‘Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, for no one but ourselves can free our mind’ – Bob Marley, Redemption Song.
‘If you don’t see the crazy person on the bus; then it’s you!’ Yesterday, for the first – and probably the last time, I went to Dinner en Blanc!
After one hour of sitting in an immobile bus waiting to be taken to the venue, I realised I was out of place. To try and reconcile with my conscience, I twitted my mea culpa: ‘It’s the story of Jacob and Esau: the latter trading his birthrights for a bowl of stew[1][1]; mine, is that of a corrupt and mad philosopher, trading his ideals for an afternoon with a charming crowd’; a friend replied: ‘stop the guilt and enjoy’:
So I tried to relax and focus on the nice young stranger sitting next to me. It worked; for a while, until the bus got on the move. First, we were paraded around town like tourists, in slow motion, so that every one could see. Passing through familiar neighborhoods was painful as people recognised and waved at us; But it got worse: The good people of Dinner en Blanc had decided to take the most ostentatious event of Kigali city to Batsinda – of all places!
The Batsinda people where peeping through barbed-wired fences, Mystified by this bunch of Aliens in White. ‘Aba se noneho bavuye he?’ – they seemed to wonder. They looked scared though: having finally settled here; away from the booming city, where they had been banished for being too poor, it looks like they will be packing again soon; ‘rich people are on to us!’ They want this place too: they are thinking it could be ideal for Dinners-en-Blancs; maybe some Golf, Tennis…
As we sat, the ambiance got surreal: between two pops of Champaign: the MC would announce, ‘hello, Al, where are you Al, table 15 need their Rosé and Cheese Al, that’s not cool Al…’ Unbelievable! In Batsinda? The poorest kingdoms have the richest kings – and princesses, I thought to myself…
As the night got underway, the kitschiest thing happened: A young man decided to propose to his fiancée amidst crowd cheers! Everyone looked genuinely happy. So I felt; maybe this is what they need; this is why these kids comeback home; because they know they can enjoy the same lifestyle they used to have in Paris. If we didn’t have Dinner-en-Blanc and the likes, they probably wouldn’t have comeback to live here.
I personally know some of these kids and their great contribution to the development of our country; some of them are real entrepreneurs; in fact, the event itself was well organised and many tables showed impressive imagination with their dressing themes. But why didn’t they organise this at the Manor Hotel, or in one of their gated communities? Why here; at the centre of Batsinda – where no one can afford a seat?
Sadly, like every ‘expatriate’, they are not in touch with the social dynamics of our country – or they choose to ignore them. In other words, they haven’t really come back; they are still in their bubble…
Maybe it was good for me to go after all; so I could witness for myself, I could see a decadent society. This, is not going to last; this is not proper of Rwandans; s’uku duteye… I don’t expect every Rwandan youth to be a puritan; but I wish they could be respectful, generous and compassionate. In the communist party of China, the grooming of future leaders involves sending them to remote, humble areas of the country to live a peasant life. The idea is to ensure that when they reach the opulence of power, they do not forget who the real people are. It looks like the Rwandan Ingandos are not doing enough…
My lowest moment was the sight of excited Batsinda kids on the roadside, which reminded me of many stories of ‘whites only’ Buses: I remembered the whites only buses in apartheid South Africa; but I also remembered Rosa Parks resisting segregation in a ‘whites in front’ bus in Montgomery; I almost cried because this time: I was the white on the bus. Oh God I am sorry; for being on the wrong side of the bus; on the wrong side of the barbed-wire…
Since I came back to Rwanda, I have been thanking God every morning for being here; I always was convinced that there was something special about the Rwandan people. This morning, I am not so sure anymore…
The only highlight of the event was Mike Kayihura and his Piano – the only thing that we shared with the Batsinda people. That kid’s magic voice knows no class, no barbed-wires, nor bus…
Posted 11th August 2014
[1]Genesis 25