Dignity isn’t just a word to be bandied about

As we remember the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi I’ve been thinking about the theme of this year’s commemoration period, truth and dignity. What does it mean to live in ‘dignity’? It is an undisputable fact that Rwanda isn’t a rich country, at least more monetary terms. We have a rich culture and tradition but we are found lacking when money is used as a benchmark of ‘richness’. But, is it possible to live in dignity even when the going is tough? I’ve been following the debate on this year’s removal of the 25,000 franc stipend, which was formerly given to all university students on government scholarships. The BBC and Voice of America Kinyarwanda services recently aired programs that attempted to highlight the plight of the students who had lost their stipends. I use the word ‘attempted’ because they didn’t do a great job of revealing the truth. I won’t, even for a second, negate the fact that some students are having a horrendous time financing their studies. I was a student at the National University of Rwanda (NUR) myself and I know what it is like not having ‘bourse’ money. I remember, in 2007, I spent more than four months off the bourse list because of some clerical errors in SFAR. It was tough, but I made it. Why? Because I had another source of income, namely my writing gig at The New Times. How did I get the gig? I simply walked into the newsroom with an article I’d written, handed it to the editor and asked whether it was good enough to be published. He said no, gave me pointers and sent me on my way. I came back a day later with an improved version, handed it in and then, after it was published, was paid a ‘whole’ three thousand francs. When was this? In 1997. And my writing never looked back. I’d been just refused a job waiting tables at the Kacyiru Chinese restaurant and writing was my last throw of the dice. I didn’t get the job to finance my studies or anything important. I just wanted a job to do while I was on holiday. When I got to university I was able to rent a room, live by myself (which was, and still is, a rarity in Butare) and buy whatever I needed to be as comfortable as a student possibly could. I remember classmates saying that I was the son of a ‘rich man’ not realizing that I was paying my own way. It seems that they couldn’t get their heads around the fact that I wasn’t scrounging off my parents but was instead enjoying the fruits of my labour. Actually, I remember telling some of the more articulate ones that they too could get paid for their ideas; I wasn’t surprised when all of them declined the opportunity. They were happy to survive on the 25,000 francs. What kind of existence was this? They slept two to a single bed, ate in hovels and couldn’t afford things like deodorant. I apologise if I sound snobbish, but how can you be dignified if you live like a peasant? Dignity isn’t all about smelling like a flower but rather the way you view yourself. And to be honest, the manner that university students expect to be babied by the state is undignified. This isn’t just a university student issue, but rather a societal one. Too often I see people expecting a free lunch, either a person asking me for “transport home to Ruhengeri because my mother is sick” or someone I barely know asking for a “wedding contribution”. This begging culture is simply dehumanizing. It is my belief that each time you get something for free, a piece of your pride is eroded forever. What people need are not soul-sucking handouts. What they need, in my humble opinion, is to adapt a mentality that frowns upon freebies. Students, fellow members of the NUR family, get jobs, sacrifice and think outside the box. Times have changed and so must you. I have seen dignified poor people, but I’ve never seen a dignified beggar. sunnyntayombya@newtimes.co.rw