I spent my first two days in Nyamasheke doing exactly what the body ordered: resting—properly—at the heavenly Kumbya Retreat Center. By the third day, I was recharged and ready to spin my spokes across the remaining nine districts. When the tour resumed, Rusizi was calling. But before answering, I swerved off the highway and twisted the throttle toward a little place called Murwa. Until 1973, Murwa was an island—properly so. It sat apart from the mainland, separated by the shallow waters of Mujabagiro in Kagano Sector.“ “We used to walk to and from the other side through Mujabagiro,” Hakizimana Lawrence, a Murwa elder who has spent his whole life in the village, told me, “with the water reaching anywhere from the knees to the waist, depending on your height.” He smiled as he remembered his younger self. “I was strong back then. I’d carry people on my shoulders and help them cross without getting wet.” As hinted above, Murwa’s island days ended in 1973, when a dry path was built to link it to the mainland. The project—parting water with a confidence worthy of Moses’ rod—is the reason you can now drive straight into Murwa without rolling up your trousers. As I approached the narrow Mujabagiro entry point, I slowed down and let my imagination do a little time travel. I pictured villagers wading through water, balancing bundles, laughter, and the occasional piggyback ride. A part of me wished Murwa had remained an island—purely for the romance of it—but another part understood the wisdom of removing a stubborn logistical hurdle. Today, Murwa is a beautiful peninsula, wrapped in water and calm. As I wandered around, I couldn’t stop admiring its neighbors—the elegant curves of the Nyabitekeri Peninsula and the distant, floating presence of Idjwi Island. It’s the kind of place that makes you linger, even when the road insists there’s more waiting ahead.