I’ve explored Akagera National Park dozens of times, yet each game drive begins the same way—Lake Ihema comes into view and instantly sets the mood. There’s something mesmerizing about its waters, shimmering under the sun as if every ripple is whispering centuries-old secrets.
Lake Ihema lies within a lowland depression fed by Kagera River. Ancient erosion of surrounding highlands and subsequent accumulation of alluvial sediments gradually shaped a swampy basin that retained water year-round. Over time, this basin evolved into a shallow, papyrus-fringed wetland, and through nature’s quiet, persistent workings, it gradually expanded into a full-fledged lake.
Back in the 19th century, Henry Morton Stanley pitched a tent on these shores during his second African expedition. He wasn’t a mere tourist—he was mapping lakes and rivers, circumnavigating Victoria and Tanganyika, and chasing the source of the Nile. Yet, it was that very tent that, according to oral tradition, gave the lake its name: Ihema, meaning “tent” in Kinyarwanda. Standing here today, I can picture him gazing across the water, two very different eyes separated by centuries yet meeting the same horizon.
I’m not here to celebrate the legacy of a 19th-century European explorer. His work ultimately served the machinery of colonial expansion, and from where I stand, that casts him in a darker light. Still, he passed through this place, and his expedition is woven into the fabric of our history.
I’ve admired Lake Ihema from so many angles—once from my cozy cottage at Akagera Rhino Lodge, where the lake glowed softly at dawn like it was waking up with me. And then from the sky, on a hot air balloon, where Ihema sprawls like a giant sapphire nestled in a lush green velvet blanket. From up there, you understand just how alive the lake is—how it breathes, shifts, and holds entire ecosystems within its embrace. But here’s the twist: despite all these encounters, I’ve never taken a boat ride. At last, this festive season, I’ll glide across Ihema’s waters and feel the lake come alive beneath me.
I’m heading to Ruzizi Tented Lodge, ready to finally surrender to the rhythm of the lake. I can already picture myself stepping onto that boat—feeling the gentle wobble beneath my feet, hearing the soft slap of water against the hull. I’m ready to wave at hippos popping up like curious neighbors, dodge lazy crocodiles sunbathing by the reeds, and watch herons perform their graceful water ballet, gliding low as if painting strokes across the still surface.
And then there’s Nyirabiyoro Island. At first glance, it seems like a quiet, unassuming gem—but local legend insists otherwise. According to the stories passed down through generations, the island is named after Nyirabiyoro, an 18th-century fortune-teller whose life became entwined with the crocodile-brewing ground. Some say she was banished there after a prophecy angered King Kigeli III Ndabarasa; others whisper that she sought refuge on the abandoned island. Whether by royal decree or her own choice, the tales speak of her presence among the reeds and waves, the surround waters keeping watch over her secrets.
Lake Ihema is more than a sight to behold; it is a living archive, a call to move with the rhythm of time—and this holiday season, I am ready to answer that call.