Virgil’s Town

(This story was commissioned by the East African (Travel Supplement). The premier regional  paper finally printed  it as .... Through the Eyes of a Community Leader & Bar Owner ... but they were short of space so they cut out all the good bits. This is the raw version.)

Early on a slightly drizzly Friday evening, Virgil Rugema stands near the little bar at the pool table end of club Passadena in the Gikondo suburb of Kigali, drinking Amstel beer from a short glass. So engrossed is he on the action at the pool table he seems totally oblivious of the contortionist movements of the dancers and singers entertaining patrons in the main club area behind him.

Nothing about the beady eyed average sized, casually dressed man in designer jeans and striped shirt tails suggests his prominence in any way; and only the reverence with which the club employees occasionally consult him seems to suggest he may be relevant in some way. Still, to a stranger, nothing distinguishes him as the owner of the club, another establishment out of town, and the adoration of millions of Rwandans (and northern Burundians) who listen to his nationally transmitted radio shows.

“He was the first man to open a club in this town,” Uncle Austin, MC, presenter at Radio 10 – where Virgil also works, says in an awed half whisper. “The club was in the city centre just below the main round about with the fountain and was closed because the authorities said it was attractive to school boys…. Later he opened this club and it became famous as Kwa Virigil, the only club where you can learn and dance salsa. Now there are copy cat Salsa places all over the town… that’s Kigali for you.”

            Virgil does not mention the first club, even a few days later when we pass the main round-about with the fountain on our way to the Ecole Belge (Belgian school) to pick up his lovely pre-teen daughter (his other daughter doesn’t do afternoon school today).

His is the story of a town he has deep roots in and even closer ties to; a town in which he employs over a hundred people, solves “the problems of my people” and entertains with “jokes and music on radio and fun, food and drinks at my clubs.”

He understands the brief; this is not about him. He explains though, that Club Passadena, like many other things in this town, has a personal connection to the genocide.

            “The place in Gikondo,” he says a few days later “used to be my brother’s house. He and his family were killed there and their house destroyed,” he goes on with a brave but sad smile. “Just a month before, he had just come from Pasadena in California, US. I built the club on the ruins of his house, so that people can meet there and have a drink, watch a show or even enjoy a massage or sauna all in the memory of my brother, the person who taught me to appreciate music when I was small; he was the only person in the neighbourhood who had a turntable. I named the club Passadena. The double S being my only addition to the name of the city he had come from.”      

            ******

It is early Saturday morning, the last of the month and Virgil Rugema starts the day by participating in the muganda, the once-a-month communal clean-up-your-neighbourhood exercise that’s one of the reasons Kigali is so clean. We’re in his neighbourhood of Kanombe, a far out of the city suburb near the Kigali International Airport, where he lives with his wife and two daughters. It has been a week of heavy rains and so the work today involves correcting the destruction the rain has left in its wake.

As he shovels sandy soil out of drains, rights leaning plants and spears dead leaves off the lawns, he seems a completely different Virgil from the one of the night before. People still seem to consult him a lot and he tends to lead the discussion at the closing.

“I am the leader of our Mudugudu in Kanombe,” he explains as we drive in his classic Toyota Land Cruiser GX to his next function at Remera Kiporosso, just a few kilometres down the road.  Mudugudu is what replaced Nyumba Kumi in the hierarchy of Rwandan local government. It’s administrative unit consisting of 30 to 50 houses. Several mudugudus make an Umurenge and a few umurenges make a Sector. “Kigali is made up of 3 sectors, namely Nyarugenge, Kicukiro, and Gasabo,” Virgil concludes the civic lesson as we arrive.

            Today, all the sectors are launching the new buildings recently erected to accommodate the nine year basic education system in all Rwanda. The function turns out to be a great gathering of people with all sector officials present. Virgil is the Emcee, a job he performs remarkably well in Kinyarwanda and French.

‘I am an emcee by profession,” explains the former Health Communication Consultant for PSI and UNICEF when I ask him how much he’s getting paid to do the job, “but this is not a job. It is my personal contribution to the community.”

*******

            Monday pm, we are in the Tele Dix (Radio 10) studios on the 4^th floor of the Tele Dix building, about four kilometres down the road from Kiporoso, at the turn off to Nyarutarama, the posh residential area of ambassadors and rich people.

Virgil is the “Lundiose Doctor” – lundiose being some kind of Monday hangover that he cures with a two hours dose of slow French music and chit chat in Kinyarwanda and French. His other shows include déjà vu 80s music programme on Fridays and a Vox Pop programme called Hanzaha (Around Us) on Sundays.

“Once in a while,” he says as he scrolls down his laptop to select the next song, “when people bring a dispute to me as mudugudu leader and fail to agree, I just record them and, with their consent, I air their problem and have listeners call in to suggest solutions. And it works!”

 “I can’t possibly live anywhere else but Kigali even though I hold two passports,” he says earnestly, “I’ll give you an example: If I walk out of my house alone with some money and I want to go out to a pub for a drink, I will always find someone to drink with in Kigali. Not so in other countries I’ve been to. I like the TURI KUMWE attitude of Rwandans. That’s why I run clubs, I could have got into any other business and made more money, but I stick to clubs…”

And does he make a lot of amafaranga as a radio DJ?

“The DJ at Passadena earns more money than me,” he says with a self effacing laugh. 

***

On Wednesdays after his shows, Virgil hops on his bicycle and, using panya routes, rides 20 km out of the city and back. Sometimes he rides 40 km out to Bugesera where he was born 47 years ago. Bugesera is also the unusually flat area beyond Lake Muhanzi and across the Akagera River, where a lot of people were slaughtered during the genocide in 94. There is a genocide memorial there, a small shopping centre, and, right next to the principal road, Virgil’s new club, Le Chantier, which is French for Under Construction.

“So far,” Virgil tells me as we drive out to the club right after the Landiose show, “only the bar, the kitchen and roast places, the children’s swings and the band stand are ready. But every weekend, the place is packed to capacity as people from Kigali flock here with their families. They sit at tables laid out on the grass and enjoy an afternoon away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Yes, they love the live band.”

Will the name change when the construction is finished?

“We’ll see,” he looks doubtful. “Fourteen hectares is a big area to finish construction on. There is still the pool, the sauna and massage places, accommodation and bigger play areas to do…”

As we drive back into Kigali, Virgil’s town, I can’t help seeing a metaphor of it in Virgil’s new club. Like Le Chantier, the city is fully functional and teeming with life; yet it is still massively le chantier.  ENDS.

© Lloyd Igane 2010     kreative@earthling.net

Where to eat a what in Kigali city

(This story was commissioned by the East African (Travel Supplement). The premier regional  paper finally published published it as Eating Out in the Land of a Thousand Brochettes but they were short of space so they cut out all the good bits. This is the raw version.)

Like in any other city the cost a cup of tea or a snack depends entirely on where one takes it.  A cup of tea at Chez John in downtown Kigali wont cost the same as a cup of tea at the Kigali Serena, One of the best ways to judge the cost of food is by following the cost of a traditional Rwandan Buffet and the cost of Rwanda’s favourite delicacy, inherited from the Belgians, no doubt, the brochette.

“Every meal has beans in it” – a new Kenyan in Kigali

Almost every eatery in Kigali offers buffet style dining. The offerings, always in covered, shiny silver warmers, vary with establishments but include white rice, coloured rice, pilau, fried and boiled bananas, peas, beans, boiled cassava, chicken, beef (fried with oil or fried without), ugali, salads, cassava leaves, cassava ugali (aka kaunga), groundnut soup, and fruit – usually a ripe banana or a tree tomato.

The cost of the buffet per person ranges from as little as little as 900 Rwf at the Rwasco Staff canteen, stabilising at 1200 to 1500 in most downtown eateries and the many “restos” of the cities. At classier establishments like the food court outside Nakumatt, the buffet comes at around 2,000 Rwf. Jus a stone’s throw up the hill, it is 2,500 Rwf at the Blues Café (powered by wifi). There are other establishment however where the buffet costs 3000 Rwf (5USD) or even 4000 Rwf (6.8 USD) at the spectacularly appointed City Valley restaurant tacked a little off the baten path, in Nyabugo, not far from the Nyabugogo cross-border bus terminus..

The hotels have their own buffets too and the cost of a plate ranges from 1500 Rwf at the Isimbi Hotel to 4,500 Rwf  (7 USD) at the Impala They also offer the luxury of a la carte, especially for the foreign guests who are not as fond of the buffet as Rwandans are.

A restaurant called Happy Rwanda offers the best Italian buffet in the city centre for as little as 3500 rwf (6 USD), just like the African buffet at most upper class establishments in the suburbs..

“Welcome to Heaven” – An usher at the entrance of Heaven, a posh restaurant in Kyovu

Few places in town offer a la carte menus. Besides serving the best coffee in Kigali (powered by wifi) Bourbon Coffee also serves juicy burgers, and cakes and sandwitches accompanied by chips. They are situated in the same building as Nakumatt (UTC), MTN Centre in Nyarutarama, and the airport. The food court at UTC building also serves chips and chicken, tea, coffee and sodas besides their Rwandan buffet; so does The Blues Café next door and Simba Restaurant just up the hill in the CogeBanque Building.

An excellent a la carte menu is to be had at Heaven Restaurant in Kyovu, just a few hundred yards from the Central Bank buildings. But the business you take there had rather be worth the price of the meal. Heaven is reassuringly expensive. Down the same road is Republika, an enchantingly pan African setting with a Rwandan slant. The food is great, the prices accommodating.

“If I see another brochette am going to commit ritual suicide on a stake,” anonymous tourist

There are no fast food places in Kigali to speak of. It is possible though, after a long walk, to find an obscure all-yellow kiosk-like food place near BCK Supermarket that makes a decent special omelette. Consisting of eggs fried with onions and tomatoes and chips, it comes in 5 minutes flat and costs 700 Rwf (1.2USD). A few bar and restaurant establishments such as Chez Venant in the city centre also serve this (not quite uniquely) Kigalian delicacy – but not in five minutes, and not at that price.

            Kigali’s and Rwanda’s official snack however, is most decidedly the ubiquitous brochette – bits of goat meat, or chicken or liver or fish alternated with fried onion and tomato and roasted on a stick. They can be eaten with roasted potatoes or chips or or baked bananas or just enjoyed on there own, and cost anywhere between 300 Rwf to 200 Rwf per stick, depending on the vendor. Every establishment with a Kitchen or just a charcoal burner will whip up these delicacies in the fastest time any food can be served in a Kigali establishment – except of course the aforementioned special omelette.

“This goat does not taste like ours” – a Kenyan customer at Car Wash

There are goat roasting places in Kigali but most are not near the city centre and certainly not as advanced as Kenya’s Carnivore or, on the other end of the scale, Kwa Njuguna or Kia Michael in Nairobi.

But there are two places that a Kenyan who can’t wait another day for the usual Nyamchom and mukimo or Ugali or even chips. One is the place called Little Kenya or Car Wash, and the other, a relatively new establishment in Kichukiro called La Place Kagarama, Both places serve –beside the regular brochette and Kinyarwanda buffet, a regular helping of goat ribs or leg for anything between 4000 Rwf (almost 7USD) and 10,000 Rwf (17 USD) depending on the size of the helping. Accompaniments cost extra. These Kenyan joints even serve Kenyan beer and occasionally include chapatti and real ugali in their buffet lunches.

Alimentations and supermarkets

Huge shopping malls and supermarkets are just now making their slow and sure  way into the Kigalian’s shopping conscience. Every neighbourhood has a little shop that sells all sorts of household needs and has a few stools that people can sit on and drink Prinus, Miitzig and Amstel beer at recommended retail prices. At the busier shopping centres like Remera, Nyamirambo, Gikondo and Kimironko, one can find mini supermarkets. The big new entrants, the Kenyan Nakumatt and the Rwandan Simba Supermarkets are the main supermarkets in the city centre. They can not be said to be in real competition because whereas Simba is famous for value, Nakumatt is known for variety and convenience – it is still the only 24 hour supermarket, in this aspect, equal only to the alimentations of a 24/7 section of Nyamirambo called Mirongo Ine.

The Chinese Supermarket T De Mille (T 2000) offers both variety and value, but not as high quality as the bigger two.

“That is expensive, it comes from Kenya,” – a Kigali clothes vendor

Most Kenyans in Kigali kick themselves when they want to buy something they forgot to buy in Kenya ornly to be told it costs more in Kigali. These include things like apparel, accessories, shoes, etc.

Generally, life is more expensive in Kigali than in Nairobi. We couldn’t understand what Kenyas were complaining about when the price of unga hit 120 Kenya shillings. Around the same time, the Kenya shilling equivalent of the same packet of Unga at Nakumatt, was about 185/-!

      

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The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to Chinyarwanda

The word for NO in Kinyarwanda can be very frustrating. You will be sitting there thinking the person you were talking with just doubted what you said and requires convincing, only to see him/her do the complete opposite of what you thought he or she just doubted you about. For the word, always pronounced in a rather laid-back and completely un-antagonistic tone to rhyme with “oh yeah?” in spoken English, is Oyaaa.

Oyaa also happens to be the response you get from most Rwandans when you propose an idea they find radically different from what they are used to. Trouble is they never tell it to you in the face. They will repeatedly tell you “Give me a call and we’ll sit down and discuss the matter” then promptly prove to be too busy to find time to “sit down” every time you call. And if you persistently fail to get a clue and doggedly continue calling, they find various reasons not to pick your call.

Not that Rwandans are much different from much of the human race in this aspect; just that they have perfected it into an art form.

In fact linguistically alone, there are many ways in which Rwandans are similar to other Bantus in the region, who will, after a while, discover Kinyaru words/ phrases that are not only phonetically but also syntactically similar to their own.

Never mind that your first encounter with Kinyarwanda will always sound like an interminable series of incomprehensible “ch” sounds followed by a few syllables and further “ch” sounds. After a while, start to recognise certain words/phrases from back home: For me, these included garura, meaning turn around, or change; Turi kumwe, meaning we are together/ we are one/ we understand one another; magana atanu for five hundred; neza for nice/good and mirongo ine, mirongo itanu, for forty and fifty respectively. Kinyarwanda’s meza however does not mean table as it does in Swahili, but is, like neza, a derivative good/nice/ sawa.

Having gone that far, the myamahanga (person from outside) may, or may not realise the significance of the aforementioned CH sounds and how many more words the Kinyarwanda speaker alienates by simply interchanging the CH sound for the K sound. So Kenya becomes Chenya, Kiswahili – Chiswahili, Kigali – Chigali, and Kinyarwanda, well, becomes Chinyarwanda.

In fact one soon realises that most Kinyarwanda words that mean the same as other Bantu words, even when spelt the same, are pronounced differently: igana for a hundred becomes ijana. Murugi, a girl’s name (yes, they have that too) becomes Muruji, and names of places like Gisenyi and Gikondo, are pronounced as Jisenyi and Jikondo respectively. As you scratch your head wondering why Magana does not become majana, a sympathetic Mnyarwanda may cut a long story short by patiently explaining that being Francophone, they have a different set of sounds from other Bantus.

Ahem.

The intrepid mnyamahanga very quickly realises that the only way to really know the language of the hills is to learn every word by ear, which could take for ever and/or total assimilation; and that the safest response to the suggestion “You must know Chinyarwanda by now” is, most advisedly, “Oh yeah?”

531 words

© Lloyd Igane 2010     kreative@earthling.net