My friend told me she thought this was a book excerpt. It is not. It is a memoir from a funeral I attended here in Rwanda.

ሩዋንዳዊት ጓደኛዬ፣ ፈረንሳይኛ እና መልካም ስነምግባር ለአቅመ ሔዋን ከደረሱ በኋላ የሚማሯቸው ነገሮች አይደሉም አለችኝ። የግል አስተያየቷ ሳይሆን፣ ሩዋንዳውያን የሚሉት ነው። ሳስበው ይህን የሚሉት መልካም ስነምግባርን በጊዜ ለልጆቻችሁ አስተምሩ ለማለት እንጂ ካደጋችሁ በኋላ ፈረንሳይኛ አይዘልቃችሁም ለማለት አይደለም። ግን በተዘዋዋሪ አሉት።

ከሰደበኝ ስድቤን የነገረኝ እንዳለው የኔ ሀገር ሰው ደግሞ ቀን ተሌት ፈረንሳይኛ ለመማር ስታትር እያየች ይህን ያለችኝ ጓደኛዬን አንገቴን ነቀነቅኹባት።

እኔ የአባ ቢላዋ ልጅ አልዃት

አምንብሻለሁ አለችኝ

አይ የልብን ተናግሮ አምንብሻለሁ አለ እንዴ አልዃት

ጨዋታ ነው።

አሁን Gael Faye (በእንግሊዝኛ የጻፍኹት እንዴት እንደሚነበብ ስለማላውቅ ነው) የጻፈው petit pays ማለትም ትንሿ ሀገር የሚል የፈረንሳይኛ መጽሐፍ እያነበብኹ ነው። ወይም ለማንበብ እየሞከርኹ።

እልህ ምላጭ ያስውጣል እንደሚሉት የኔ ሀገር ሰዎች ደግሞ።

የዚህ መጽሐፍ ፊልም በፈረንጅ አቆጣጠር ሚያዝያ 23 እዚህ ኪጋሊ ይታያል። 10 ቀን አለኝ።

ጨርሼ ለፊልሙ ከደረስኹ ትሸልሙልኛላችሁ። ወይ ታጨበጭብሉኛላችሁ አስተያየት መስጫው ላይ።

ይህን ሀገርን ወክሎ በአለምአቀፍ መድረክ ከመወዳደር ለይቼ አላየውም። ትልቅ አደራ እንደተጣለብኝ ይሰማኛል።
@coffeeandscribblings

April 17, 2025
@coffeeandscribblings

በድል ተጠናቅቋል እንደማለት።
@coffeeandscribblings

http://lozadmasu.wordpress.com/2025/04/22/encore-debutante/



Here is an entire article.

ስብርባሪዎቼን ለቃቅሜ ስመጣ ብንኮሻኮሽ፣ እዘኑልኝ እንጂ አትፍረዱብኝ።
@coffeeandscribblings

By the way…
The movie (The adaptation of petit pays that was screened) was intense to say the least.
Words have their own way of evoking emotions but the movie hit me entirely differently.
The french accents of the people, the use of Kinyarwanda amid conversations, the use of local daily items we see here, the clothes the people wore made me relate to it even more.
It had so many scenes that were not in the book but it wasn’t very annoying.
I was very distressed during some scenes.
That is the power of art.
With this, I am letting go of the story of Gaby.
If you read or watch it, I hope you enjoy it.
@coffeeandscribblings

I channel Kali sometimes. (I am not a Hindu and when I say channel I do not mean I pray for her guidance).

But I actively think about her at times that I need to be angry. It is important to be angry at times. Angry feels like an understatement. I am actually usually angry. It is important to be furious.

I imagine Kali in the story. She found herself in a battlefield where a devil's spilled blood sprang up more demons making killing him an impossible task. She emerged in a cycle that is frustrating. Cycles generally are frustrating but a specifically frustrating cycle this one.

She stormed into the battlefield very furious. She killed the demons and drank the blood of the original one before it could touch the ground. Finally winning.

It is not a pretty scene. It is a bit disturbing and messy.

Being furious in an attempt to break a cycle is as disturbing and messy too. And the difficult part is you might also have to face the dark parts of yourself and be a little humiliated.

Kali's dance of destruction got out of hand and she continued shedding blood until Shiva stepped up. And she hangs her toungue out in shame.

Somebody I used to know told me channeling Kali is a tricky thing cause you pay the consequences. And she couldn't be more right. Whether we admit it or not we have a big share of our own misery and repetitive cycles. It is humiliating to discover that. But it is also necessary.

I see more than a few cycles going on in my life. Be it in my personal life or professional. I am thinking about Kali a lot now. I am about to take some extreme measures that will probably make me face my own darkness and faults. I am about to let the unruled part of me rule for a while.

Because... what the fuck?
@coffeeandscribblings

When I moved to Kigali in July I wrote a piece called ‘The truth about moving’. Among many things I talked about, one was the pain of estrangement. I wrote about how I barely understand the contexts I am in.

10 months later, I was cleaning my room and I found 100 RWF cents here and there which reminded me of how I used to find 1 Birr cents in my room back home. And I suddenly realized I don’t feel estranged anymore. I don’t know where I dropped it or when but it was no longer with me.

Last week, someone recognized me in another part of the city and said ‘Izuba girl’. I was so happy. I enthusiastically said yes I am! (Izuba also means sun in Kinyarwanda by the way).

I finished my piece in July with a slight optimism that I wasn’t sure would come. This is an acknowledgment that it has.

And thank you to everyone who held my hand.
@coffeeandscribblings

There is a lot of loneliness in living away from home.

First there is the weirdness of sticking out like a thumb. Everybody knows you are not from there. It is not the color of your skin. It is not the way you dress. It is not that you don’t know the language. It is not how you eat. I don’t know what it is. There is always something that tells on you.

Then there is the curtain. The transparent curtain between you and everyone else. Transparent but a curtain nonetheless; you would reach out your hands but you wouldn’t touch the face. There are some things you are not allowed to see. Some things you wouldn’t be told just because you wouldn’t understand.
I sometimes want to scream ‘Try me’ but I get scared. Another’s life is not an intellectual exercise after all. Or a subject of deep fascination.

But don’t I know it all? Doesn’t what happen to one also happen to another? Do I not know these feelings very well?


But it is sometimes lifted; When you least expect it. The people behind the curtain are suddenly in your embrace. You can feel their warmth on your body and it is not very cold anymore.
@coffeeandscribblings

አዕዋፋትን ተደሰትኹባቸው።
ንግስታቸው እመስል ተወኑልኝ።
ለብቻዬ የሚስጥራቸው ተካፋይ ሆንሁ።
ከአሁን ሌላ የማስበው የለኝም።
በዚህ መሆን ለእኔ መልካም ነው።
@coffeeandscribblings