Reflections on sunday

It may be easy to uphold that as the mantra for Rwandans of honour these days, but I know that there were times it was costly. Consider this time we were in Kenya as refugees, ‘fugitives’ from persecution in our motherland and in our country of refuge, Uganda. Lucky young men/women had managed to secure education and could get salaried jobs, but imagine the old men/women who had held positions of power in Rwanda and now found themselves belly-up in the wild ocean that is Nairobi, nameless characters without a soul to turn to for succour. Those old Rwandans were men/women of honour, but how could they maintain that mantra? Some had children or relatives who could sustain them but a vast majority had none. They had no way of surviving except by disgracing themselves by begging. But since they had to beg, they had to find a dignified way of doing it. But is there a dignified way of begging? Sure, they found it. They made sure they looked as well-to-do as any rich resident of that populous city. Many of them were usually hungry but made sure it did not show, even if it meant swallowing just water constantly. They made sure they did not betray the fact that they lacked in everything. This, though, posed a problem: no one could tell that they needed help, except those who knew them. Those who knew them were only Rwandans, which meant that they could only fall back on their compatriots. But the Rwandans who had the means were few. To my knowledge, only one business man could be said to have been rich by any standard. Rukururana, the businessman, was not a miser. However, the elders found it easier to access the help of those who had more modest means because they could see them in front of Hotel Ambassadeur or Kenya Cinema, where they used to ‘hang out’. It was here that they used to settle for what was termed ‘air-burger’ (as in hamburger) at lunch-time. As for Rukururana, you had to go to his house for that help. Problem was, if you found him in a foul mood, he’d greet you with a testy comment that you’d not forget in a hurry. The elders knew this, though, and did not blame him. In any case, they always found ways to counter them. Like this early morning he answered the door only to see a line of them ready to enter and ‘chat’. Pressed for time to go transact his business, he looked at them at length and then sneered: “But, you people, aren’t you able–bodied? Go get something to do and be your own providers. Look at me, I’m a self-created man!” They did not exactly take offence, knowing him, but that did not stop one elder from shooting back: “That is very sad, because you were unkind to yourself. If you created yourself, why didn’t you spare yourself those cat-jaws?” In spite of himself, Rukururana burst out laughing! “All right, I invited that to myself! Come in, gentlemen, and feel at home.” All of them laughing now, they filed in and took their seats. He offered them drinks and bites and then called out to his wife to come and entertain them. After giving each of the elders some money, Rukururana jovially bade them good-day and went to his business, leaving them in the care of his kindly wife. Now, the meaning of what I call ‘cat-jaws’. Maybe you’ve seen people who have protruding bones under their ears that look like mumps. Those protruding bones are considered to be a mark of ‘un-handsomeness’ or ‘un-beautifulness’. If you are possessed of ‘amabinga’, don’t expect to be feted as ‘Mr/Miss Rwanda’.Talking of being ‘self-created’, however, the other day I was actually reading about a man who is truly self-made. Mr Wang Chuan-Fu is a 44 year-old Chinese chemist and businessman. He is among the top billionaires of the world. When he finished his master’s degree in 1990, Chuan-Fu’s ambition as a researcher was to find out if there was a way of making better batteries for electronic products. Unfortunately (if not fortunately!) the Chinese government had no money for research. So, in 1995 he quit the public sector and set up his own company to make batteries.The batteries proved to be so cheap and popular that his company, BYD, exploded from a dwarf into a monster in the space of 15 years. Odds are that the battery in your mobile phone, or laptop, is from BYD. And, when he starts exporting, you’ll be driving his electric car, if you are ‘self-made’! It’s sad that he was not a Rwandan of those years ago. Imagine how many elders he’d have assisted! ingina2@yahoo.co.uk