Postcard from Rwanda

INSPIRATION | CABANA TRAVEL | WORLD OF CABANA

If Rwanda were a Shakespearean play it would be Macbeth, for it is a world shrouded in clouds and infinite mystery, writes Luke Abrahams. He shares a postcard from an inspiring journey through the country, in search of its volcanoes and the gorillas of Virunga. 

BY LUKE ABRAHAMS | CABANA TRAVEL | 5 MAY 2026

History permeates through every aspect of Rwandan life. And the road to Volcanoes National Park is no exception. The long three-hour journey to the mountains begins in Kigali, a city of dizzying perspectives: The highways are packed; the streets are frenetic; and the faces, well lived in, scarred and storied. My driver Henry fled to neighboring Uganda during the height of the Rwandan genocide in 1994. His family escaped unscathed to the border too, but others were not so lucky. Some 80,000 Rwandans were slaughtered over a period of 100 days; a wound and legacy scholars describe as one of the darkest moments in world history.

“Everyone has a tough story to tell. If they do not speak it, their faces say it. The fact we are here progressing, smiling and moving on is a surreal miracle,” Henry says driving further up the mountain. I first heard stories of the genocide not from the news, but from my mother. It was always her dream to escape to the hills of Rwanda since she was a rebellious Madonna-loving 80s teenager. For as long as I can remember, she would always tell me stories of this distant land thanks to her fascination with its culture and the mountain gorillas. Now, here I was exploring it on her behalf as she sat home in bed plagued by debilitating illnesses.

After passing endless fields and small mountain top villages, the Virungas slowly emerged like ice picks shooting up from the ground. Five volcanoes – Mount Karisimbi, Mount Bisoke, Mount Muhabura, Mount Gahinga and Mount Sabyinyo – make up this ancient natural spectacle. Around the volcanoes, lush bamboo forests, steep green, terraced hills, high-altitude lakes and alpine heaths add to all the park’s theater. If Rwanda were a Shakespearean play it would be Macbeth for it is a world shrouded in clouds and infinite mystery.  

My home for four nights is Singita Kwitonda, a 12-suite sanctuary on the edge of the national park. Two thousand meters above sea level the air is thin; the clouds thick and blousy; and the terrain, an endless mirage of towering and vast crater forests. The lodge itself is a boxed glass palace of bold colors and technicolor basket weavings, which celebrates the intricacies and artistic flair of Rwandan culture. Much of it was made using volcanic rock, oven-fired clay bricks and recycled materials hewn and wrung from neighbouring villages.

Perhaps the most surreal thing about being in this part of the world, however, is the quiet. Beyond the sounds of the birds and the howl of the mountains come the afternoon rains, is a place drowned in silence and stillness. I could feel the world around me: it’s pulse, its jolt; and its flair: it was as though the electricity of Mother Africa pulsated through my veins.

Life outside of the privacy of Kwitonda is just as spellbound. Endless fields snake their way up hills fringed by giant banana leaves and daisy plantations, and in between thatched clay houses cheeky children play, mothers sing as they weave traditional baskets and fathers carve the land using age old techniques and wooden machines. It’s a charming vision of pastoral beauty in which everything is blissfully simple and uncomplicated – something that has long been of part this region’s undulating charm. In every direction, molten reds to glossy blacks and complex geometric slants create a cinematic mise-en-scène of cinematic proportions.

Then there’s the main attraction: the gorillas. My trek began early through pyrethrum fields past women who eye us with an air of superstition. Every trek is different but mine ran through a green abyss of rocky paths and muddy trails flecked by ancient Hagenia abyssinica trees covered in moss, towering ferns and alpine shrubs. Among them, thistle, nettles, celery, galium and earthy roots covered the ground – all, staples of a healthy gorilla diet.

Eventually we arrived in the gorilla’s nest. A giant silverback named Uburanga emerged from the bushes. His head was godly and giant, and with every tilt, he inspected his kingdom with undisputed authority. In a clearing crowned by a silvery slithering waterfall sat seven females, the majority of them mothers cradling their young – one a mere two months old. In the background, the sound of young blackbacks beating their chests with their fists and stamping their feet hard on the wet ground echoed through the forest.

Nothing will ever prepare you for the experience of meeting a gorilla but as David Attenborough once said, “there is more meaning and mutual understanding in exchanging a glance with a gorilla than with any other animal". I felt the same. This backstage pass into Rwanda’s beating heart is simply unforgettable and for many, including me, is one of the world’s most profound and great gifts.

Rwanda is a place that stays with you. It’s viscerally raw, as it is deeply touching. I left with a profound sense of grief, not through leaving but for the simple fact my mother could not experience the magic of this country and the gorillas herself.