Rwanda has just ended its week-long official mourning and commemoration period for the victims of the 1994 genocide. It coincided with Easter, turning what should be a festive occasion into one of deep reflection.

It is 13 years since those dreadful events, but questions about how and why it could have happened remain. More significant is the determination by many that it should never happen again. That, of course, excludes the gangs of genocidaires lurking in the forests of Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. Supported by a global network of sympathisers, among them some shameless and surprising members of the ’international community, they continue to look for ways to return and carry on with unfinished ’work’. Africa 2007

Rwanda is an incredibly beautiful country. You have to travel around it and see the undulating hills, the greenery, and its small but beautiful lakes to understand what I mean. It also has a serious and impressive but much maligned - mainly by uninformed and misinformed foreigners - government with a state widely acknowledged, even by critics, to be effective and efficient.

In many African cities and towns, visitors are greeted by heaps of garbage, swarms of flies, clouds of dust, and gully-deep potholes in the roads. In Kigali and smaller towns, however, they are surprised and impressed by the general cleanliness and orderliness, and the visible efforts directed at keeping infrastructure in good repair.

A European friend and colleague, a first-time visitor to Kigali who arrived via the DRC’s capital, Kinshasa, also known by Congolese as ’Kin la poubelle’ (Kinshasa the garbage tip) and provincial town, Goma, was staggered by the difference. But then prior to the visit, they had had the lowest of expectations. Two years ago I met a Rwanda-based European diplomat on a day trip to Goma. During a long conversation about the DRC, Rwanda, Uganda and Africa in general, he made a memorable remark: being in Goma with its rubbish, bad roads, glaring poverty and general mayhem made him feel he was in ’real Africa’.

Kigali with its clean streets, orderly traffic and general tranquillity on the other hand, gave him a completely different feeling. As a regular visitor to both places, I know what he meant. Kigali, for example, is the only African city I have been to, and I have been to many, where traffic cops are always on the roads, rain or shine, and where motorists know that they will be punished if they breach traffic regulations, regardless of their station in life. Even military generals are treated the same way as ordinary beings by the police. And the generals lead one of the most professional, disciplined and inspired armies in the world. ’Zero tolerance for corruption’ is not a mere slogan.

But Rwanda is also a strange country. For one thing, while they are generally polite (except when they mean to be rude) and welcoming, it would be an exaggeration to claim that Rwandans are spontaneously warm in the same way as the ever exuberant Congolese are, for instance. They are among the most reserved and introverted people I know. Newcomers to the country could easily mistake their reserve for quiet hostility. Rwanda’s strangeness comes into sharp relief when one considers the scale of violence some of the country’s citizens have repeatedly visited upon a section of their compatriots.

Over the last seven years I have developed a strong affection for the country. Professional reasons aside, that partly explains why I spend a great deal of time there. During this time, I have also done a lot of combing of the country’s (mostly political) history. It is not pretty. The more I read the more I am intrigued by the major events that colour this history. The recent mourning period found me there.

I spent hours watching documentaries and films about the 1994 genocide, the most recent among the country’s several politically-motivated episodes of mass murder. The more I watched, the more shocking they seemed to become. More shocking, though, is the knowledge that there are Rwandans who see mass murder as ’work’, and still value it as a political weapon.

The Monitor (Kampala)