I did not enter the Arboretum of Ruhande to study plants or animals. I was visiting the University of Rwanda’s Huye Campus and simply wanted to take a walk and clear my mind.
This was not one of those ten-kilometer treks I sometimes enjoy. It was not even a 10,000-step challenge. My phone was not expected to congratulate me at the end. I just wanted an easy stroll through the forest.
But walking in a forest is never completely ordinary.
A few minutes after entering, the outside world began to disappear. The trees closed around me, the air felt cooler, and the sounds of the city faded. Before long, I was completely swallowed by the forest.
At some point, I realized I had lost my way. Strangely, I was not worried. I was lost, but somehow felt at home.
As Mary Davis beautifully put it, “A walk in nature walks the soul back home.” That line made perfect sense to me inside the forest. One step at a time, I felt the tranquility. My thoughts became quieter. Ruhande did not ask me about work, unfinished plans, unanswered messages, or money. The trees simply stood there, minding their business and encouraging me to do the same.
What amazed me was how close the forest was to normal life. Just a few meters away, people were attending lectures, driving, making phone calls, and going about their day. In a few minutes, I could have walked out of the protected area and found myself on the bustling Mucyarabu Street.
Yet inside the forest, Huye felt very far away.
I am not an expert in flora and fauna. I could not name most of the plants, and I certainly could not identify the birds by their calls. Still, even at a glance, I could see that the forest was full of variety.
The birds were impossible to ignore. Their chorus came from different corners and blended into a magical harmony. There is something about birdsong that is deeply restorative. It does not demand your attention, but somehow changes the entire mood of a place.
I also saw a good number of monkeys. They moved around with the confidence of residents who knew I was only visiting. Judging by their attitude, I was the one trespassing.
At some point, I found a bench and sat down. I listened to the birds, watched the movement in the trees, and took it all in.
Nature has a quiet way of calming the mind. There is no receptionist, no appointment, and no form asking what problem brought you in. You simply sit there, breathe, and slowly feel lighter.
Later, while riding toward Gisagara, I paused to admire the arboretum from outside. From the road, it looked like a vast wall of green, hiding all the paths, birds, monkeys, and quiet corners I had just experienced.
I had entered the forest to clear my mind. I left without becoming an expert in trees or birds, but with something more useful at that moment: peace.