A Presidential Harvest: Uncovering the Hidden Gem of Kwa’Ibubu
Discovering the Hidden Gem of Kw’Ibubu
Not long ago, I shared the story of a group of soldiers who took the RN1, feeling blue, in search of warmer air. During this wandering which led them into the middle of the country, one of these black sheep wandered from the herd and found himself as if by chance in Kw’Ibubu, the Holy of Holies. To say that Kw’Ibubu is undergoing a makeover would be a gross understatement. Like a phoenix reborn from its ashes, she dresses in her finest finery.
Charles de Gaulle was born in Lille, the great Pythagoras in Samos, Napoleon Bonaparte in Ajaccio. Yes, great people are born from somewhere. The first Burundian was also born somewhere. One morning, while the mouflons were still snoozing in a hotel in Gitega, I was gripped by a raging desire for adventure. What to do to get out of this miserable routine of a boring mission? Prepare paper like this: How does Gitega adorn himself with his best finery to deserve his new classification as political capital? Too stingy!
Trample my feet Kw’Ibubu or nothing else
So I leave Gitega town. Nyambeho, Ku Kirato, Giheta, Ruvyironza, Kwa Tumbu, Ryanyoni, all these areas pass before my eyes. No doubt, I am Kirimiro. Arriving at Murayi junction, a little fear arises from my paparazzi mind and disappears immediately. It is said that the area is very well guarded by the security forces and that even agents of the intelligence services flock there.
I landed in front of a goat that would make the most vegetarian of vegetarians green with envy! A serious head, hanging high and short, fat as anything, freshly butchered, fat as it should be, licked my lips as I settled into one of the refreshments where I fully intending to gorge myself, not only on the meat, but also on a stunning view of Kw’Ibubu in all its splendor. A few skewers later, I was already sharing a table with the locals and we were chatting as if we were old friends.
“Kw’IBubu is clearly changing”, one of my new friends whispers to me. “How much does a plot here cost? ». He looks at me like I’m from Mars. “No, you won’t get it. There in the lower part of the city, if you have a god you get 100 million » (There are no more. With a little luck, further from the center, you can get one for 100 million BIF). It’s my turn to widen my eyes.
“Where nothing grows except the political hierarchy”
We downed some drinks down the skewers we had swallowed. I think back to this nasty dig thrown at Bururi nationals, from the time when Major Pierre Buyoya (by the way, the 3rd president of this state to lead the country) was still in charge: “Right, where nothing grows except the political hierarchy”. Gitega is on his second president anyway, as Sylvestre Ntibantunganya also comes from Gishubi, one of the communes of Gitega, where…..bananas, colocasis, avocados, beans, the list is long.
A break from meat and beer, I express my wish to visit Kibimba secondary school and hospital. Actually, I wanted to see the President’s house. To my surprise, one of my new friends tells me he has a motorbike. I thought he was going to drive me, but he tells me he has one more beer he can’t leave him destitute. He waves the ignition key in my face and asks me if I know how to handle it. I answer yes.
Some subtle information allowed me to find out where the President stays when he visits his home country. Buildings surrounded by a long baked brick wall and guarded by security agents. That’s all I can say, because I flew by, you understand why. Further on, to a reliable source I ask: was he born here on Kibimba hill? No, it’s there. A finger shows me a certain spot on Musama Hill. I don’t see anything special around.