A journalist’s humble abode should be situated very close to the neighborhood Papeterie.  This is so as to facilitate easy access to vital tools of the trade like … scrap books, note pads, camera batteries, pens …you name it. 

A journo should rent near a small grocery shop with the magic inscriptions; Amata na fanta bikonje. In times like these, of searing heat, dust storms and dry, malicious currents, no words offer such solace and hope and assurance as those three magic words inscribed in playful fonts and splashed across the walls of the corner boutique. 

The hotness of the weather aside, Amata na fanta bikonje comes in handy for scribes, because most journos are not known to shy away from inzoga. 

A journalist worth their salt should not reside in cold, mean and impersonal neighborhoods like Nyarutarama and Kibagabaga estate and in Kiyovu of the rich. This is because in these cold and mean and impersonal places, it is next to impossible to scrap around for news. Also, staying in Nyarutarama and Kiyovu of the rich presents a few logistical problems for a scribe, in that where will you get a motor taxi –something I believe is the best mode of travel for a news hound? 

This is why it is highly recommended that a journalist rents out a ghetto in places like Nyabugogo, Nyamirambo, Muhima, Kicukiro, and Sonatubes, where the motor taxi chaps allegedly never go to sleep. 

That said, a munyamakuru should not sweat and slug it out in the teeming mass of humanity that usually characterizes market places like Nyabugogo, Kimironko and Kimisagara, all in the name of buying cheap Polo and T-shirts. How can I buy Polo shirts on my meager journalist’s pay, when Imbuto Foundion and Bridge2Rwanda and Kwita Izina can extend me the best in designer Polo-shirt trends, at no cost whatsoever? 

However humble a journo’s ghetto is, it should have the luxury of a rear exit …just in case, because the business of writing articles usually goes hand-in-hand with stepping on, and bruising a few toes and fingers and egos. 

A real scribe should never be seen buying glasses, of all things, for home use. On the contrary, a journalist’s kitchen and dining table should be littered with all sorts of beer-branded mugs and tumblers and serving trays, even bottle openers. 

I have been to a few writers’ homes and the Mutzig and Skol and Primus-branded beer glasses in their kitchens looked better than the tacky ones people always rush to buy at the neighborhood alimentation. 

There are two possible explanations to this scenario:  Either the journos are tight buddies with the managers and top shots at Bralirwa and Skol, or they just gate-crash every beer event they chance upon and, after downing one too many Mutzigs and Skols, simply walk away with the used glasses.