We came for the bees at dawn.
To be honest, they didn't seem to care all that much. Perhaps we didn't look all that threatening of a foe, what with me all trembling and the pair of us huddled under the protection of a head scarf and mosquito netting with ominous holes here and there.
When I imagined bee keeping in Rwanda, I had rather stupidly pictured myself adorned in a cute white beekeepers’ uniform, posing and smiling smugly on Facebook. In the way it tends to go, the reality did not quite match the fantasy. In rural Rwanda, there are no cute beekeeping costumes. There are no prefabricated hives. No, no, no. This is some real authentic beekeeping. As in, the bees don't even know they're being kept. Because they aren’t.