It was a strangely calm yet eerie sight to look out of the window as we came in to land. It was dusk, moving into darkness, and there was a mist settling upon the hills, becoming unusually dark. I was probably just overreacting. I still had the frightful images of the genocide in my head…
In true traveller style, I pulled out my camera as soon as we set foot upon the tarmac, only to have it immediately snatched from my hand by a security guard. I begged and pleaded for the next few minutes, and it was returned eventually. You are not allowed to take pictures there. Perhaps an oversensitive nerve, but the genocide in 1994 was sparked off when the plane carrying the then president was shot down at the airport. Not far from where I was standing.