A Thousand Days

A lot of the trees are sporting new leaves, mostly a dull brown with a dash of sprightly red. The mature leaves of seasons past are brilliantly green. The trees look like a rag tag guerilla army in new fatigues. The jackfruit – common to large parts of Africa - is perennially in season. The big green, goose bumped fruit has a sweet, slightly sickly smell. It is the food of boys as they romp off on daily adventures in the forests, or when they are waiting for supper. Its sugary syrup is only made bad by a gum like substance that sticks on to everything. The fruit is devoid of consistent form, sometimes finding funny shapes like Joey the Potato head. It is a boy’s best gift in this luscious paradise. Here in Uganda, adventure is waiting.

The rains are almost upon us. The clouds gather darkly and forbiddingly silent. The hills on the horizon seem to be competing with each other. One range enjoys the warm kisses of the glorious sunrise while the opposite hill mulls moodily in the shadow of dark clouds.

The smell of rotting molasses is so strong, it easily sticks to your body. The long rains are almost here, but the changing weather patterns have brought an unpredictable and erratic behavior to the climate. One minute, the sun blazes murderously, the next, dark clouds brook no nonsense as they slap heavy raindrops on the land.

The fallow land has been tilled as usual. There are the lazy ones and the worker ants. Dotting the landscape are the red Flaming Trees. They grow in a bulbous shape, at the end of the branches, brilliant red flowers blossom to create a fiery montage. Even Moses would mistake these trees as a thousand burning bushes. The brilliant hued flowers remind one of the poets’ ode, that ‘the pain of remaining in the bud is far greater than that of blossoming’.

The bananas dot the countryside like an epidemic. The succulent stalks hanging lazily under the weight of their green bounty are fed by the numerous swamps that give life to Lake Victoria. Someone somewhere fooled the elephants as to the directions of the banana plantations, and they ended up wallowing in the mud baths of the savannah.

It is now 5.30 in the evening. We wind and snake across the hills in Rwanda. This is the country that is known by its pet name, ‘land of a thousand hills’. It is also famous for its 1000 year old monarchy and infamous for the 100 days genocide. Yet all of these have become interwoven into a tapestry of African History. The lush green carpet on the river valley floor holds one of the world’s sweetest blends of tea. Rwanda, a tiny nation with the highest population density in the world is at the heart of Africa, a country which suffered a near mortal wound, but on the path to full recovery. As we approach the katuna border post, riding on the side o the hill, the land is still relatively flat. As we cross into Rwanda, the land suddenly buckles up, creating a snarl up of hill as they hug each other, leaving little room between them. This is Rwanda, Land of a thousand hills. It is a paradise tucked away in the heart of Africa.

Poverty is the bane of Africa, arguably the world wealthiest continent, but unmitigated, it is the most corrupt. A lack of national leadership as well as entrenched democratic principles has seen Africans opt for homegrown ‘democracy’, the kind that breeds tinpot despots, collectively known as the madmen of Africa. Idi Amin, Mengistu Mariam, Kwame Nkrumah, Mobutu Sseseko, Robert Mugabe, Dennis Sasso Ngueso and Rwanda’s own Juvenal Habyarimana.

Kigali’s immaculate boulevards are lined with fruit trees, the most common being avocado. Apparently, former strongman Juvenal Habyarimana had a thing for these nutritious fruits. It is the season of mourning. The 100 days of absolute evil that characterized the worst excesses of man are here. The parliament stands defiantly opposite the Ministry of Justice (Minijust). Its pock marked face a grim reminder of the hellish period. Gaping holes remain a part of its architecture, the bygones from tank mortar and RPG rounds, the smaller freckles from small automatic weapons. Here and there, there is a jagged edge, a gash on the beautiful, predominantly brown building. Opposite, on a fallow piece of land, an acacia tree comes to life. Hundreds of swirling moths make this their home among the thorns of the evergreen tree. It is also prime real estate in this temperamental weather, alternating between clammy hot and humid to cold and damp tropical rainstorm. It is a product of the El-Nino phenomenon. This year, the moths are far greater in number than anyone can remember. The swallows and weavers fly ecstatically above the parliament buildings in a feeding fest. They plunge, twirl and drop in the light breeze as they scour a unique buffet. They fly blindly onto oncoming cars and building in a mad search for peace.

The Kigali Serena is an imposing and immaculately kept building. The cream of Rwandan society is gathered here for the opening ceremony of the Rwanda Film Festival, or Hillywood as it has come to be known. Former US Ambassador to the UN Andrew Young is among the guests. These include the Minster for youth and culture. The event has been given immense political support as Rwanda gears up to become a leading film making destination. The theme of the festival is ‘sharing stories.’ The premier film ‘Rwanda Rising’ explores the nations from corner to corner searching for success stories in this land. The former US ambassador to the UN, Andrew Young is the producer. It’s his sophomore film.

“The difficult we do immediately, the impossible just takes a little more time” Mr. Young tells the assembled audience adding that “Africa is the hope of the world in the 21^st century”. The film features the voices of Phylicia Rashad, Jasmine Guy, Forest Whittaker and Quincy Jones. It is easy to tell that the former diplomat has been bitten by the African Bug. Denise Gordon winds up the night with soul performances from her new album.

A haze has settled on Kigali, sitting lazily on the City, creating milky hues. It is 9 am and it’s already hot and humid. The view from Gaculiro is heavenly. One of the most up market estates, it could easily be mistaken for an upscale American suburb. The venue of today’s showing is a newly constructed church within the estate. It is heavenly and divine in its craftsmanship and design. It is built of brick with bright earth colour finishing. A blue fountain at the bottom steps gives it a divine touch. A lone Mercedes Benz zooms past the immaculate black tarmac. Several  female and male house servants get on with their chores, conversing and catching up on the latest gossip. Two house girls chat excitedly as they ignore the exasperated cries of the infant on one of the girl’s back. A young lady leisurely walks past a group a group of working men. The constant monotonous din of hammer on stone subsides, then stops. Their collective gaze is drawn to the young lady wearing black stone wash jeans. They hug her supple bottoms as she wiggles them with calculated precision. Her small bosom and tiny waist seem to play tricks on the men’s

minds. With smooth skin and small dreamy eyes, she looks regal. The common belief is that Rwandese women are the prettiest in the world.

This evening we head to Remera Market to buy food in bulk. Just like any market, Remera is a cacophony of noises, hagglers and idlers. With a taxi park nearby, the constant movement is a headache. Remera has a breathtaking view of Kigali Airport. From our vantage point, the airport seems to be the only flat piece of land. But looking closely, it it half a hill, shaved, flattened and landscaped straight. This was the trigger for the genocide, with the felling of the jet carrying the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi. A white couple has come to shop for second-hand clothes, seemingly for a charity.

St Paul’s hall is adjacent to St Famille, the oldest church in Rwanda. It is also the most infamous of them all. Built in 1913, its doors have been modernized to iron and painted brown. Inside the brick cathedral, the texture is accentuated by the white stripes painted in between the bricks. It feels like a remote outpost in Mexico. The altar is huge and magnificent. A giant water color painting of Jesus Christ looking sombrely down on his worshiper’s and standing above the Kinya-rwanda words “Umuryango Mutagatifu” (Holy House). The benches are wooden and fixed on iron rails cemented to the ground. At the height of the genocide, several thousand Rwandans took refuge in the church, in the naïve belief that he holy house would keep them safe. The Rwandan priest in charge of the church handed in over to the militia and to this day, the massacre of helpless people still haunt it. As one priest asked after the genocide “we (the church) have been in Rwanda for a 100 years. What have we been doing?” 
Today’s agenda is specifically for women and their aspirations to have a voice in the male dominated industry. The highlight film is a 15 minute feature entitled “Nkundira Umwana” (Love my child) by the Abiyubaka Forum, a group of survivors of the genocide. It is their interpretation of events of that period and the brutal scars, as well as the offspring sired in the violence.

Maison des Jeunes de Kimisagara is on the edge of the city. The building is lined up on one side by small mud brick shacks that are built on the hillside. By night, once the wicker lamps of the hovels come on, u can easily mistake this for a skyscraper. At the top of the hill is the main prison. Here we watch such movies Kibera Kid, set in Kibera Slums of Nairobi, Africa’s Largest Slum. Poverty and Africa are synonymous no matter where you go, the squalor and mire is the same. Even the causes of it are the same – poor leadership, corruption and economic mismanagement. A series of animated films from all over Africa thrills this young audience. 
 My digital camera’s batteries are dead, so I decide to hitch a lift with some of the organizers of the festival into town. One particularly tall and lanky fellow called Jimmy is so ’long’ I am always tempted to ask him how the weather is up there. At the Nyabugogo bus park I hunt around for some Duracell’s. There are none but a multitude of imitation brands. In my desperation I decide to buy a pair. They go dead even before I take the first picture of the Agasake Bank building at the base of the hill. Because of their cheap prices, imitation brands have a ready market in Africa. Entrepreneurs and investors cannot possibly compete with these low cost products. I walk into a restaurant, order a soda and deep fried cassava. That is my lunch for today.

Legends restaurant hangs on a cliff overlooking the snaking roads down below. In the valley are some industrial premises. We sit to watch ‘Death of Two sons’, a documentary film made by Harvard University. Amadou Diallo, a strong black man went to New York City with the same dream as other immigrants –achieve his dreams. Amadou came from guinea in West Africa, a tiny, predominantly Muslim nation at the edge of the rainforest. He already had a first degree when he went to America. One night as he came home from work, he was shot 19 times as he tried to retrieve his wallet. He died on his front door, under a hail of 41 bullets. The Street Crimes Unit of the New York Police Department was responsible for the fatal death. Their motto, ‘we own the night’.

At about the same time Diallo moved to New York, a peace corp volunteer left for guinea. They never knew but the volunteer’s neighbour in Guinea happened to be a relative of Diallo. A few weeks after Diallo’s shooting, the volunteer and his friends decided to go hitch hiking into the interior. They boarded a public service vehicle, old ramshackles which are overloaded. They were involved in an accident with a tanker. The volunteer died on the spot. The driver of the car was charged and convicted of dangerous driving. He was sentenced to three years in jail.

In New York, the trial of the officers climaxed on February 4^th 1999. Each of the officers was acquitted of all charges relating to the fatal shooting and death of Diallo. The uproar brought the ire of African American activitist Rev Al Sharpton.

These were some of the films on show it Hillywood.