Kigali - July 4
Toronto, London, Nairobi, Kigali – Two nights, three plane rides and a four-hour plane delay later I’m waiting in line to get my passport checked at Kigali International Airport. Although I was in a line-up before half of my fellow passengers had finished filling out their immigration cards, I chose the slowest of the three security lines and am about to be the last person to step up to the customs officer. The middle station has become free and I dart over. I hand over my passport and card. The officer inquires about my journalism internship – I’ve written Rwanda Initiative as the reason for my stay. Then, he raises the stamp and in one swift movement allows me access into the country I’ve wanted to visit since high school and will now be working in for two months. “Ms. O’Brien,” he says, “welcome to Rwanda.”
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I arrived in Kigali on Rwanda’s Liberation Day – July 4. I had always associated that date with the United States. But now, after arriving in Rwanda’s capital on their national holiday, when future Fourth of July’s cross the calendar this land-locked country in Africa will come to mind.
Fifteen years ago to the day the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) seized control of Rwanda’s capital. Two weeks later, the RPF announced the end of the war and an interim government was put in place. The current president, Paul Kagame, was the Major General of the RPF. He was appointed as the Defence Minister and Vice-President at the time and became president in 2000.
I’m not sure what I expected when I arrived in the “land of a thousand hills.” When the customs officer welcomed me into his country, I smiled my thanks. My jet-lagged legs carried me down stairs to pick up my two suitcases, which were both in my hands within minutes. I walked out of the baggage claim into a throng of Rwandans greeting loved ones, taking pictures, holding flowers. I searched the crowd for a sign with my name on it. Andrea, the on-site coordinator of the internship, or one of her assistants was going to pick me up. After I scanned the crowd for five minutes, I inquired at the airport coffee shop whether there was somewhere I could get internet access. “There’s wireless,” the woman behind the counter told me. “That I can use?” I asked, incredulously. “Yes,” she answered. “It’s free.” I didn’t expect that.
Ten minutes Iater when I was looking for a phone to use I saw a group of people who looked awfully familiar. I went over to where they were sitting. “Are you Wanda?” an intern here since May asked. “I am.”
Soon I was in a cab zooming around the main streets of Kigali. Everywhere I looked, a landscape of houses on hills met my gaze and I wondered which one I would be living in and how my un-expectations would come true.