Having visited Africa’s 19th Century city in the 21st Century, my mind has raced back in time and astonishingly, I find myself thinking in a very awkward manner! Who can blame me for that? I’m not the one that created the SKOL! Back in Kigali, I miss SKOL so much, I had got accustomed to having a SKOL for BF, Lunch and Supper, who cannot do with eating on an empty stomach eh! After consuming the “kikwangas” and “kamundelis”, tsombe”, etc. I’m no longer able to think straight; experts say that, people who live off the cassava and its byproducts tend to have a tendency to think slowly (don’t question me on that since I am no expert on “nutritionology”). No wonder that, after returning from Kin Malebo, I am having problems re-integrating back into my local environment. I now understand why some people’s behavior changes when they move from one place to the other. Biologically, that is called adaptation; the quicker one adapts the better for that individual’s survival. After being exposed to those SKOLs, I am reminded of the MINUAR days which are about fifteen to seventeen years ago. That time, Kigali was in the 19th or twentieth century, a lot was left to be desired, the state was on its knees (busy trying to stand), not anymore; we are now in the twenty first century. There is a common comparison with the present day Kin Malebo. In the mid nineties, I had an expatriate friend called Georges, this guy had a really huge heart. He used to foot many of our bills after a whole weekend of “throat wetting”. Why not? His pockets were really well lined; they were cut out of the most “green” material this world has seen. We sometimes joked about Georges’ huge salary; if he was a mere or ordinary George, his name would neverhave had an extra “s” at its end, since it is in plural, he deserves to earn a “pluristic” salary (in thousands of USA dollars). Georges hailed from a country similar to the Kin Malebo, only difference being that he had been educated in the USA and spent most of the time serving abroad as an expatriate! When he landed in Kigali, he nearly lost his head. He could never drive for fear of causing an accident. Who would blame him? From where he hailed, the most beautiful “flowers” had some sort of beards and bleached skins as a sign of beauty! Here, everything was naturally beautiful. One time, he landed himself a “beautiful flower”. After a few moments together, one day, the “flower” humbly requested good old Georges, “Daddy, can you please buy me a RAV4”. This was more than he had expected from any creature, be it the most beautiful flowers on this planet! Narrating his ordeal, Georges told us, “young men, always think twice before you leap into the “flower beds”. mfashumwana@fastmail.fm
