Today is day three of the 2025 UCI Road World Championships, in Kigali. The streets are humming. Our feeds are flooded—TikTok, Instagram, X—cycling has hijacked the algorithm. And over the past few days, we’ve heard more about cycling than we ever have before. But here’s the thing—Rwanda isn’t just hosting. We’re competing. But have we stopped—really stopped—to ask what we’re riding for? When the wheels spin through Kimihurura's cobbled street, when the jerseys blur past cheering crowds, there’s more at stake than podiums and medals.

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This is about rewriting what the finish line means for us. It is about legacy. About placing Africa at the front of the global stage. Rwanda is riding for visibility. For voice. For every child who sees a cyclist fly by and suddenly dares to dream. This isn’t just a race. It’s a revolution—on two wheels.

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When Kigali was announced as the host of the 2025 UCI Road World Championships, some people from far corners of the world, paused. Where is that? some asked. For the first time, cycling’s most prestigious global event would take place on African soil. For Kigali, it sure wasn’t a happy accident or a lucky break. This moment has been earned. Kigali has been preparing for this moment in ways that go beyond infrastructure. Yes, there are now world-class roads, dedicated bike lanes, and new race-ready routes that wind through the city’s signature green hills.

But the story doesn’t end with asphalt. It begins with the people. It’s not every day that a country of Rwanda’s size and history produces world-class athletes in a sport like cycling. It takes vision. It takes discipline. It takes a nation that dares to believe it belongs on the world stage—not as a guest, but as a contender.

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Take Eric Manizabayo, for example. Raised in Rubavu, he didn’t start riding for medals. He rode for survival. A munyonzi—a taxi-moto rider—pedaling passengers across town, earning what he could with two wheels and sheer will. But today, on Rwanda’s soil—his home—he races among the world’s best. That transformation—from taxi-moto to the Olympics, from village roads to the World Championships—isn’t just a story of athleticism. It’s a story of mobility turned into momentum. Of dreams born on borrowed gear and cracked saddles.

These athletes carry more than just their own weight. They carry the hopes of every child in every rural village who once thought the road beyond the hill was out of reach. They ride so that dream gets a road.

I watch Diane Ingabire. Xaverine Nirere. Violette Irakoze Neza. Women who refused to stay on the margins. Today, their names line up in Rwanda’s elite women’s time trial. Not as tokens. Not as exceptions. But as proof that representation isn’t optional.

These are people redefining what strength looks like. Not loud posturing. Not angry tweets. But quiet insistence: We belong here. We deserve our place. And in doing so, they inspire twin sisters—Ella and Elsa Nshuti, both 10—who pedal through the morning haze, chasing a future they can now see.

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There’s something electric about hearing your name chanted on roads you know: Kigali’s streets! Some of us can only imagine. It’s a rare home–crowd victory, even before the first ribbon is cut.

This isn’t just sports infrastructure or international spectator numbers. It’s healing. After the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, Rwanda has found in cycling a mirror: a nation that did not choose its past but is choosing its path forward. From the Tour du Rwanda to hosting this iconic UCI championship, it’s not just proof that we can rebuild roads, but that we can rebuild dreams.

In the years following the 1994 Genocide, cycling in Rwanda didn’t begin with elite sports. It began as a necessity. Young boys riding through dusty village roads to deliver milk. Women in Bugesera using bikes to carry produce to the market, pick up children from school, or transport jerrycans of water along rural trails. Mechanics cobbled together spare parts to build makeshift frames.

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In Rwanda, the bicycle was never a luxury, it was a tool. Accessible, essential, and used by all, regardless of gender or class. But over time, these everyday rides became something more. They became symbols of endurance, of perseverance, of moving forward. Some rode to compete. Others simply to survive. Yet both stories carried weight and both told of a people determined not to stand still.

As Rwanda’s infrastructure improved, so too did its cycling culture. Clubs began to sprout across the country, in towns like Rubavu, Huye, and Musanze. They brought together youth from different backgrounds. They fostered discipline, teamwork, and ambition. Riders trained not just for sport, but for a sense of purpose. In many ways, the rise of cycling in Rwanda mirrors the country’s journey: one pedal stroke at a time, against the odds, toward something better.

Some thought world class dreams required world class resources – asphalt everywhere, private jets, massive budgets. No. Our riders have often come from dirt roads, second‐hand bikes, community support, a little prayer, and determination.

Programmes like the UCI WCC Regional Development Satellite in Musanze are real, yes, but they are not the whole story. The whole story includes the parent who fixed a chain at 2 AM, the coach who borrowed a helmet, the school child who traded chores for training hours. These are quiet acts of faith. Today’s elite field didn’t just appear because someone decided Rwanda was scenic. They appeared because someone believed.

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So, here’s what our cyclists are really racing for—and what Rwanda is truly riding for: Proof of presence. Proof that we are not just hosts.

Not just a backdrop for someone else’s story. We are centre stage. We are writing our own script—in sweat, in speed, in silence, and in triumph.

A new narrative for Africa. One about talent, persistence, artistry; not pity.

Youth fulfilled. For every child who feels overlooked, this is a message: your dreams matter!

Unity and healing. That in cheering together, we remember what binds more than what divides.

Legacy, facilities, visibility, opportunity. Not just this week’s JPEGs, but what continues long after UCI 2025 flags come down.

So, the rain might come. The heat might burn. The climbs might shake knees and test every limit. But every drop of sweat, every laboured breath, every pedal stroke carries more than just athletic ambition. They ride for our stories. For our unspoken longings. For the hope that when the world looks at Kigali, they don’t just see hills and flags—but the result of what belief, community, and opportunity can produce. Today, they ride so that Rwanda—and all of Africa—doesn’t just watch the world. We claim our place among what the world celebrates. When our riders cross those finish lines—they carry all of us with them.