If You Go Down To The Jungle Today

On a trip to Africa’s self-proclaimed safest country, John Goodall finds a Rwanda free from the grip of its turbulent past and comes face-to-face with two of its most astonishing and heavily protected residents

- John Goodall

THE roads in Rwanda offer a fascinating glimpse of this astonishingly beautiful country, presenting ever-changing views over its hills, mountains, lakes, forests, banana groves and fields. There are few motor vehicles outside the principal cities and, even more surprisingly, no beasts of burden. Instead, the roads run thickly with people. Most of them are on foot with their loads on their heads— everything from Bibles to scaffolding poles —but the main vehicle of choice is the bicycle. In this hilly landscape, their owners (all men) are always either pushing them determinedly uphill or careering down at breakneck speed.

The historical horizon of modern Rwanda is the genocide of 1994, when about 800,000 people were killed in a premeditated burst of violence against the Tutsi minority. Memorials scattered across the landscape mark the places of massacres. All are painted grey, a colour of mourning. That trauma, however, has made possible a conscious renewal of the whole country with ambitious new public buildings. Rwanda now claims to be the safest country in Africa—which would accord with my experience.

The Nyungwe forest lies to the far west of Rwanda (close to 20% of the country is forested and, combined, those forests contain 39 million metric tons of carbon), about seven hours’ drive from the capital Kigali. Where the road passes through the forest itself, it’s lined every few hundred yards with soldiers standing day and night on duty against any poachers.