You know when someone asks, “Are we still meeting up at 2pm, or ni iby'Abanyarwanda (the usual Rwandan way)?”—trust me, they’re not handing out compliments. It’s their way of wondering, are we sticking to the plan, or will we, like the proud Rwandans we are, roll in fashionably late, as always? Now, while punctuality is definitely a topic worth unpacking someday, today's focus is on something else—Customer Care. With this week being Customer Service Week, there couldn’t be a better time to talk about this. When customer service goes south, it’s often brushed off as iby'Abanyarwanda—a characteristic of the people. As Rwandans, we’re known for many things, but must one of those be a lack of friendliness and professionalism in service? I’d love to answer that with a resounding no, especially since we’re establishing ourselves as a prime MICE (Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions) destination. This means a lot of what we do revolves around interacting with people, delivering services, and—whether we like it or not—we’re being judged on how well we do it! But before we get into roasting ourselves, let’s recognize how high the stakes are. The services sector is Rwanda’s biggest contributor to GDP, making up about 47-50% of the economy. It covers everything from banking and finance to tourism, ICT, transport and trade. And even outside the big industries, you can’t escape service interactions. Sure, Rwanda’s service economy is largely boosted by tourism, but it’s not just for the visitors. We locals rely on it too, whether it's getting government services like healthcare and education or enjoying the convenience of telecommunications, banking and retail. But here’s the kicker—we’ve all been there. You wake up at the crack of dawn, rush to the nearest district office for something important, like an ID or land registration, and after standing in line for ages under the blazing sun, you finally get to the counter. And that’s when you meet a mean worker. They’ll treat you like a nuisance, send you off to fetch documents they could have easily helped with, and just when you think you're almost done, they decide it’s lunchtime, and disappear for some time while you’re left wondering if to wait or just leave. When you ask someone else for help, they shrug and say, “sorry, that’s just how she is.” Then you wait, bond with the others in line, complain about your shared misery, and finally, after what feels like a lifetime, they’re back. Now, they’ll scan your papers, tell you the person who needs to sign is “in a meeting” and, you guessed it, ask you to come back tomorrow. Defeated, you head home and take a nap. Or else make an angry tweet about it on X. Or take this: I recently had a run-in while collecting my passport after a visa rejection. The person at the desk treated me like I was interrupting her day. No eye contact, barely a greeting. She told me to print a copy of my ID, something she could’ve easily handled since, you know, there’s a printer right there. But no, I had to go hunting for a printing shop. And when I got back, she suddenly had an urgent errand that kept her behind a mysterious closed door for ten minutes. Not that I was counting, because, obviously, my time isn’t as precious as hers, right? Eventually, someone else stepped in and sorted me out. When she returned, she barely acknowledged me with a “That’s it.” And the infamous “pretty privilege.” We’ve all heard stories of people breezing through procedures just because they’re, well, easy on the eyes or happen to be famous. Then there’s the social status perks—rich or influential? Well, then, customer care just magically improves. Is this really how we want to be known? As a country where time isn’t respected, and where common courtesy in customer service feels like a rare treat rather than a standard? A place where people brace themselves for indifferent attitudes at service counters, or worse, where they dread having to ask for a little help, knowing they might just get a cold shoulder in return? It’s not just about how long someone waits in a queue or whether a smile is flashed—it’s about creating a culture of respect and empathy, where people feel like they matter, not just as customers but as human beings. Because at the end of the day, good customer service isn’t just a nice-to-have; it’s the backbone of a thriving economy, a marker of a community that respects its own. It's the difference between a frustrated sigh and a glowing recommendation. Imagine a Rwanda where every interaction leaves people feeling valued, where “iby'Abanyarwanda” is redefined to mean reliability, warmth, and genuine care. Picture a place where every person, local or tourist, walks away from a service with a smile—because they were treated right, not because they got lucky. We’re already halfway there. We’re known for our hospitality towards visitors, for being that peaceful, welcoming country with breathtaking landscapes and the friendliest people. But why not extend that same energy to ourselves, too? Let’s make it so that when you step into a government office or a bank or any service point, you know you’ll be treated with respect, whether you're a famous person or someone ordinary. As Maya Angelou puts it, “People will forget what you do, they’ll forget what you said, but they’ll never forget how you made them feel.” Maybe that sounds a bit exaggerated, but in the world of customer service, it’s a hard truth. It’s not just about that one bad experience; it’s about how that experience gets magnified into a reputation. We may forget individual encounters, but we often generalise and say, “That’s just how they are—cold, indifferent.” And that perception becomes the label we wear, both as a business and as a people. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad out there. I’ve had moments where the person on the other side of the counter goes above and beyond, where their kindness surprises me, and I leave feeling like I matter. Those moments are like little gems, reminding me that we have the potential to do better. But wouldn’t it be great if those weren’t just moments but the norm? We’re a nation that’s constantly evolving, building a reputation on the global stage as a place of growth, innovation, and progress. Customer care isn’t just a small part of that—it’s the face we present to the world. So, let’s step it up. Let’s make sure that when someone asks, “Or ni iby'Abanyarwanda?” it’s no longer a sarcastic jab but a joke from a bygone era. Let me share something from a book I recently read, Unreasonable Hospitality. The author makes a striking point: “Service is black and white, hospitality is color.” The black and white means you’re doing your job—competently, efficiently. But the color? That’s when you make people feel valued, appreciated, and even a little delighted by the interaction. And honestly, I couldn’t agree more. We can’t just tick the boxes and call it a day; we need to be mindful of how we deliver that service—whether we’re a small shop or a big government office, an emerging MICE destination, or a local café. As an economy, as a country, as a people, it’s time we add some color to our customer care. Let this Customer Service Week be a chance to look inward. Let’s invite customers to point out where we fall short—without fear of backlash—and when they do, let’s actually listen and make things right. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll get to a point where the phrase “ni iby'Abanyarwanda” will mean something else entirely—something that makes us proud. The writer is a socio-political commentator.
