Hidden behind the narrative - As a reporter in Rwanda, I developed paranoia.
Experience the stunning sunset of my life filled with vibrant hues, a blood-orange sun dipping behind a lush green hill. Before me, Lake Kivu gently splashes against the beach, while three small wooden fishing boats with dragonfly slenderness drift through its waters, accompanied by a diving cormorant. The chorus of colorful birds serenades the evening sky as I kick back on the lodging's veranda, puffing on a cigarette and soaking up the sweet blend of a mojito. This is the enchanting image of Rwanda, as described by travel guides.
Two days later, on a hushed street in the capital city, Kigali, I stand at the gated sanctuary of Victoire Ingabire. The property is double locked, its perimeter fortified with barbed wire. Ingabire, a fierce critic of Rwandan leader Paul Kagame, has one-third of her timeline as an exile and two-thirds spent within the confines of a prison. She gestures toward a distant hill where a restrained car seemingly observes her.
Ingabire reveals her previous assistant was murdered in a forest, her political coordinator stabbed in his workplace. As she fears for her life, her routine leaves her constantly monitored by government spies on roller-skates. When I leave her home, I'm photographed by the secret service. In a cunning disguise, Ingabire, now a SIM card seller, covertly transacts businesses. When I film her, a woman in a pink headscarf quickly covers her face.
While Rwanda entices tourists, it's also a precarious destination for journalists and those who challenge the regime. For me, a 10-day visit granted me a peek into this complex world.
The Challenges of Reporting in Rwanda
Those who don't toe the line of well-behaved citizens can't even set foot in the country. For instance, Clémentine de Montjoye found herself banned from Rwandan soil upon arriving at the Kigali airport. She was greeted with the explanation, "you're not wanted in Rwanda." Sally Hayden, a skilled world traveler for "The Irish Times," was obstructed in her journey, held at the Addis Ababa airport from flying to Rwanda. I have collected stories from my journalist friends denied entry as they'd referenced critical topics as their clubbing cause.
My trip's pretense was gorilla-related, while also studying Rwanda's controversial refugee agreement with the UK. In the strictly-policed "Hope Hostel," meant to accommodate European deportees, both the persuasive hotel manager and a peculiar woman guarded me.
At every encounter, theve feminine suspect held out her smartphone and photographed me.
Kigali: Planned Celebration of a Scrutinized Country
Kagame's capital, Kigali, exhibits a refined aesthetic devoid of stereotypical African slums, visible homelessness, and rampant prostitution. Kagame simply elected to manage these incongruities out of existence. Law enforcers apprehend drug addicts, habitual drinkers, and street criminals. Transported to Iwawa, an island of social marginalization, they are forced back into mainstream society or left to rot.
The slightly rumpled emit a sense of unease surrounding this sanctimonious appearance.
Pretending a focus on gorillas, my fellow photographer, Hugh, and myself formed one of our security measures - isolating controversial, non-gorilla-related dialogue. We most often spoke about such matters amidst the wind or when our phones were turned off. The Rwandan regime is known to plant spyware on thousands of devices belonging to activists, dissidents, and journalists. I'd experienced inexplicable incidents on mine: A Tanzanian recruiter called me twice, and someone tried to hack my social media accounts.
Another acquaintance, whom I'll refer to as Peter, provided us with necessary access, context, and translations. He'd been detained by the government multiple times for his honest reporting on corruption and police violence or publicly demanding updates on a missing colleague, inexplicably found after his stint in prison. One of his kinsfolk also faced suspicious death while confined.
In time, my paranoia spiked, consumed by the looming threat of government surveillance as I witnessed : A brood of men on mopeds, each donning sunglasses, trailing me. As I traveled back from a meeting with Ingabire, my paranoia peaked: I jitterily maneuvered around and through traffic, scanning my rearview mirror for suspected tailing cars. Thankfully, to my relief, none pursued me.
Crisis hit when in hotel, I threw up uncontrollably and then, in an instant, faltered into a state of paranoia, "Now's my time!" I thought, as I frantically shot up some laudanum, expecting poisoning from the very drink I had earlier consumed.
After going through baggage checks for organs, contraband, and potential threats at the airport, and being denied access at the departure gate, I found myself feeling as though I were in a dimly lit interrogation room, with a cold glare from a government enforcer under flashing neon lights.
A short time afterward, the immigration official's stamp appeared on my passport. Securely back home with a clear mind, I feel compelled to return. Perhaps next time as a tourist. If Rwanda allows me.
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In this harrowing environment, Human Rights Watch has expressed concerns about the safety of journalists and critics in Rwanda, with Paul Kagame's secret service reportedly monitoring and harassing individuals who challenge the regime. Confronting Ingabire, a vocal critic of Kagame, revealed the dangerous lengths to which the secret service will go, as she described constant surveillance and a murder attempt on her assistant.
