A skyline that is usually dominated by the distinctive volcanic outline of Nyiragongo, whose active crater often belches out smoke by day and glows ominously at night.
I saw that of all the African cultural practices, only music, dance and religion – immaterial arts – were preserved and reinvested with the power to bring people together.
With the wedding party gone, the expansive air on top of us felt radiant; like it was still singing songs of love. The pillows that the bride and groom knelt on stared back…
Here I am, seated next to a Burundian who is new on this route and only knows where he is getting off, a bus that is really moving, an undecided battle between the rain and sunshine outside, and a racing heart…
Her Kinyarwanda is musical; this I hear as she calls out for the 7-month old crocodile at the backyard pond, almost like a girl playing with a doll.
Its spire rises above almost all else. Perched atop one of its approaching hills, the spire is a landmark that one would hardly miss from most areas surrounding the main road into Muhanga.
The gallery is built along a hill slope, requiring one to descend a flight of very steep stairs. As if in an effort to distract from the descent, sculptures adorn the side of the stairway wall.
At the reception we meet a couple of beautiful young mushanana-adorning guides laughing at a joke that’s been in the air for quite a bit, their smiles slightly waning.
Then I see four men carrying a stretcher, the load on it covered by shukas similar to those I saw wrapped around the women on bikes. I think the load is a dead body.
The road south to Nyanza-Kicukiro is mostly straight but quite hilly and hot. No tree is visible on either side of the road. It’s also noon and already 28°C outside.