Fiction: A New Life in Kigali (Cot’d)

Kyeto was perturbed by this branding of people francophone or Anglophone, after all these are just two foreign languages, which have no particular bearing on Banyarwanda people. That night he told Angela, he had attended a late night meeting with his boss about work and conveniently forgot to mention about Michelle, the boss’ niece. Angela and Kyeto’s new life together had at first carried a certain abashment behind the scenes. People looked at them as they walked every Sunday afternoon around the town like two silent strangers living out a secret pact to rid each other of bad dreams. They walked to Nyabugogo market to buy dodo which reminded them of Kenya, and big ripe bananas which going by the looks were enough to nourish a human through the eyes. They took the lazy walks oblivious of the temperamental weather that frequently let loose tones of rain down onto them. That is only when they ran around like scared chicken looking for the shed that didn’t exist and lived out their second fish-in-the-water scene; human feelings unobstructed by individual histories of sadness, playing out like the enthusiastic excitement in children keen to take a playful bath in the fresh soil smell of unpolluted un-grassed land patches, the chilly freshness of rain water. Kyeto continued to excel at his workplace so that in a few weeks, the accounting was a trifle too little for him to accomplish in a normal eight hour day. Mr. Umuneza was content with offering a few more administrative duties together with a small increase in salary. Kyeto was grateful and occasionally met Michelle for lunches and coffee at Bourbon coffee because he could really afford. Besides, Angela thought such things as waste of funds and preferred to cook a good traditional meal on a charcoal stove, to draw out its full natural taste, as a perfect treat for Kyeto. On occasion, to his chagrin Angela had spit out a mouthful of cassava leaves coated in mayonnaise in a restaurant and labelled it ‘rubbish.’ Michelle became fond of Kyeto not the way one becomes fond of a secret lover, but like the way you would want to be visiting your paternal uncle all the time. She found his stoic dullness attractive and did not experience blood rushing in her veins whenever she talked to him. Instead, she felt safe being around him. It surprised her that she could grow fond of such a person, in such a way as this. It did not have anything to do with the fact that he was a foreigner. She also did not mind that her uncle was quietly encouraging her to get to know Kyeto better. Usually she could have been irritated, but not this time. Besides, it was all silly, the way they sat in restaurants brooding over Rwandan coffee, avoiding the obvious questions. It never occurred to Kyeto that he was cheating on Angela. He took it like an open friendship that simply had no future, while she took it like a relationship with your grandmother. You just had to love them, even if they had lost more than half of their teeth. Kyeto learnt eventually to enjoy life in Rwanda, the different tempo of things, the cold comfortable weather. He learnt to spend more time at home with Angela. They became the odd couple, close, warm to each other and eternally silent. When one day Angela announced that she was pregnant, he did not have anyone else to tell except Omondi and Michelle. Omondi was overjoyed. He invited them home and roasted two goat legs for the men and two big hens for the women and the children, a few Primus beers and lots and lots of soda. The children were told that soon they will have someone else to play with, and that was why there was a meat and drinks feast. They did not really mind the reasons. A party was just that, a party. Michelle cried when Kyeto told her. Kyeto did not know if it was out of sadness or happiness, but the emotions showed through. She said she was happy for him and resumed to her favourite past time around him – brooding over mugs of delicious Rwandan coffee. When time came to stop the regular brooding, she held his hand as he walked her down to the bus park. He squeezed her hand back and without words let it be known to her that it was okay. At the park, she turned to him to give the ceremonial peck on the cheek. Instead she held his hands and looked into his eyes. “This Angela, she good person for you, but why you not tell me about Angela all the time? Why you not trust me?” Kyeto stared at her and failed to speak back. “But, you still my friend, not? You still sit me for coffee?” she implored him. “Yes, we will drink coffee again,” Kyeto said. She did the cheek to cheek plus kiss on the cheek bye and turned away to board a taxi. kelviod@yahoo.com