RWANDA — A THOUSAND HILLSv6

[Intro] Dedicated to my friend, the future officer from the African Republic of Rwanda — N'dori Evariste. (Inanga solo, soft ambient: wind in the grass on the slope, a distant bell. Ikembe barely audible. Pause. A young, calm voice, whispering.) [Verse 1] A thousand hills — every step is remembered. The red earth on their slopes, The road that winds and disappears into the fog. I remember it all… Every bend of the path, And every stone. It's like the hills are holding my hand, Leading me to where home is, Where my family waits. And the morning here doesn't rush… It yawns gently before the dawn. The sun embraces each slope in turn, Softly, like a mother does, one by one. I remember that light — it's warm, it's mine. Now I see this sunrise in my dreams. [Pre-Chorus] The air is thin and clean — Not city dust, Not a stranger's wind. Here it smells of eucalyptus, Of wet earth after the rain, And of bread… If Mama bakes i t Early in the morning. I carry this scent with me — In my pocket, inside my heart. Like the quietest reminder: "Nti uwiteka w'igihugu" — you're not alone. You know the way. [Chorus] (Inanga wider, umvirongi in the distance, ingoma soft) A thousand hills — you hold me. In every book, on every page, In every word I learn — There's home. There's Mama. There's my father's path. This is not just memory. This is a promise. Uraho, Rwanda — ukomeze. [Verse 2] My father was a soldier. He was proud of his homeland, and he taught me that pride. He told me: "To be a soldier — it sounds proud!" He did so much for the country, He grieved and suffered, loving his Fatherland. But time moved on, and his earthly path ended. I was still a teenager, but I understood it all, What it means — "Dad is gone." I remembered. I knew for sure: I will be a soldier too. And I told myself: If my father is not here, Then I must be. Not instead of him — But to carry on his way. [Pre-Chorus] Now I'm here — In a foreign land, at the desk, With textbooks as tall as I am. Each page is a step Up the hill That leads back home. These words don't feel warm. But I know: behind them are lives. Behind them is my people. Back on the hills, they're waiting for me. [Chorus] (Inanga wider, umvirongi closer, ingoma firmer, voice stronger) A thousand hills — you hold me. In every book, on every page, In every word I learn — There's home. There's Mama. There's my father's path. This is not just memory. This is a promise. Uraho, Rwanda — ukomeze. [Bridge] (Only inanga and ikembe. Beat fades. Voice quiet, almost a whisper — like a traditional fireside song.) At home, they're waiting for me. Mama. She doesn't say "I miss you." She says: "Study." Because she knows — If I come home now, I'll stay. And I can't stay. I need to finish what I started. Knowledge comes first. Not because I'm cold. But because if I don't finish my training, I won't be able to help anyone. Because back home, everyone believes in me. "Ndatindiye, Mama — nzahita ngaruka." [Verse 3] Do you know what I see When I close my eyes? Not the parade ground, not the barracks, not the weapons. I see my homeland. My beloved Rwanda. A calm and strong country, Where children run across the slopes — And they're not afraid. Where mothers sleep peacefully. Where a warrior is a symbol of peace. I'm learning the science of war. I dream of serving my country, Just like my father did. I believe in this. As I believed in my father. As I believe in the thousand hills That believe in me too! [Chorus] (Inanga, umvirongi, ingoma, guitar — all together. Voice with strength.) A thousand hills — you hold me. In every book, on every page, In every word I learn — There's home. There's Mama. There's my father's path. This is not just memory. This is a promise. Uraho, Rwanda — ukomeze. [Outro] (Beat fades. Inanga repeats one quiet motif. Ikembe soft. Wind on the slope. Quiet voice.) A thousand hills… Mama… I'll finish my studies. And I'll come back. I'll be like Papa — An officer. I'll serve my homeland. Papa, you're not just a memory. You're the path. Uraho, Baba. (Silence. One note of inanga. Pause. End.)