I was fortunate enough to make a pilgrimage to Kibeho, the first Vatican-approved Marian apparition site on the African continent! And its in Rwanda, amazing! I was planning to go with Maria, the German volunteer from Kigali that I had met a few times, but our plans fell through at the last minute and I ended up going there alone. It was alright though. I had spent the night at Maria's house in Kigali, and the next day I rode into town and surprisingly found the Horizon bus station without any troubles (I had only had a vague idea of where it might be). I had a nice early-morning bus ride to Butare, about 3 hours. Had a good English conversation with an older man studying political science at the university there. He was kind of like a tour guide, pointing out all kinds of landmarks on the way. From Butare, I got out and took another Horizon bus to Nyaruguru. It was confusing because I was expecting the destination to be "Kibeho," but I soon learned that Nyaruguru is the name of the village, and Kibeho is the name of the parish. I had to walk across the street to where a lone, shady-looking matatu (what matatu isn't shady-looking, really?) was parked all by itself. There were a few people inside, fortunately, which makes it slightly less shady. So I asked them if they were going to Kibeho, and everyone pleasantly replied that they were. I had a nice chat with an older man sitting next to me for a good portion of the way. However, after only about 10 minutes out of Butare (on a paved road, thank God), we broke down. There was smoke coming out from under the vehicle, so we all got out and had to wait for another to come take us the rest of the way. I was sure we'd be there for at least an hour and a half, but we were on the road again in a fresh new matatu after only 20 minutes! The rest of the road from Butare to Nyaruguru is a perfectly African road. Not paved, quite muddy in certain areas, and completely in the depths of the hills, through the wilderness. You're really going into the "vrai baturagye," the "true village."
The nice man next to me eventually got out, and I had more room to spread out. Soon thereafter, a guy who was sitting in front of me turned around and struck up a conversation in very good English. I was very grateful for this conversation, because when we finally arrived at the "station" in Nyaruguru, I was completely lost. The "station" was just a cloth "Horizon" banner attached to the side of one of a handful of shacks that make up "town." I saw no church, no beautiful signs pointing toward the virgin Mary, nothing that I would expect to find in a Marian apparition sight. It seemed we were in the middle of no where. Good. But I've certainly learned to avoid panicking because there'll surely be a way out. And yep, my friend from the bus, whose name was Bosco, showed me that I just have to go up the hill a bit, and you'll see the parish of Kibeho appear in all its glory.
Bosco turned out to be another perfect example of Rwandan hospitality. He walked me all around the church, and even helped me find a place to stay for the night. And funny, he actually entered seminary but left after a few years. Along the way he freely shared with me that he is a genocide survivor who lost most of his family. We encountered a memorial procession with many people wearing their purple scarves, and he brought this up very casually.
We parted ways when I decided to go find a room at the Centre d'Acceuil, because I couldn't find any other place to stay that were clearly labeled as such. According to Sr. Yvette, there are "so so many" guest houses in Kibeho. I dunno, maybe you need to know the priests or sisters who own them, because there sure weren't any signs or info anywhere in order to find them. Luckily, there is one across the street from the sanctuary run by some Sisters whose charism is caring for pilgrims to the holy site. They actually had a sign, so I felt more comfortable going there. Bosco carried on with his business in the region, but we agreed to stay in touch.
Finding a room at the Centre d'Acceuil was harder than it should have been. The reception area was closed at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, but I heard voices coming from one open door a bit further down. This room turned out to be the dining hall. So, I went there and soon a young girl who was not very confident in her French but was smiley and nice showed me all the rooms. There were apparently no other guests. I was the first one registered in her book for the day. I asked her if the place really was empty, and she said there will be more in the evening. I ended up getting the most expensive room, which was $20 a night. This room had a functional shower, sink, and toilet of its own, along with a large bed and a desk. The cheaper rooms were dorm-style with a shared bathroom, but there was no water in the bathroom. There were large barrels of water in the hall that you filled up your basin with. However, since it was still early in the day, before the "rush," these barrels had not yet been filled. I desperately needed to at least wash my face, so I splurged and paid for the expensive room.
I got some food in the dining room, after a bit of surprising interaction with the girls who worked there. For some reason, everybody just seemed really surprised to see me. I don't really get it…is it not that common for lone pilgrims to show up tired and hungry? The girls only spoke Kinyarwanda, which I also thought was weird since this is a site that people from all around the world have visited. It didn't perturb me too much, because again, I've gotten used to stuff being the opposite of what you expect. I had a good meal in this single room that was detached from the rest of the dining hall. I have no idea why the waitress put me in there instead of out in the big room…oh well, I didn't mind.
Throughout the course of the weekend, I saw the sanctuary of Our Lady of Sorrows, the little outdoor meditation garden in between the sanctuary and the new school, the outdoor rosary walk, the 7 sorrows walk, the outdoor stations of the Cross, and the original church that is now a genocide memorial site because many people were killed inside the church. The church itself is still used as a regular place of worship for the parish. I actually went to Sunday Mass there because I didn't know when they had Mass in the sanctuary. Another thing that was surprising – the girls who worked at the guest house didn't know the Mass times. You'd think that would be a commonly asked question by pilgrims. I just got up early on Sunday morning to do the stations walk by myself, and just followed the people I saw walking. Yep, sure enough, they were going to church. It was nice because many of the songs were the same exact songs we sing at Muhato, but none of them were ones that I knew the words to.
I did enjoy some nice quiet time in the sactuary and on the different prayer walks, but the whole weekend was not what I was expecting or hoping for. I think my time there was darkened ever so slightly just by all the surprising disappointments. I expected there to be lots of other people there on pilgrimages, since it was the month of May, but there was no one. I only met a nice guy from Uganda named Martin who was there to pray. He was staying at another guest house that I have no idea how he found. I also expected the local people to be pretty accustomed to seeing white people, and to therefore have fewer stares and kids calling me muzungu. But it was no less than in any other area of Rwanda. And of course, I was hoping to have a really spiritually refreshing retreat, but I didn't have any deep moving encounters or profound scales dropping from my eyes. Don't get me wrong, it was a peaceful weekend, but not earth-shaking. All of these things, combined with the lack of information about mass times, lodging, and where to buy souvenirs, made for a sub-par journey. I enjoyed it, but I certainly hope to go back on a Marian feast day, when the place is packed and mass is celebrated outside because there's no way everybody can fit inside the church. Sr. Josephine told me that on any ordinary weekend, even in the month of May, it is usually empty. Only on special Marian days is it what I was expecting.
On a brighter note, I did spend quite a bit of time with my friend from the bus, Bosco. I met up with him later that afternoon the day I arrived there. His cousin owns one of the bars there, so she gave us free Fanta! We sat and chatted there in a multitude of languages so everyone could understand, and also enjoyed some brochette (meat on a stick) from a butcher across the street.
Once when I was walking into "town," I was politely greeted by two women chatting by the side of the road. We were right in front of the Kibeho gift shop. There was only this one building with a sign saying "The Kibeho Foundation. Items for prayer, gifts, devotionals" in several languages. I really expected there to be people selling rosaries and stuff all over the place, but there seemed to be just this one store. And it had been closed all weekend. Well, it sure does pay off to be smiley! It turned out that one of these women who greeted me outside owns the shop. She opened it right up for me, and put up with me in there for like an hour! I had a list, I meant business. I had wedding gifts to buy and lots of people to get chaplets and other holy souvenirs for. I really spent a lot of money there. But once again, the woman helping me seemed so surprised about all this. It seemed that every time I asked her to see certain things up close (everything was behind the counter, you must ask for it), she was shocked that I wasn't finished buying stuff yet. Honestly, it was embarrassing and a bit uncomfortable to see her shocked facial expressions, but I knew I wouldn't be back here again. I had to get these gifts! I heard her give a sigh of relief when I finally walked out of that store with loads of stuff in my bag.
After this, I had an enjoyable experience visiting Nyarushishi. This is a distant hill near Kibeho, where there is a giant statue of the Divine Mercy. I had to ask one of the many Sisters hanging around the Our Lady of Sorrows chapel. She was very kind and helpful. She instructed me to just take a moto and tell them I want to go to Jesus Miséricorde, and they'll know just what I mean. So, I went there, and it was quite a hike. Definitely would have either a) gotten very very very lost trying to walk there or b) gotten so tired that I would have just given up. Thankfully, I did not take my fellow pilgrim-friend, Martin's, advice and walk there. I saw the giant statue, which was in Chicago for a period of time but was sent to Rwanda as its final resting place. As I was there, I realized that this place is the community of the Marian Fathers! I remembered that there was a Marian Father present at Rambura with Sr. Gisele and I when we went there for a vocational talk with the students. He had mentioned that they have a house in Kibeho, and specifically said to me that I should stop in if I do end up going there. So, I called Sr. Gisele to ask her if she remembered this particular priest's name. Unfortunately she did not, but she remembered that this priest was the one in charge of novitiate. She encouraged me to just go knock on the door anyways and explain myself. Well, I mustered up the courage to do so, and I rang the bell. An extremely friendly European priest let me in, but said that the novitiate priest that I knew lives in a community in a different city. Well, I explained all about who I was, and this guy let me in as if I was one of his own volunteers! He offered me a quick lunch, since I was planning on catching the bus back to Butare in an hour. After trying to politely refuse, I realized I could not, and I enjoyed the deliciousness. I can't even remember what it was but it sure was good. He then took me on a comprehensive tour of their entire compound, and told me all about his 20+ years in Rwanda! He apparently knows and works closely with Immaculée Ilibagiza, and can see the plot of land that she recently bought to build a childrens' home. To top off this priest's amazing hospitality, he offered to drive me to the bus station.
He did drive me there, and I bought a ticket just in the nick of time. There was a bit of confusion about what time the next bus left, but I got lucky. The priest went back home, and I gratefully got on the bus. The drive home was insane. The road was very muddy in certain areas, so our rickety matatu would lurch forward as if driving through 6 inches of snow, crawling along through the muck. Then we'd hit a dry patch and would speed like the devil. But in no time we'd be lurching again. It was like that the entire way, for a good hour. But we did not break down, unlike the ride there! So, overall, my weekend in Kibeho was good. In terms of my actual pilgrimage, it was much the opposite of what I had thought/hoped it would be. But Rwanda, Africa probably, is often the opposite of what you expect. Instead, you find people like Bosco and the Marian Fathers whose acceptance, friendship, and hospitality more than make up for any disappointment in not getting what you expected.
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