South Africa and camping with Adrian and Rentia, Swaziland, Lethoso, Botswana . . . where will it end?
Nyungwe Forest, near the southwest corner of Rwanda, is one of the oldest forests in Africa, if not the oldest. For hundreds of thousands of years, minute by minute, day after day, the process of photosynthesis from the Nyungwe has spewed oxygen into the earth’s atmosphere – we should all be thankful. 
Remarkably, Nyungwe is generally intact, still in pristine condition. There are threats of course, illegal logging, poaching, and the like, as explained by the brilliant modern interpretive center at the main campground. Still this forest has survived any number of climate changes and if Homo Sapiens can be kept at bay, there’s a good chance for continued success. We need the oxygen. At any rate, we came to experience the deep green scenery and the primates. Heavy black cloud unleash great buckets of rain on us as we arrange camping. There are beautifully built teak shelters and we can back the Beagle right up to the shelter for cooking and relaxing. The view is stunning, the horizon full of forest stretching on and on, green and thick and unlike anything we have seen so far in Africa. Rwanda is full of surprises.
To walk anywhere in Nyungwe you must have a guide. Trails are variously strenuous, all are steep and slick with rain. I know I’d have to watch my step on a guided hike – to look up or around is to ensure a fall. We elect to hang around and see what happens instead of hiking. Monkeys visit us every morning, calmly walking around the truck checking for edibles and the bright yellow bananas on the dashboard attract attention. Other than that, we must seem pretty boring to them. They are anything but boring to me. Their colorful fur and big eyes, their little fingers and long toes; I find them endlessly entertaining. L’Hoest monkeys, blue monkeys, black and white colobus, all are found here. Not one of them bares their teeth at me and tries to steal lunch as happened in Botswana – I heaved the box
of flatware at that one, I was hungry and not about to share. We don’t share anything with these fine primates either but they don’t care. There is plenty of food in the forest for them. Humans would starve in these woods – the trees keep all the nutrients for themselves and there is little forage for human taste. Could be that is why this place is still so fresh and vital. Chimpanzees live here too and a guide can take you to look for them. No guarantees though, you may or may not see these wonderful creatures. Chimps in the wild are shocking – if you’ve only seen them on TV, you’ll be aghast at how powerful they are as they move about their own environment. We spot two of them on the road as we leave the park; they quietly move off into the trees and I’m glad for that, I would not want a chimp to be hit by a truck.
Nyungwe is the last park we visit in Rwanda. As we leave, I think that Rwanda fits perfectly the pattern I’ve noticed in African countries. That is: nothing is what it seems. Rwanda is practically litter-free, has marvelous roads, beautiful parks, solemn memorials (all over the country), good hospitality service – all the things a tourist would compliment. On the other hand, it is run by a heavy-handed dictator, Paul Kagama, who has been in power for 23 years. Many praise his positive achievements but of course there is a dark side. Opposition leaders tend to disappear. Militias in Congo are armed with Rwandan weaponry and they facilitate the theft of Congo’s resources by Rwanda, who then sell it to the west. To be fair, Uganda (run by another brutal dictator) and other countries are also robbing Congo – there is plenty to go around there for now. Where will it
all end? Will Rwandans really recover from the genocide? Have free elections? We cannot know. It is time to enter Uganda and the Katuna border crossing is ahead of us. We’ll see what happens there.
Rwanda is a lovely country from what we have seen and the people smile and wave at us along the road. It is green and hilly, quite different from other places we’ve been. We know something about the country’s recent history, as anyone our age must – it is the site of the horrible Tutsi genocide in the early nineties. I’ve read about it, the Community Library has an excellent selection of books on the subject. But now that we are here we are perplexed. How could something so abominable happen here? The Museum and Memorial is within walking distance from our hotel, we can see it from balcony. We walk there hoping for something, anything, to gain some understanding.
In the relatively short time since the horror, this Memorial and many other smaller ones have been erected around the city and country. At the post office near our hotel I stopped and read all the names on a large plaque, the names so African: Innocent, Gift, Honor, Reginald, Finite. I am a little shook up when I get back to the truck. Rwanda wasted no time in trying to heal and with the help of many, the impression is that the country is doing what no other has done, learning quickly to live with its past. That does not mean it has swept the nightmare under the rug. Far from it. At the Museum documentation, photos, artifacts, and the actual bones themselves are on display so that all can know – this really happened. This is how it happened. It has happened before. It could happen again. Other genocides are presented, their commonality to Rwanda explained. While the genocidal process becomes clear, we cannot learn “why?” That short, three-letter word, can only end with a question mark.
The Museum exhibits explain how Rwanda as created, using many of the facets of local life and beliefs, a court of public confession and forgiveness and reconciliation. Some measure of relief for at least some of the victims has been accomplished. There are so many victims. Coming from the west, from America, we struggle to comprehend it all. The Children’s Room moved us to tears. The text explaining that older Rwandans were especially reviled by the murderers broke my heart. We took no photos here. We walked back to our room on sidewalks full of Rwandans going about their day. We took shelter under a filling station roof with dozens of pedestrians and motorcycle drivers when the rain came pouring down. Little kids said hi and everyone laughed about the weather. The Kigali Genocide Museum and Memorial is open every day. Take a walk to it when you are in Kigali, in the world of now. Remember what you see.
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