Staff Photographer
Once, Kenny Rogers was big in Kigali, but on a recent trip to the capital, Paula Akugizibwe discovers her hometown is rapidly catching up with 21st-century pop culture
It’s been a year since I moved from Kigali to Cape Town for a career opportunity. “So, what’s new?” I keep asking on my return to Rwanda’s capital. Eyes roll skyward and voices assume deliberate monotony, “nothing, of course”.
But that is never true. Here especially, in my country of origin that I experienced for the first time as an adult, but left before I could really understand, I am constantly tugged at by my curiosity about anything new.
The first 24-hour supermarket in town opened late last year, for example, forcing a number of upstanding citizens into unprecedented confrontations with disorderly twenty-somethings on a 3am post-party prowl for munchies. Oya! In this small, quiet capital of discipline and good behaviour, such public mischief has never been seen. Grey hairs have whitened, I’m sure.
What else is new? So much. The rapidly expanding economy breeds change and the small size and pace of Kigali makes change noticeable. The links to international banking are finally being made, there are new schools, new shops, new clubs and new roads where there were none before.
It’s a world away from cosmopolitan Cape Town where new developments are the norm — so much so that they sometimes coalesce into an impersonal, agitated blur of change for change’s sake. Though Cape Town gets plastic surgery every few weeks, Kigali is just getting the hang of make-up.
There is something incredibly exciting about this. It’s hard to describe. It’s a quiet kind of excitement because Kigali is not a particularly exciting place. It’s the unspoken thrill of a young velocity, the knowledge that there is much more to come on this steep gradient of change — for better or for worse.
We hope not for worse. As the mud-slinging between Rwanda and France intensifies, as evidence mounts to support allegations of Rwanda’s involvement in the eastern DRC conflict and donors pull out of the country, it’s hard to shake off a sense of foreboding despite Paul Kagame’s unwavering spirit of resilience. His tough talk raises the eyebrows of some and stirs sentiments of defiance and determination for others. In the end, though, spirit and sentiments aren’t worth much in hard currency — especially in a region with a tendency for implosive chaos.
And so I worry. But still, the daily exhibitions of growth give reason for hope right now. The 56% female majority in Parliament that was reached last year makes me proud. All the change evokes a pleasant sense of interest and yet a strange sense of my own loss — a quiet disappointment that I will miss out on so much by not being there. That I already have.
I feel this markedly in the several evenings I spend at Torero Café — Rwanda’s first arts café. When I left last January, Torero still existed largely in the head of my friend Daddy Ruhorahoza, an emerging self-taught Rwandan filmmaker with an aversion to all things conservative and conventional. One year later it has come to life in splendid fashion.
Tucked away, quite literally underground, in downtown Kigali, it is another symbol of an evolving society that previously had little time or space for arts and culture. Liberal, mellow, intellectual and diverse, it attracts a young crowd of similar characteristics.
Its offerings include some welcome novelties for Kigali entertainment establishments — quiz nights, a well-stocked bilingual bookshelf by the couches for those who would rather not get sucked into the boogie, themed parties, a small art gallery, free wireless internet, eclectic music and unusual cuisine — by Kigali standards, it is a cultural revolution in itself.
It’s the kind of revolution that I am most sad to miss — the kind that holds no drama, but subtly marks the opening of minds, broadening of perspectives, diversification and celebration of cultures. In some ways it’s the most important revolution of all.
Of course, the cultural revolution also comes in less subtle forms such as my younger siblings’ fall into the obscene global whirlpool of pop culture that is MTV addiction. Pop culture is gradually infiltrating Kigali as an inevitable consequence of economic development.
Sean Paul was in town recently courtesy of Rwandatel, one of the two national cellphone networks. Not to be outdone, MTN brought “Mr Boombastic” Shaggy to town the following weekend — and painted the entire national stadium yellow for the concert. Kigali’s not that keen on subtle.
What we once were very keen on, however, was Kenny Rogers. Completely culturally incongruous yet bizarrely loved by all, floating strains of Rogers have traditionally accompanied most visits to Kigali establishments. But with the advent of 21st-century pop culture, I return to find that this dubious tradition is gradually fading away. It makes me vaguely nostalgic. Poor Kenny. We were his last chance at a comeback.
Change, change, change. Sitting at Torero, sipping wine, we are young, interesting and interested. We’re full of ideas. We talk and talk for hours. Feminism, traditionalism, imports, exports, Kenny Rogers, Sean Paul, Afro-pessimism, Afro-optimism, revolution, football, 24-hour supermarkets, Bujumbura beaches, DRC, France, Germany, yellow stadiums, fabric markets, lakes, media freedom, charades, the past, the future, new places, new faces, change, change, change. Everything to lose and everything to gain. We can’t know which way it will go — but right here, right now, it feels good to be home.
Paula Akugizibwe was born in Nigeria to parents of Rwandan and Ugandan origin. She is now based in Cape Town, where she does TB and HIV training and advocacy work