It was only 6:00 in the evening, and all we could afford to do in personal hygiene was to wash our finger tips so we could deep our hands in hot food served to us on flat baskets (inkoko) . Are we going to make it through the night? We were wondering! The cold water was unbearable, and so was the weather. Our hands were numb for a few minutes after only three seconds of having the water poured on them. The relief was the burning pumpkins, corn, beans and Irish potatoes, among other delicious food we were served. It felt so good to at least have warm hands, despite the whole body being covered in mist. In this group of 41 young people, only one took a bath! Everyone else was saying “nzoga ejo” (I will bathe tomorrow) when we were asked if they could warm some water for us. The audacity to even think of water at that moment! Apparently, taking daily baths is not a thing in this cold place, so there was no shame in not cleaning even after six hours of hiking. Cows in the beautiful Bigogwe grazing area in Nyabihu District. We had started by climbing the famous Ibere rya Bigogwe (Bigogwe’s breast) Mountain in Nyabihu district, which most believe is shaped like a woman’s breast. There is also a lone tree at the peak of this rocky mountain, which is referred to as its nipple. While the hike started in a very steep manner, there could never be a better time to wish one was a bird than when we reached the peak! We could see as far as in the neighbouring DR Congo, and the all-green gentle valleys surrounding the mountain were just breath-taking. I have hiked steeper mountains, but this one was tougher that all of them. I don’t know if it was the coffee I had taken that morning, or the thought that we were supposed to be warned about the long hike. We passed through the forest heading to Gishwati farms where we would spend the night, and I am sure part of what made the walking bearable was the laughter. For instance, around three hours after we had started, one young looking man said: “these mountains are like love; only ups and downs and you don’t know where it will end.” Another one told a lady who had slipped on the muddy grass that “igwire ma, nubundi nta mahembe wavunaga” (you may fall down, dear; you were not breaking any horns anyway). Or this other famous comedian who was asking how many ‘breasts’ we were supposed to hike since he had counted four so far. A trip to Bigogwe We were warned to not touch a number of wild plants and flowers, including the ‘burn nettle,’ traditionally called ‘Igisura’, known to cause a rash and other symptoms if people touch them. But this was only until we exited the forest to where these plants are less seen. When we started moving from farm to farm, climbing over fences put in place to limit cows’ movement, people would randomly offer us milk. They would milk their cows in traditional jugs (ibyansi) we were walking with to the fullest, and they would be surprised and claimed we were slow drinkers. The famous Ibere rya Bigogwe (Bigogwe’s breast) Mountain in Nyabihu district, which most believe is shaped like a woman’s breast. Part of why the going was tough was also because we had filled our stomachs with the warm raw milk which we couldn’t get enough of. It was tastier, creamier, and in plenty. While we also couldn’t get enough of the beautiful umucaca grass and the clean and healthy-looking cows, we had to take a rest at one of the farms. There were beautiful wooden chairs waiting for us, ibyansi full of milk and food. We also sang and danced to Rwandan traditional songs; Umudamazera, Agasaza and Uraho Runyenyeri, among others. The song “Lidiya” of Bagogwe was also the most danced to, among other cultural activities that happen in ‘Igitaramo.’ It was already getting unbearably cold despite the campfire, but part of what was helping us was the piece of Maasai shuka we were given before the hike started. Hot milk for some and alcohol for others also saved us before we finished everything. It was clocking to mid-night, time to sleep, and our camping tents had already been set, together with sleeping bags. Some were already making fun of the fact that we were then exposed to the infamous cow-predator animal that has killed more than 50 of them in the Gishwati farms where we were spending the night. But that was less worrying than the dew on the grass which was penetrating through the tent. It made our clothes wet, despite us being inside the sleeping bags, which were wet too. Most people decided to not sleep at all, because the only bearable place to be at that time was around the campfire which was ignited right after the hike. Alexis Ngabo Karegeya who has gained it momentum through twitter and has been organizing such trips, captured here assisting a lady while climbing Those who kept in the tent- the brave ones, also spent not less than three hours searching for sleep, but without success. I was among those, but only because I had to choose between the smoke from the fire and the sleep, which was uncertain. I had to wear another sweater and sweatpants, but it wasn’t enough. I managed to sleep for around three hours, but I still woke up with numb feet and hands, and it was raining. I didn’t want to dwell so much on why I willingly went to camp, but I was willing to wait for the sun to enjoy more of this beautiful place. There was more milk to drink, cows to milk, cheese, and games to play. Those who had stayed up all night were not only enjoying the warmth of the campfire. They were also roasting maize, which filled half of the 50kg sack when we went to sleep. Even the sack wasn’t there at 7:00 in the morning. A group of visitors moving from farm to farm, climbing over fences put in place to limit cows’ movement, people would randomly offer us milk. While we had carried other clothes, roll-on, tooth-brush and other toiletries, we didn’t get the chance to use them! No one even washed their face. Even the thought of taking off a T-shirt for another was scary. The campfire was on until 11:00 am when we left. We had tested Bigogwe cheese, played games like long jumping (gusimbuka urukiramende), learnt how to milk cows, and met beautiful people all through. Every one of us ended up on a bus with dirty, smoky clothes. Some had fallen in cow dung, others had maize in their teeth, but what we had in common was a happy face and a dream to take a shower when we reached our destinations. While Bigogwe has always been beautiful and with a welcoming culture, it wasn’t until recently that it would be a touristic place. It is one of the places where the 1994 Genocide against Tutsi was experimented in the early nineties, and most of its Tutsi residents were killed during the Genocide. At the base of Ibere rya Bigogwe lays more than 25 thousand Bagogwe Tutsis who were killed during the genocide and in the genocide pilot that had been going on since 1990. Despite the killers’ efforts to wipe out the Bagogwe and their cows, their grazing land became even bigger and even more beautiful. Their land stands tall to become one of the country’s cultural touristic destinations, thanks to a 27-year-old Alexis Ngabo Karegeya who has gained it momentum through twitter and has been organizing such trips.
