Health Begins with Clean Water

 On a misty Monday morning in Gashora, children hurry to school with yellow jerrycans bouncing against their legs. For years, these cans were symbols of sickness containers that carried water from a swamp that silently spread stomach infections, worms, and cholera. But today, they carry something new hope.

Three months ago, the community of Gashora opened its first cleanwater borehole, a project that changed not only how people drink but how they live. Behind the laughter of the children gathering around the new tap is a long story of struggle, pain, and remarkable transformation.

Scene Setting:A Community in Crisis

For decades, Gashora’s 3,000 residents relied on a seasonal swamp two kilometers away. During rainy seasons, the water was muddy and full of bacteria. During dry seasons, the water almost disappeared, forcing families to dig shallow holes just to find a few brown drops.

Every week, we treated at least 15 children for diarrhea,” says Nurse Alice Mukamana, a health worker at Gashora Health Post. “Some days, we even ran out of rehydration salts because the cases were too many.”

Her voice softens as she recalls losing a five-year-old boy last year due to dehydration. “It broke us. We knew something had to change.”

The Turning Point

That change began when a group of youth from the community, led by Jean Claude Nshimiyimana, wrote a proposal to a local NGO requesting support for a clean-water project. The NGO agreed, on one condition: the community had to participate in the construction.

And they did. Men cleared the land. Women carried stones and sand. Youth helped dig. Even schoolchildren collected small contributions from their weekend pocket money.

It was the first time I saw everyone working together like that,” Jean Claude says with a proud smile. “We knew we weren’t just building a borehole—we were building a future.”

Expert Insight: Why Clean Water Matters

According to Dr. Clement Nkurunziza, a public health expert in Bugesera District, clean water is the foundation of every healthy community.

When water improves, everything improves school performance, nutrition, women’s safety, and even economic productivity,” he explains.

People underestimate water, but it is actually the first medicine a community needs.

Dr. Clement notes that Gashora used to record some of the highest waterborne disease cases in the district. “If they continue maintaining the borehole well,” he says, “their health statistics will change completely within a year.”

Voices from the Community (Citizen Source)

At the borehole, Mama Chantal, a mother of four, waits with her youngest daughter. She laughs shyly when asked how life has changed.

My children have not missed school this term because of stomach pain, she says. Before, every month at least one of them was sick. Now, I don’t spend money at the health center. I save it for food.

Her daughter giggles, splashing her hands in the clean water as if it is something magical.

A group of teenage boys nearby say the borehole saved them time. Imagine two hours to fetch water, twice a day  says 15-year-old Eric. Now it takes ten minutes. I have more time for football—and homework.

Data That Tells the Story

According to records from Gashora Health Post:

• Waterborne diseases have dropped by 72% since the borehole opened.
• School attendance has risen by 34% for children aged 6–12.
• Households report saving an average of 3,000 RWF per week, money previously spent on medicine and transport to the health center.

These numbers confirm what the community already feels: life is changing.

A Future Built on Clean Water

The village leadership has now formed a Water Committee to manage the borehole. Members collect a small monthly contribution from households for maintenance, ensuring the water system does not collapse like many donor projects do.

We learned our lesson,” says the village leader. This is our water. Our responsibility. Our future.

Plans are already underway to add a second tap stand closer to the school so children no longer have to leave class to fetch water.

A Story of Health, Unity, and Hope

What began as a simple wish safe water turned into a powerful story of collaboration and change. Today, when the sun sets over Gashora, families sit outside their homes knowing their children will sleep without stomach cramps, fever, or fear.

Clean water didn’t just transform their health.

It restored dignity, unity, and possibility.

As Nurse Alice watches children run past the clinic, she smiles.

Sometimes, saving a community starts with just one drop, she says. And Gashora is finally overflowing

Inyamibwa cultural troupe

 

After the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, Rwanda was left in silence one filled with pain, broken families, and unanswered questions. Among the silence were children, thousands of them, left orphaned and traumatized. Many had witnessed horrors no child should ever see. They had lost their parents, homes, and in many ways, their childhoods.

But even in that deep sorrow, a seed of hope began to grow.

From these children came a new generation one that did not want to be defined by tragedy. They gathered, supported one another, and formed AERG the Association of Student Survivors of the Genocide. It was more than just a group. It was a family. A place of healing, understanding, and purpose. And within that family, something extraordinary was born: Inyamibwa Cultural Troupe.

Inyamibwa became a safe and powerful space for both girls and boys young survivors who chose to express their pain, identity, and pride not with words, but with movement, music, and tradition. They danced not just to perform, but to remember. They sang not only to be heard, but to feel alive again.

Through the revival of traditional Rwandan dances, songs, and ceremonies, these young people reconnected with a history that genocide had tried to erase. They wore the traditional garments with pride. Their bodies moved in harmony with drums that once echoed in the royal courts. And every performance became a declaration of life, healing, and rebirth.

Inyamibwa was not created simply to entertain. It was born to restore. To guide these young men and women in becoming proud, confident, and culturally grounded individuals. Many of them had grown up without parents, but they found strength in unity, family in each other, and identity in culture. And through that, they transformed pain into pride.

Over time, Inyamibwa evolved into one of Rwanda’s most respected cultural troupes. Today, they perform at major national events, ceremonies, and international stages. But behind every graceful move and every joyful smile is a powerful story a story of survival, resilience, and national pride.

Both boys and girls stand side by side on stage. Together, they represent Rwanda’s past and future. The boys step like warriors of the old kingdom, their bodies firm and strong. The girls move with elegance and beauty, reflecting the grace of Rwandan womanhood. But beyond gender, they are united as children of Rwanda heirs of a culture that refused to be forgotten.

Inyamibwa reminds Rwanda and the world that culture is not something buried in museums or locked in history books. It is alive. It is moving. It is dancing. It is healing. Their performances are not simply about remembering the past they are about rebuilding the spirit of a nation.

These young people, once thought to be lost, have become leaders, artists, and ambassadors of tradition. They show us that no matter how deep the wound, culture can be the path to healing. That even after horror, joy can return. That from ashes, beauty can rise again.

They are Inyamibwa not just a cultural troupe, but a living symbol of Rwanda’s strength. Boys and girls, hand in hand, heart to heart, dancing not just for applause but for meaning.

And every time they step on stage, they tell the world: “We are here. We survived. We remember. And we are proud to be Rwandan.”

As the years passed, Inyamibwa grew. They were no longer just a group of girls dancing in schools they became a national symbol. They performed at cultural festivals, national events, and international platforms. Audiences watched in awe, not just because of their beauty and talent, but because of what they represented. Every performance was a declaration: “We are still here. We are still proud. We are Rwanda.”

What makes Inyamibwa so powerful is not only their artistic skill, but their story. They are a reminder that out of ashes, something beautiful can rise. That even after a history so dark, there is still color, light, and joy. They embody the strength of the Rwandan woman the Nyampibwa full of dignity, grace, and courage.

Even today, as Rwanda moves forward, the girls of Inyamibwa continue to carry the culture on their shoulders. They are preserving the past, inspiring the present, and shaping the future. They remind every Rwandan child that they come from a people who do not give up. A people who rebuild. A people who dance again after the tears.

To witness Inyamibwa is to witness Rwanda herself broken once, but never destroyed. Through their movements, the world sees the power of healing, of memory, and of hope. They are not just a cultural troupe. They are living testimony that from the worst of tragedies, the most beautiful stories can be born.

The Heartbeat of Rwanda 🇷🇼 A Story of Culture, Identity, and Pride

In the heart of Africa lies a land whose culture beats like a steady drum through the mountains, the valleys, and the people themselves. Rwanda. A land of a thousand hills, but even more than that, a land of a thousand stories carried through dance, language, tradition, and the silent strength of its people.

To be Rwandan is to carry dignity in your walk, respect in your words, and pride in your past. You feel it when traditional drums echo across a festival ground, when dancers step in perfect rhythm, their movements honoring the ancestors. The crowd doesn’t just watch they feel. The ground seems to move with them. That’s not just a performance it’s heritage alive on stage.

From the time one is born in Rwanda, culture surrounds them like a second skin. Children are taught to greet elders with respect, to share what little they have, and to listen closely when an elder begins a story. Because in Rwanda, storytelling is more than entertainment it’s how wisdom is passed down. A simple proverb can hold the lessons of an entire lifetime.

The pride of Rwandan tradition can also be seen in its art. In the Eastern region, women skillfully mix clay and natural dyes with something as unexpected as cow dung, turning it into beautiful spiral patterns known as Imigongo. What some would throw away, Rwandans turn into beauty. That’s the spirit of the people strong, creative, and deeply connected to the land.

Even the cows in Rwanda are not just cows they are sacred. The Inyambo, with their long, elegant horns, once belonged to kings and were decorated with beads and bells. Today, they are symbols of wealth, peace, and beauty. A blessing in Rwanda is often spoken as, “May you have many cows.” It’s not just about riches it’s about life, harmony, and prosperity.

Culture also lives in celebration. Before the arrival of colonization, Rwanda had Umuganura, the festival of the first harvest, where people brought their best crops to offer in thanksgiving. Today, that tradition has returned bringing communities together to celebrate unity, hard work, and gratitude. It is not just about food; it’s about remembering who we are and where we came from.

The heartbeat of Rwanda is strongest when the people dance. The Intore dancers, wearing flowing robes and moving with honor and pride, tell stories with every jump, every step. Their energy is contagious, their discipline unmatched. These dances, passed down through generations, are not only a way to entertain but a way to connect the present with the past.

But Rwandan culture is not stuck in history. It continues to grow. The youth are proudly blending tradition with modern expression mixing Kinyarwanda with poetry and rap, designing clothing that reflects ancient patterns, and reviving lost customs with new energy. Women, once seen only in the background, now lead cultural movements, preserving crafts, dances, and stories that would otherwise be forgotten.

In Rwanda, culture is not just in museums or book sit’s in how people greet each other, how weddings are celebrated, how children are named, and how death is honored. It is in the quiet moments when a grandmother braids her granddaughter’s hair, or a father teaches his son how to sit with humility and speak with honor.

Even after the darkest chapter in the country’s history, when the Genocide against the Tutsi tried to erase everything beautiful Rwanda rose again. Not just in economy, but in soul. The people turned their pain into purpose. They rebuilt not only roads and schools but hearts and hope. And through it all, culture stood firm unchanged, unshaken.

Because Rwandan culture is not just tradition it is identity. It is pride. It is survival.

And so, when the drums begin to beat, when the horns rise high in the air, when the voices sing in harmony Rwanda is speaking. Not in words, but in spirit.

It is saying: “We are here. We remember. And we are proud.”