LooseTalk: Missing Kigali, Knowless

I’ve been away, not on Noël or Bonne Année business like most people, but rather on family business, and it is only cowards that run away from family trouble.

I’ve been away, not on Noël or Bonne Année business like most people, but rather on family business, and it is only cowards that run away from family trouble.

While at it, I missed many things back in Kigali. I missed Knowless. The singer, yes, but even more, I missed the new Knowless; The one that looks good through the glass door of the beer refrigerator at your neighborhood alimentation or boutique.

 

Also missed were the sexy white shuttles or minibuses that ply the coolest Kigali and upcountry routes. By cool upcountry routes I mean to say Musanze, of course, for the obvious reason it’s the coolest part of the country, in all aspects of the word cool.

 

Like the many early explorers who ‘discovered’ many parts of this continent, Musanze is one place from which I could easily have made my early trip to hell, on account of the biting cold. From that very first night I spent at the Red Rocks Backpackers’ facility in Nyakinama village, 7 km deep in Musanze, I had vowed never to spend a night in Ruhengeri again.

 

However, because of the nature of my work, I recently found myself stopping over for a night at the Le Bambou Gorilla Lodge in Kinigi, and shortly after, Muhabura Hotel in the heart of the town. I’m now considering if to take another vow.

The buses earlier mentioned boast the coolest names ever conferred upon inanimate objects: I mean, where else do you come across public transport so thoughtfully named ‘Belvedere Lines, Sotra Tours, Matunda, Stella, and my very favorite ride to Musanze, Virunga  Express.  

I missed Kanda Amazi of DJ Pius or whoever else sung that song. I tried to search for Kanda Amazi from the remote location where I spent my Noëlle break, but nobody seemed to have a clue what Kanda Amazi was. So obviously, DJ Pius or whoever sung that song has got some explaining to do on that front, at least to their uninitiated fans.

The other song I sorely missed listening to is Knowless’s (the singer, not the beer) Nzaba Mpari. This song sits on a teetering, brooding, wavy, bassy and repetitive reggae beat that would have made Bob Marley toast his dreaded hair in the air were he still alive. What I mean to say is that Bob would have at least slightly nodded to Knowless’s flawless flow on that jam.

Assuming that Marley had heard only the audio of the song and felt it was a piece of trash, he would at least bow in recognition after watching her video clip. I have not been up close and personal with Knowless myself (which should be a shame, especially for a person who gets the craving to scribble something about her after every few weeks).

Yes, I haven’t met Knowless in flesh, but from what I gather from my friends, she does not look bad at all. For this reason, my first New Year’s resolution is going to be nothing else but this: to meet Knowless Butera.

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