Every so often, I observe something that makes me realise just how different the Rwanda I am living in today is from the one in which I grew up. Last week, I used this column to challenge the ‘white elephant’ narrative that has dogged many of the large investments that the Government of Rwanda has undertaken since the early 2000’s. Interestingly, I joined over 5,000 people on Saturday to attend the finale of the Giants of Africa Festival at the BK Arena (a $104 million ‘white elephant’). The finale, sponsored by Spotify, was a concert graced by Rwanda’s own Bruce Melodie, Nigeria’s Tiwa Savage and Davido and South Africa’s Tyla. Beyond taking in the performances, I spent quite a lot of time watching the thousands of young people, dressed to the nines, dancing, singing along to the Afrobeats and generally having the time of their lives. And then after the show ended around 7pm, I watched them calmly filing out of the concert, chatting with their friends and generally just being young people enjoying their country. Observing this, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotion. Why? Because I never thought I would see something like that in this country. You have to understand that the country I grew up in as a teenager looks nothing like the country that I live in today. As a teenager, I was constantly warned through jingles on Radio Rwanda to avoid playing with landmines, and the newspapers I saw the adults read were full of stories about Abacengezi. When we wanted to drive to visit my grandparents in Nyagatare, we needed an armed escort in case we were attacked. And, the only way I could continue my high school education was if I did so in Uganda. NIDO powder was my milk of choice and a fun day out was going to La Sierra supermarket to buy samosas. Those, and other similar experiences, comprised my teenage years. The funny thing is, at the time, I didn’t think I was deprived of anything. I am pretty sure that my peers felt the same way. It was, as they say in Swahili ‘kama kawaida’ (normal). So, what is ‘kama kawaida’ for teenagers today? They have absolutely no sense of insecurity. They don’t have to go out of their way to consume products manufactured and grown by fellow countrymen and women and they don’t have to leave the country to get a good education. And, a fun day out is watching a basketball game at one of the many courts around the country. Whereas my (and my generation’s) bare minimum ‘standard of living’ consisted of samosas’ from La Sierra, powdered milk and thrice-weekly TV Rwanda broadcasts – each lasting a few hours - teenagers today expect, at a bare minimum, safety and infrastructure that is fit for purpose. What this government has done, since 1994, is constantly increase our expectations. It has not only increased (by its actions) our expectations of it as citizens, it has also increased our expectations of ourselves as citizens of Rwanda. Human psychology dictates that our expectations determine our reality. Because our expectations increase year on year, this manifests in the reality we create for ourselves. The current ‘story’ that we have created for ourselves in Rwanda is that we were a ‘clean, organized and ambitious people’. This ‘story’ has now become a set of expectations. And these expectations now manifest in the way we approach our daily life. The teenagers that I saw trooping out of the BK Arena on Sunday, excitedly recounting their great experience at the concert, now probably expect similar world-class experiences each and every time they attend an event at the venue. These young people are the new Rwanda. They expect the best. Their ‘kama kawaida’ is excellence and may the Lord help anyone (concert promoter or politician) who falls short of their new expectations. There will be hell to pay. The writer is a socio-political commentator
