In this remote corner of southern Rwanda, Twa Pygmies are fighting a losing battle against the modern realities of environmentalism that are robbing them of their traditions.
Sandwiched between the Burundian border and the edge of the dense Nyungwe rainforest, the village of Bweyeye is on the frontline of an increasingly divisive struggle between the dimin-utive Twa and the long arm of Rwandan law.
Forced to abandon their centuries-old hunter-gatherer lifestyle by a ban on such activity in the maze of giant tropical trees, towering ferns and tiny orchids, many Twa have descended into crushing poverty and alcoholism.
PHOTO: AP
Nyungwe, home to chimpanzees and other monkey species, is a stretch of rainforest in this central African region and Rwandan officials are keen to exploit its eco-tourism potential by protecting it.
But the Twa say the restrictions are destroying their community, which sits at the end of a track so potholed that even the most robust four-wheel drive vehicle struggles to do more than 10 kilometers an hour.
"I realize that nature reserves bring tourists and that tourists bring dollars, but we don't get to see any of those dollars here in Bweyeye," said Felicien Hakizimana, a 35-year-old Twa father of three.
"This ban on setting foot in the forest is a problem because our ancestors lived from the forest, they even used to hunt elephants there," he said, adding that, once, the meat from an elephant could sustain a family for a month.
"Now we will soon die of hunger," Hakizimana said.
In addition to providing food, the 970-square-kilometer Nyungwe forest used to provide the Twa with essential fuel and raw materials such as wood for building.
But no longer.
While the forest ban is not new -- it was first imposed by the 1973-1994 regime of president Juvenal Habyarimana that ended with Rwanda's infamous genocide -- it is now being enforced with vigor, they say.
"Sometimes we do sneak in, but it's very dangerous," says Manashe, who goes by one name, a wizened barefoot Twa who looks far older than the 55 years he admits to being.
The fine for those caught in the forest is between 10,000 and 15,000 Rwandan francs (US$18 dollars to US$27 dollars), an amount higher than the monthly income of most in Bweyeye that forces many offenders to opt for jail time instead.
Evariste Munyemanzi is among those unable to pay the fine. The shoeless 36-year-old sits in detention at the Bweyeye police station.
"We used to be potters, but you can't get the clay any more now," Munyemanzi complains. "It's tempting to go out and steal."
The Twa insist that if and when they do go into the forest it is simply to collect firewood, but privately some admit to catching monkeys, baboons and forest rats.
Bweyeye local administrator Octave Rukundo is well aware of the hardships the ban has caused but is adamant that the law be respected.
"They say they go to get wood for fuel, but in fact they also take wood to sell," he said.
"They hunt the animals," Rukundo said. "They make traps, they dig holes two meters deep and place branches over the top so that animals fall in.
"They make fires to get smoke to chase bees away and collect their honey, but those fires can then burn the forest," he said, noting there had been two forest fires so far this year.
"We have to find an activity to occupy them and to prevent them from going into the forest," Rukundo said, admitting this is easier said than done.
Like other Rwandans, the Twa, who make up about one percent of the country's 8 million population, used to own land, but as long as they had the forest it was of little importance and plots were sold off to their Hutu and Tutsi neighbors.
It was only when the forest ban began to be enforced that they realized the importance of farming their own land and then it was too late.
When the Twa here can get work it is usually on their neighbors' land and the pay is a pittance.
"Sometimes I get work cleaning up my neighbor's plot," says Esperance Gashugi, a 50-year-old mother of five children who earns US$0.20 per day for the backbreaking labor.
"I can buy sweet potatoes," she said. "There is never enough for all the children and they go to school on an empty stomach."
In despair and frustration, some Twa have turned to drink.
"The real problem," one non-Twa inhabitant of Bweyeye said, "is that these people don't want farmland, they don't want development projects."
"What they want is to be able to go hunting in the forest again and that's not going to happen."
The year was 1991. A Toyota Land Cruiser set out on a 67km journey up the Junda Forest Road (郡大林道) toward an old loggers’ camp, at which point the hikers inside would get out and begin their ascent of Jade Mountain (玉山). Little did they know, they would be the last group of hikers to ever enjoy this shortcut into the mountains. An approaching typhoon soon wiped out the road behind them, trapping the vehicle on the mountain and forever changing the approach to Jade Mountain. THE CONTEMPORARY ROUTE Nowadays, the approach to Jade Mountain from the north side takes an
Last week Joseph Nye, the well-known China scholar, wrote on the Australian Strategic Policy Institute’s website about how war over Taiwan might be averted. He noted that years ago he was on a team that met with then-president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁), “whose previous ‘unofficial’ visit to the US had caused a crisis in which China fired missiles into the sea and the US deployed carriers off the coast of Taiwan.” Yes, that’s right, mighty Chen caused that crisis all by himself. Neither the US nor the People’s Republic of China (PRC) exercised any agency. Nye then nostalgically invoked the comical specter
Relations between Taiwan and the Czech Republic have flourished in recent years. However, not everyone is pleased about the growing friendship between the two countries. Last month, an incident involving a Chinese diplomat tailing the car of vice president-elect Hsiao Bi-khim (蕭美琴) in Prague, drew public attention to the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC) operations to undermine Taiwan overseas. The trip was not Hsiao’s first visit to the Central European country. It was meant to be low-key, a chance to meet with local academics and politicians, until her police escort noticed a car was tailing her through the Czech capital. The
April 15 to April 21 Yang Kui (楊逵) was horrified as he drove past trucks, oxcarts and trolleys loaded with coffins on his way to Tuntzechiao (屯子腳), which he heard had been completely destroyed. The friend he came to check on was safe, but most residents were suffering in the town hit the hardest by the 7.1-magnitude Hsinchu-Taichung Earthquake on April 21, 1935. It remains the deadliest in Taiwan’s recorded history, claiming around 3,300 lives and injuring nearly 12,000. The disaster completely flattened roughly 18,000 houses and damaged countless more. The social activist and