I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t watch Donald Trump’s inauguration, but I failed miserably. On Monday, overcome with morbid curiosity and armed with a hot cup of tea, I watched the ceremony as if it were a blockbuster movie. With glee, I observed the characters—Obama, Melania, Bush, Biden, and Elon—play their roles with aplomb. As expected, the inaugural address was one for the history books. In his speech, Trump reiterated the promises that got him elected: fortifying America’s southern border, deporting illegal migrants, increasing tariffs, ignoring green energy, and shutting down the ‘gender conversation.’ There’s a saying that a broken clock is right twice a day. In the same vein, amidst all the bombast, Trump said something that resonated deeply with me. Speaking about his administration’s priorities, he stated, “Ambition is the lifeblood of any nation.” As an African—specifically, as a Rwandan—that sentiment struck a chord. It encapsulated why the African continent struggles with socio-political and economic development and hinted at how we might rise above the challenges. Let me use Rwanda as an example. At independence, Rwandans found themselves under the thumb of Grégoire Kayibanda, a leader who believed that only a segment of the population deserved full citizenship. The ambitious concept of building and consolidating a national identity rooted in unity, diversity, and a shared vision was far beyond him. Instead, he chose to perpetuate the colonial narrative of dividing Rwandans into ‘Bantu natives’ and ‘Nilotic invaders.’ This lack of vision persisted after Kayibanda was deposed in 1973 by Juvénal Habyarimana. Nowhere was this absence of ambition more evident than in 1988 when, during an interview with Belgian television, he was asked why Rwanda was one of the last countries without a television station. Without shame, he replied, “Because we are poor.” Fast forward to 2025, and Rwanda is aiming higher than anyone could have imagined. Despite structural and historical challenges, the country is working to create a unified national identity (ubu-Nyarwanda). This, in a nation that just 30 years ago endured the fastest genocide of the 20th century—a tragedy nearly a century in the making, rooted in Belgium’s colonial policy of divide and rule. Many take Rwanda’s national unity for granted because they fail to grasp just how close the country came to being wiped off the map. After the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, the global consensus was that Rwanda was irreparably broken. Some global leaders even proposed dissolving Rwanda and Burundi into two ethno-states—a Tutsi homeland in Burundi and a Hutu homeland in Rwanda. Others suggested splitting Rwanda into four parts and giving each to neighboring countries: Zaire (now DRC), Uganda, Tanzania, and Burundi. Thankfully, the victorious Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) did not allow that fate to befall us. Nor did they fall into the trap of ethnic-based governance, as Burundi has. That ambitious refusal, and the vision that it was based on, laid the foundation for everything we see in Rwanda today. Today, we live in a country with satellites in space and ambitions to host a Formula 1 Grand Prix—the first in Africa since 1993. Rwanda now deploys security forces beyond its borders to support peace and partners with global sports franchises to promote its tourism industry. Of course, this ambition doesn’t sit well with everyone. Many naysayers ask, “Who do these Rwandans think they are? They’re poor, small, and irrelevant.” To them, I say: “You might be right today—but that is not our destiny. We will go as far as we dream.” There’s a saying I love: “Aim for the stars. If you miss, you’ll land on the moon.” Without ambition, we’ll remain small. But because our government dreams big, so do we—the Rwandan people. The author is a socio-political commentator
