I was seated on a bench on the slopes of Mount Kanyinya, taking a well-earned break from the hike.
Pausing midway through the climb, I sipped some water with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had worked hard enough to deserve the view.
The spot looked less like a resting place for hikers and more like a picnic site. It was easy to imagine spending an entire afternoon there without giving the unfinished climb another thought.
The view was worth every step. From where I sat, I could see the confluence of the Nyabugogo and Nyabarongo rivers. The highway cut across the landscape below, while the rolling hills of Kamonyi and Nyarugenge stretched into the distance.
I let my gaze travel from one hill to another, admiring the houses scattered across the slopes. On the Nyarugenge side, I noticed several new settlements that I did not recognize. That surprised me because I like to believe I know Kigali reasonably well. Apparently, the city had been expanding without first seeking my approval.
One neighborhood in particular caught my attention. It looked neat, colorful, and inviting. I stared at it for a while, trying to guess its name, but my geographical instincts failed me. Instead of accepting defeat, I decided to go there and explore.
My plan was simple: find my way there, walk around, ask someone the name of the place, and perhaps stop at a local bar for a cold Panache. While I was at it, I would also investigate the housing market in the area. Although I was not house-hunting, I saw no harm in collecting information.
By the time I rose from the bench, the neighborhood across the valley was no longer just part of the scenery. It had become my next destination. The hiking break had sparked an unexpected detour, one that would soon lead to another story.