Red Rocks is like that tiny microbe they taught us about in Science class back in primary school: Amoeba.

Remember how the teacher would say that the Amoeba was "shapeless” or "does not have a definite shape” and get the whole class baffled?

That "lack of a definite shape” is one of the first vivid impressions one gets when they set foot at Red Rocks, a campsite and cultural exchange center in Musanze, Northern Province. 

That’s right: Red Rocks is primarily a camping facility for those who prefer the rustic experience of clearing bush, pitching a tent in the wild and generally living the twilight life of the outdoors as opposed to five-star comforts.  

The extremely remote location in Nyakinama village, 7km outside of Musanze, almost totally rules it out as a camping or tour destination for any traveler. Yet Red Rocks entertains bands of tourists, ranging from medium to large.

My stopover at the facility late Tuesday afternoon coincided with the presence of a fairly large group of tourists -21 in total, from Quebec, Canada. Their stop over was part of the tail end of a two week-long itinerary, and early the following day, they were headed to Gisenyi, further north.

Emrick, one of the first members of the group I talked to told me he was here because he was tired of what he termed "white glove tourism in five-star hotels.” He wanted his experience a little more rustic and unscripted.

In a way, Red Rocks operates much like a military facility, which in war time is abuzz with human activity, while in peace time, it goes into hibernation and lies low.

In the same way, Red Rocks dramatically springs to life when there is business –that is –a group of tourists, like the group I found.

I had the privilege of arriving ahead of the group, so I bore witness to the entire scenario as things fell into place.

What happens is that Greg Bakunzi, the man who runs the facility with a cluster of helping hands, is a hands-on man. That Tuesday afternoon, he descended with his motley gang of workers to get the place all set for the evening.

Everybody went to work; the gardeners trimming hedges and clearing walkways, the electricians wiring up the place, the resident artiste got hold of his paint brush, while the tent pitchers also set about their tasks. 

There is a main club house that houses a few dormitory-style guest facilities, although for this particular group, majority would be opting for the tents.

As the workmen spruced up the place, I found the time to wander aimlessly about the facility, if only to update myself with any new developments since my last visit late last year.

The first thing I noticed is that, to juxtapose this virgin-looking tropical setting, an ambitious construction project has sprung up right opposite the main entrance to Red Rocks. I was told it’s the Chinese putting up a university of technology, and as I marveled at the sheer expanse of the project, I wondered if this would be a good or bad development for Red Rocks, known for its aura of tranquility, exclusivity, and detachment from material comforts.

Greg, the Red Rocks proprietor was confident that the university would be good for business, owing to the anticipated influx of students looking for a quick bite or refreshment.

One thing we can be sure of for now is that the all-familiar and enticing air of exclusivity, the out-of-this-world experience that is so synonymous with Red Rocks could suffer a serious blow once a booming university town springs up here later this year. 

Greg’s strategy seems to be simple and well-thought out: "We are moving away from simply exhibiting local products to live experiences,” he told me. In that regard, he has created a unique itinerary for guests that includes, among others; participatory banana beer making experiences, village walks, wooden bike rides, food testing and farm excursions.

Greg’s clientele of touring Canadians soon made it known to me that what they were looking forward to later in the evening was something they were hearing about for the first time, a theme event dubbed "bush dinner”, that had been sold to them on their tour itinerary.

It appears that the management wanted to preserve an element of surprise about the said bush dinner, as the tourists kept asking questions. While some wanted to know if the "bush dinner” would be a night of digging into wild game meat from the Volcanoes National Park, others simply resigned to their fate and went sunbathing as they waited for the appointed time.  

As the evening wore on, young men begun to commandeer furniture from the dining hall, taking it further down to the sprawling forested area.

Bush dinner

Primarily, this was the mystery event for which these tourists had made a stopover at the Red Rocks. They would only retire to their tents after this strangely named dinner, and all evening, it was quite obvious many of them could not wait.

The bush dinner was to kick off at 7:30 pm, inside an open-wall wooden enclave named the Stone Rock Club and African Resta.

It is a high-roof structure built on roughly cut timbers, with lots of decorative art pieces, wood carvings and paintings dangling from the roof while others hang off the wall posts. 

This rudimentary facility is basically just a roof over diners, with open walls ensuring that the view to the outlying thick natural vegetative cover is completely uninterrupted.

What happens is that the entire Red Rocks kitchen is exported to the outdoors, where the entire cooking process takes place, in full view of everybody. The cooking is in such a way that anyone is free to join in and discover how maize meal or bugali is prepared, for instance.

As we waited for dinner, the resident DJ went to work, setting up the sound system and treating us to some preliminary skanking reggae tunes to ease the mood further. A projector too was mounted, on which some local wildlife documentaries played back-to-back.

What came as a perfect icing on this idyllic moonlight setting was the lighting of a huge bon fire, which brought color, warmth and an intimate feel to the evening.

The aroma from the cooking pots mounted on huge charcoal stoves would soon waft into the crowd, and before long, a queue had formed ahead of the dining set. The food was local Rwandan food as we know it, prepared home-style: chicken, green vegetables, beef, beans, local stews, chips, maize meal, sweet potatoes …that kind of thing.

It was obvious that most of the tourists were encountering some of these foods for the very first time, but somehow, the communal feel seemed to provide the perfect anchor for them to sample the unknown. 

The ever quick-footed kitchen staff were at hand to guide and offer recommendations. Soon, the clutter of plates and cutlery gave way to the collective giggles and laughter that followed the discovery of a new dish here or the hotness of the local akabanga chilli sauce at another table.  

The bush dinner was a guest/staff affair, and because of this, it soon eased into a wild moonlight party. While most of the guests huddled close to each other in the dining structure, a few adventurous ones walked to a distance and sat down to a quiet meal with one of the staff.

Dinner closed shortly after 9:00 pm, and the floor was opened to a freestyle music and dance session. The same employees that had rigged the dinner set simply got hold of their music equipment and cultural regalia and erupted onto the improvised stage. The singing was done jam session style, with any one free to join in or improvise a verse.

When the session for the popular Intore cultural dance was announced, the roof nearly came down from the wild ululations that followed. Suddenly, every one of the group wanted to get themselves dressed in Intore regalia, so naturally there was a bit of jostling for the few ceremonial spears, head and hand gear, and beads that were at hand.

At this point, there was no longer anybody appointed to a particular role, as patrons simultaneously tried a hand at drumming, singing, screaming, yelling, dancing …you name it.

This particular group was comprised largely of the middle aged and few senior citizens, so there was not a lot of "sparks” flying about as the music and booze and party atmosphere begun to take their toll.

Once Luce Viens, the head of the group decided to dish out big hugs and smiles at everyone while thanking them for the evening, the writing was clearly on the wall: the party had served its purpose and the curtains now had to be drawn.  

By 2:00 am, the only beings left at the bush dinner venue were the Red Rocks staff, feasting on the huge cache of drinks that their guests had largely shied away from.