When I rolled into Nyanza, I headed straight to the market. Shopping wasn't part of the plan—I simply wanted to feel the pulse of the community. Of course, I ended up buying something: a variety of fruits. There’s always space in my bike’s panniers for them. I have to eat anyway, and walking away from places like this empty-handed never quite sits right with me. As a tourist, supporting local businesses feels less like an obligation and more like common sense.
From the market, I made a brief stop at Christ the King Catholic Parish. Built in 1935, this parish stands as one of Nyanza’s most enduring spiritual and historical landmarks, quietly bearing witness to decades of faith, reflection, and national memory. A towering statue of Christ the King stands guard over the grounds, marking the very spot where King Mutara III Rudahigwa offered a humble prayer in 1946, dedicating Rwanda to Christ the King.
Standing there, I couldn’t help but reflect. I honor King Rudahigwa as a national hero, and as a Christian myself, I understand and respect his decision to embrace faith. At the same time, history reminds us that the introduction of Christianity in Rwanda was not without its shadows. The same missionaries who brought the message of salvation also served as agents of colonialism. I left the parish with mixed feelings—but that is a story for another day.
From the parish, I made my way to Nyamagana Dam, where history and landscape quietly meet. Built in the 1940s by King Rudahigwa as a fish-farming project, the dam was part of his effort to feed his people during the devastating famine of 1943–44.
It wasn’t my first time there. On my previous trip, a simple bench offered me a place to sit, sip some water, and pretend—if only briefly—that this was a lakeside escape. This time, as I stepped onto the bank, I realized the bench was gone. Moments later, I spotted its remains, slowly rotting at the edge of the dam.
Leaving Nyamagana Dam behind, I drifted through the town center and made my way to the district headquarters. After a brief meeting with the district’s PR Manager, the afternoon unfolded into a trail of heritage stops—two museums and a royal mausoleum—each adding another layer to Nyanza’s story. I wrapped it up at the district’s newly established visitor center, where the bigger picture finally came together. In hindsight, that probably should have been my first stop.
Before I called it a day, I dropped by the African Art Museum. What I encountered inside went far beyond what I had anticipated, leaving me with more questions than answers—in the best way possible. The collection invites you to look at Africa, its stories, and its expressions from a different angle, without forcing conclusions. It’s an intriguing space, and one that has earned a dedicated page in my upcoming book highlighting my experiences in Nyanza.
I’m writing this from Quality Inn Hotel, where I’m spending the night. The journey, however, is far from over. Tomorrow promises hiking, hands-on traditional activities, and a deeper dive into history—revisiting the past and discovering my roots.
A booklet documenting this tour is already taking shape, its pages slowly coming alive. It will be added to the shelves of Afrika Nzuri’s library next Tuesday, joining a growing collection of books used in the Turning Pages program. The first book club session featuring the new publication is scheduled two days later.