We need to recruit an army of microbes to help fight our sewage strife

For a long time, we have bemoaned the lack of a central sewage system in our towns, especially our rapidly expanding Kigali. We are panicky because it can mean a lot of things, all of them unpleasant.

As an example, if our heavily populated towns were to be seized in a large-scale seismic tremor, God forbid, we’d be consumed in a monstrous mass of morass. That’d bid bye to most, if not all, urbanites of this country.

Having stood on the brink of death once, we wouldn’t want to test our luck again.

But then, it’s not us urbanites threatened alone; our brothers and sisters in the countryside, too. Our country being overpopulated, our people in all villages are equally at peril.

Because, like us, whatever they discharge goes in some sceptic tank, pit or is thrown about all around, in places not far apart. Combined, all these discharges poison our food, our water supply, our rivers – our land generally – when not treated. If treatment of all waste is still problematic for even elite countries, imagine what it means for us in the third world.

Well, sweat no longer!

Soon, we may see a silver lining at the end of this tunnel. If the latest developments are anything to go by, and if they can be perfected in good time, we might be pleasantly surprised by finding ourselves sitting on a gold mine instead of a powder keg, in a not-too-distant future.

News has it that scientists are working around the clock, figuring out how to turn all our unwanted and unclean throw-away into energy.

And, what do you know! The foot soldiers to light our days are the bacteria.

Those pests that have preyed on us since the days of Adam may soon turn into our salvation!

Listen to this from a BBC dispatch: “Researchers at the University of the West of England have created compact, living power stations known as microbial fuel that can turn pee into power.” The cells “contain bacteria, which grow on electrodes and feed on the organic matter in the pee that flows past them, producing a current of electrodes”.

That, if you ask me, is a double barrelled attack on a problem for many in this country.

You know how doctors have always urged us to take in lots of water, as it’s good for our health. But apart from the fact of many hating anything that’s neither tasty (sugary beverages) nor sharp to the tongue (alcoholic drinks), there are those averse to the advice on account of its influence in increasing the urge to frequently answer the short call of nature.

When all these come to know that it’s for a good cause, they might take to water faster than fish. Then, to their liquid discharge will be added the waste water that goes down the drain to give us a sizeable amount of energy generation.

And that’s not all. As there is liquid waste, so is there solid.

Which is how all those aforementioned sceptic tanks and pits will become our ‘unclean sludge’ gold, when they start generating clean energy. All things answering to dirt will turn clean, an answer to Rwanda’s quest for total cleanliness everywhere.

The BBC dispatch again: “Ieropoulos [a scientist] is working with researchers in the United States……..who are developing techniques to turn solid [human waste] into sludge that can flow through the fuel cells.” The sludge is “much more enriched and so the microbes can generate more power.”

To all the above, add biogas and biodiesel that are all too familiar to us. Much as production of the latter was toyed with and then shelved, the former has been put to good use in prisons and schools, without forgetting individual rural homes that are subsidized by government.

What it all boils down to is that since we, as a country, have had the nerve to tread where others dared not, we should go the whole hog.

If we are rendering Lake Kivu harmless by extracting dangerous methane gas and turning it into clean energy, a feat that powerful countries seem to be only now trying, what is impossible about putting all our dirt in towns and villages to good, clean use?

All the unwanted dirt around us plus all the grease, oil and fat near and far can be an added answer to our continued search for enough energy to power our development.

The energy from waste may be a minuscule addition to our eager pursuit of energy expansion. But, as they say where I hail from, the only negative expansion is scrotal elephantiasis – that horrible disease that makes a mountain out of innocuous balls (get my drift?)

Our whole leadership once talked of soon embarking on building sewerage infrastructure but has since kept mum. Could it have occurred to them that there was a rescue army in waiting?

Knowing their knack for spotting out the unforeseen, I wouldn’t put it beyond them.

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Humanity: united we shall stand, divided we shall perish

I cannot aver that I strictly confess to any religious-sect piety. Rather, I’d say I subscribe to the school which holds that communion with God needs no human intervention.

But at one time I believed in the existence of anointed human divine messengers of God. That is, until I was disappointed as a trifling Catholic cub in early 1959 by a message that was doing the rounds of churches in the country, when later I understood it.

Call it a Pastoral or, Episcopal, letter if you will. At that tender age, I knew no difference.

It was called “Ibaruwa y’Umushumba wa Kabgayi” which, at the time, meant a communiqué from Monseigneur (My Lord) André Perraudin, the Swiss Catholic clergyman who was Archbishop of Kabgayi (1959 – 1989).

Truly, he “lorded” it over all Rwandans, Catholics and all!

In part, the message stated: “…..after having separated the good [souls] from the evil, Jesus said to the good: ‘Come, you who are blessed by my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world……’

Then He said to the evil [souls]: ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for you by the devil and his angels….’” (cf. Lettre Pastorale de Monseigneur Perraudin, Vicaire Apostolique de Kabgayi, pour le carême de 1959: Année de Charité {Year of Charity}).

The full impact of that message came to us as miserable refugees when the division colonialism in tandem with Catholicism had been busy sowing came to fruition. The fruition had meant the killing, maiming, banishment (“depart”) and arson (“fire”) that some Rwandans suffered.

Before these foreigners arrived, Rwandans had lived as one, albeit still in a relatively primitive monarchy, but far more just and egalitarian than many social setups of the time.

How we came to look obliteration in the face in 1994 all stemmed from what that “Year of Charity” was celebrating. It was celebrating the 1959 upheavals, a culmination of years of the dislocation campaign against our people.

Super omnia caritas (Latin for “love above everything else”), preached “Monseigneur”. Little did we know that that “everything else” included some blessed souls and some cursed ones, the latter condemned to “depart into….eternal hellfire”.

And doesn’t that “hellfire” sound rather too cannily like the genocide that it all finally led to?

But a little consolation incident: before “Monsegneur” departed this world in 2003 – to become welcome guest of Lucifer in the arson he wished others! – some Rwandans in his retirement home, Switzerland, gave him a fitting parting gift; a well-packaged mass of human waste!

For those who remember, it was not that Rwandans are equally (relative to Perraudin) crude. Rather, it was that God has decreed so: “From waste back to waste.”
God may have called it “dust/ashes” but methinks there is nary a difference as concerns “Monsegneur”!

In case you are wondering, my above emotional rambling was triggered by a sentence some pastors in my family uttered in their preaching this last weekend: “Satan hates unity!”

When you come to think of it, isn’t that a truism to beat other truisms?

You come from foreign climes, gun-threateningly tear at a people’s unity-cord while blowing on the cut with soothing Bible words and by the time you are done, you’ve divided them into something like a millions-fold Cain on one side and a million-plus sacrificial Abels on the other.

An innocent people almost wiped off the face of this earth for being your warm hosts? The “devil and his angels” are saints in comparison. If you ask me, humans are out-performing Satan.

That now-dead horse these foreign powers birthed in Rwanda at the turn of the 20th century, they are still flogging it to this day. For 23 years after we slew their division Trojan horse, they haven’t let up on trying to kick it into life. Who can keep at it like that but a human Satan?

So these foreign powers front one of their own to shamelessly flog the dead horse about who was responsible for a 1994 plane crash, knowing their own judges scientifically checked it out and laughed in their face. Still they push; they must rummage around for witnesses, however often these prove to be hoaxes.

And their arsenal is well stocked. So they fish out indefatigable “Satan’s angels” wearing wolf-in-sheep’s-skin labels like “Human Rights Watch” and other similarly veiled satanic names, created to look for some mud to stick on Rwanda.

Like Napoleon, you should humble yourselves and confess: “Able was I ere I saw Elba”. Modern-day Perraudins, able were you ere you saw Rwanda!

Rwandans are irreversibly here because they triumphed against all odds to regain their unity. Today, Rwanda knows this unity is her shield.

It’s a lesson she learnt the bitter way and a lesson she passionately desires others to espouse.

Let’s hearken to the “super omnia caritas” that’s meant from the heart, as Pope Francis preaches it. He prays that we should live as one, as God Almighty willed it.

And it’s true: united we shall stand, but divided we shall all definitely perish.

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October 1st 1990 shall always remain etched on our mind

Today twenty-seven years ago, the life of this country hung on a thread. Not literally, not practically, not virtually, not apparently, not with any nearness qualification.

It really, truly hung on a thin, stretched-to-snapping thread.

However, improbabilities of all improbabilities, a rescue mission had only just been put in motion, even as the thread stretched to its limit.

Unknown to the rest of the country whose government of the time after October 1st,1990, thought it’d given short shrift to what it called a “tiny invading force”, there was a new commander on the ground, just arrived from the USA.

The ground itself, if it could be called that, was a thin strip of sparse forest and savannah land in the north, bordering Uganda, which could barely conceal anybody. But that enough-invisibility was a blessing to the tiny group: the “short shrift” left survivors.

Badly bruised, yes, but holding up.

Meanwhile, Commander Paul Kagame, the new commander, was busy. He was hard at work, seeking out those in the difficult position of being in command of these scattered, bewildered, wounded, frightened, hungry and thirsty girls and boys, so as to together regroup them all.

The positive point on their side: the ‘new entrants’ all knew one another, having clandestinely organized themselves into a ‘total-unity’ pressure front, The Rwanda Patriotic Front, to agitate for the reclamation of Rwandans’ identity and its attendant rights.

These Rwandans included those turned stateless as well as those who ‘enjoyed’ the right of citizenship but lived as second class citizens, all together a potential pool of back-up support.

The practically intractable problem: the ‘new comers’ were ranged against the full machinery of a government that had entrenched itself so deeply into the belief, having instilled it into its selected citizenry too, that some citizens were foreigners come to encroach on their land.

It’s this government that the “entrants” hoped to bend to reason, through persuasion of any sort.

However, on top of being intransigent, the Rwandan government had the powerful backing of a super power, with the clout to galvanise all African Francophone countries to collectively crash this “insignificant invader” at a moment’s notice.

And later when the government was ‘jabbed’ into noticing that the tiny “invading group” was still around (remember the sneak attack on a celebrating government army at Gatuna border post?), that’s exactly what happened.

The jam-packed avalanche of Francophone influence and power was loosed upon the “tiny force”, ready to send it into total oblivion.

How the “tiny force” survived and finally prevailed over this avalanche, I can only rely on conjecture and titbits from those who were in the thick of it.

What I know is that for the RPF/A, what was paramount was identifying the true enemy of Rwandans’ unity and making sure this is clear to all. No Rwandan was enemy to a Rwandan. The enemy was the leadership/its drivers that had sawn division and was sworn to maintaining this status quo of a dog’s life.

Ability to make Rwandans internalise this fact was the biggest weapon if the war was to be won. But having a clear objective is one thing; clearing a path to reach the ground where to spread that message is a totally different other.

Which meant a face-off with the aforementioned “jam-packed avalanche”.

Using everything to advantage and never forgetting the element of surprise? Reconnaissance operations to locate enemy’s position? Attacking when least expected? Sniping outings that confused the enemy?

Infiltrations? Ambushes? Besieging enemy to cut off all supplies, attacking from all sides, then leaving a vent for enemy’s escape, so as not to face a ‘wounded buffalo’? Giving trenches hiding corners for a ‘dimba hasi’ bomb not to blow you to smithereens?

All the above, I am sure, are in every book on war, which means any fighter worth their small pistol can apply them.

So, how did the outmanned and out-resourced RPA apply them to confound the world by beating a super power and its pack of lackeys hands down?

Whatever the case, we must hand it to the brilliant mind that co-ordinated such an against-all-odds liberation war to turn a ragtag band of poorly armed fighters into a formidable force.

For if the scattering of that “tiny invading force” had been terminal, the Genocide against the Tutsi would have been the ‘logical’ consequence – “logical” because it had always been on the minds of its architects. This would have drawn in all RPF/A supporters who’d been left behind, only to come meet their end by the same sword.

And because this genocide would have been hastily done, especially without the excuse of a plane crash, many in the country would have resisted it or hid the hunted victims.

Again, the ‘logical’ consequence of that would have been the slaughter of those against it.

All of which, in the end, would have resulted in intra-regional, intra-clan down to intra-family self immolation, leaving an ocean of blood where once there trod a dignified, proud people.

For escaping that “stretched-to-snapping thread”, every single Rwandan, friend or foe of the RPF/A, should salute the heroes and heroines who laid their lives on the line to rescue this land.

Last October 1st may have passed sans pomp and pageantry but it’s forever etched on our mind.

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The Reserve Force: great catalyst to our development

They’d been there, silent busy-bee operators, but they first jolted us into wakefulness to their existence when they put up four roundabouts in this city, flat in two days. Not two, as we might have erroneously thought.

Sure, there were some finishing touches to do, for a few more days. But after having been kindly asked to use alternative routes over the weekend, we ogled in wonderment, Monday morning, at new roundabouts and their complementary streets, as if pre-fabrications had been brought from elsewhere and placed there.

And that was not all. Apart from the eye-catching topographical relief the new streets provided, they had these now-increasingly familiar wide sidewalks that are partitioned into parts with stretches of green, stretches for those with disabilities (reportedly) and those for the able-bodied, with beautifully patterned tiles.

The authors of the execution of this summary job?

The Reserve Force of the Rwanda Defence Forces who, after having consummated the heroic liberation struggle of every individual of the persecuted Rwandan society, for one reason or another are not exactly in active service with their comrades.

Even then, says their website, they still “stand ready to support and augment….active services when called upon under partial or total mobilisation”.

As they “stand ready”, however, they are not idle. After all, as has been inculcated into their minds by their longstanding Commander-in-Chief, liberation does not end with the routing of the human oppressor. Total liberation goes beyond removing all oppressive conditions and building total empowerment of a people to doing much more.

That, understandably, can only be for the long haul…….

The thought of this hard-working group that’s part of our forces came to me on hearing news of some demobilised soldiers or reservists in some countries burning construction tools and generally reading the riot act to their governments.

It’s a shame. These governments never figured out the fact that this ready reservoir of energy can enjoy being engaged in profitable service. And apart from making profit for the country generally, it can make the dual profit of a salaried workforce to boost retirement benefits, as well as keeping itself from idleness.

Seems somebody in those countries didn’t recall, or was blind to, the old adage: “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop”…….

But we digress; our Reserve Force. To contribute in totally liberating this society, they are in the trenches, so to say, where they’ve always been.

And so you’ll see them busy in an unceasing process of building paved roads and their wide walkways in and around all city estates, which also creates employment outside the force.

One example of the result? Today you spend hours in traffic at a notoriously permanently-gridlocked road junction. Two weeks thence, when you venture there again, it’ll be no ‘venturing’ any longer! Wide paved bypasses will have been hacked out of what were impassable narrow paths, so gullied you could hardly get a foothold, to make traffic jam history.

The cost? Rock bottom, with the bonus of speed. The low cost is in spite of their big workforce and heavy road construction equipment that ensures that speed.

Therefore, the three districts of this city don’t need bulging pockets to call them up. That’s how they are getting a variety of asphalted streets or hard-surfaced murram roads, partitioned land parcels for new housing estates and more, all done literally overnight.

But if you think city districts have monopolised the services, you’ve got another think coming! For, in fact, the force is more active in the rural districts.

And here, the stroke of genius has been the model villages.

Again the “silent operators” had been erecting them in different districts without catching our attention until one adjacent to a new hospital was showcased to President Kagame, as he was going to open the hospital.

When we saw these modern buildings and their interior furnishing, seeing as they challenged our own city houses, some of us thought the pictures were playing tricks with our eyes. We had to physically visit Nyabihu District, Western Province, to confirm.

Yes, in two months and at a tiny fraction of the cost quoted by private companies, districts are financing world-class housing estates, done and dusted by Rwandans, for their poor compatriots. “For speed, China, here we come!” boasted someone amongst us.

Interestingly, the story is told of one family who, looking at that glittering new house, dismissed it offhand. “No,” said they, “it cannot be true that such a house can belong to us! When, moreover, we are already beneficiaries of monthly government subsistence allowances!”

It took the local government officials some few days to convince them to live in it as their own!

And so, those model villages are confined to the rural areas, right? Well, wrong!
The other day, one was unveiled in Kibaya Village, Kamashashi Cell, Nyarugunga Sector, Kicukiro District, exactly next to my abode. When you consider that this is the rising prime estate for the young executives of this country, greying self being old odd man out, that’s when you’ll realise how egalitarian our society is slowly but surely turning out to be. Remember the promised total liberation?

It’ll be interesting to see this country wholly covered by these and similar model villages. At this speed, maybe before seven years are out?

The Reserve Force is involved in many other activities, of course, like terracing, responding to emergencies and many others. So, when in other places they’d be languishing in idleness, here they are doing their bit to contribute in building the unity, equality and prosperity of this society.

Let’s give it up for the Reserve Force of the Rwanda Defence Forces!

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Will the West ever allow Africa to create its own pictures?

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” we are constantly told. However, none has considered corn artists who paint replicas of our pictures and accompany them with trumped-up interpretations?

True, when you identify with a picture and its context, it may be worth a whole library of history. But con artists’ works may be worth a load of wordy drivel.

These umpteen foreign con artists corrupt our pictures and their interpretations so that the veracity of our interpretations is crowded out of public view.

Take a video clip I recently got in a whatsapp message. It shows a group of Rwandans in front of a family home, dancing to the original version of the “Nta ntambara” tune.

To me, that clip alone illustrates how colonialism had categorized that group of Rwandan dancers as “hunters and gatherers” as opposed to the categories of “land tillers” and “cattle herders”. And how it was during the post-colonial-Rwanda era before 1994, an era (pre-1994) when that categorization had been pushed further into fracturing this society.

It’s not of the colonial era because it’s in colour. Photography had not yet acquired colour. Nor of the pre-colonial era, not only because it’s black-and-white but also because that group wouldn’t be dancing alone; all other categories of their compatriots would be there.

Before colonialism, at the mere sound of a clap of hands, crowds of villagers would have poured out of homes around to join the singing and dancing, everyone with their musical instrument. An impromptu kind of celebration would thus start.

It was the same with the call to work, hence the origin of today’s umuganda that has attracted international appeal. So was it, at the sound of an alarm or, more ominously, when war drums were sounded, a reason no single Rwandan was taken slave.

All of which, and more, goes to show that Rwandans lived as a symbiotically closely-knit society.

The bond was so strong that whoever wronged a compatriot, no matter how highly placed in society, received the prompt penalty of a hastily convened Gacaca. Again, thus the origin of the namesake community court system that did wonders with genocide trials, with their accompanying reconciliation bonus.

Of course, as in any society, there were hardcore outlaws whose crimes could call for capital punishment. But these were markedly rare.

How colonialists tricked Rwandans into breaking this bond, with their sweet Bible talk of shared humility, while behind that talk they carried lethal guns unknown in this area and their would-be coup-de-grace genocidal weapon of divide and rule, we do not have to repeat here.

So, back to the clip. Why wouldn’t it be of this post-1994 period?

For one, after the Genocide against the Tutsi, no group of Rwandans was used as a curiosity for tourism, as the clip depicts. The compartmentalisation of Rwandans into categories was the first thing the new government did away with.

The unity, equality and dignity of all Rwandans were priority points on the Rwanda Patriotic Front’s 8-point programme (before the genocide necessitated a 9th), from its inception in 1987.

That alone, without needing details, explains why that family home wouldn’t have consisted of a derelict grass-thatched shack. Those singers and dancers wouldn’t have been bare-foot. The dirt and ballooned tummies with protruding navels wouldn’t have been there.

This side of 1994, everyone is clean thanks to ‘kandagira ukarabe’, a government programme to provide clean water where there is no running water yet. Kids are in good health thanks to mutuelles de santé, the 90+% community health insurance cover that’s admired worldwide. Add to that the Girinka programme, the government offer of a cow per poor family to ensure healthy nutrition and many other benefits and you see a people with improved livelihood all round.

But a Helen C. Espen, even as a veteran of education, would she allow us to see that picture of rich history and how it ensured a speedy recovery from a horrific catastrophe? Not on your life!

The hireling has put some jumbled-up titbits together to make a rambling, clumsy semblance of an opinion on Rwanda to distort all the aforesaid. And a newspaper swallows her tedious ranting of deformation, hook, line and sinker.

In that closely-knit society of our history, a respected mother of our nation used to make a citizen her object of torture? That’d mean she could as well have sold her people into slavery.

A trusted and disciplined high-ranking cadre confided the RPF’s guarded secret to a foreign pedestrian in a foreign office’s waiting room? If it’d been so, slipping out of Uganda unnoticed wouldn’t have happened.

It beggars belief that a self-respecting paper can peddle such reported, nonsensical hearsay from an unknown foreigner as a valid opinion!

Betrayals have happened, all right, but none in those categories quoted, at their various times.

But blame it not on such Espens. They are only hirelings and assets to all those erstwhile trusted custodians of objectivity, for their con pictures: The Guardian, The Financial Times, BBC, VOA, The New York Times, Le Monde, the horde. On matters Rwanda, they’ve lost it!

To them, a fast-transforming Rwanda is a whole load of loathsome unconformity. Such a picture that’s not all hunger, dirt, disorder et al is not a good example to the rest of Africa and a con job need be presented, else these news outlets will starve. For they, too, are hired guns.

Behind them are the systems that killed Lumumba, Rwanda’s Rudahigwa, Burundi’s Rwagasore, to quote only our next-door neighbourhood. And these systems have not exhausted their perpetual puppeteer passions and will use any tool, including “bankrupt” leaders in our neighbourhood, to maintain them.

Talk about turncoats. One such “bankrupt” leader, how sad to recall, set off as the transforming exemplar of an African society that hungered for change but has since morphed into one of what he denigrated as “quislings”.

In your twilight years, selling your soul to what you formally termed “Imperialist vultures” is to face a most dishonourable end, to put it most mildly. But that’s neither here nor there!

As Africans, it behoves us to create masterpiece pictures of growth and integrity in our societies.

On their own, the pictures will tell their stories in thousands of words and defy distortion.

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Who will come to the rescue of the Rohingya and other threatened communities?

What’s wrong with Myanmar, the country that we used to know and respect as Burma?

We remember, don’t we, Burma as the name that had been branded on our brains by our aging parents’ stories as the country of a brave people who put up a goog fight against some European colonialists. Sadly, being only subjects, our parents had to fight for those colonialists.

However, at least they drew lessons from that experience: at the battleground, colonialist and colonised were equal, as they shed blood equally. And seeing as they were equal, why should any human claim superiority over another? It’s partly thus that the seeds of independence agitation from colonialism were sawn in Africa.

Then, nearer to our present, the name Burma, or Myanmar, surfaced again as home to a great freedom fighter, Aung San Suu Kyi. We admired her for single-handedly peacefully but powerfully taking on a diabolically dictatorial military regime and managing to wear it down until it became a budding democracy. And she was rewarded with a Nobel Prize, to boot.

Today, San Suu Kyi is Myanmar’s de facto leader, as its State Counsellor.

But alas, that democracy never came to be. Now when Myanmar and its Nobel laureate are mentioned, we cast our eyes down in shame; such an embarrassing place has it become. In fact, all who care about that country pray that the prize is withdrawn from Suu Kyi.

Few of us had ever heard of the Rohingya community. Personally, I started hearing about them around the mid-1970s and it was always in connection with their persecution. To-date, this persecution has not let up. If anything, it has become a cleansing effort where the military is committing genocide in front of a world that seems too impotent to act.

In this 21st century, a country is united in the commission of the most despicable crime in the world against a defenceless people and it’s not ashamed about it. The Rohingya community may be said to originate in Bangladesh and Bengal but this has been their home from as far back as the 8th century, we are told. Such a people, who can dare call them migrants?

And Aung San Suu Kyi, who earned a prize on the back of fighting for the suffering innocents of Myanmar at the hands of a despotic military regime, is playing possum; feigning deafness and blindness to all this. Knowing it’s mainly the same military regime that robbed the Rohingyas of their legitimate right to citizenship but no, now she is sitting cosy, her job done.

This hounding of an innocent community, whether Muslim or Hindu, why is it allowed to continue? Why should they live in internally displaced persons’ camps, or as refugees in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Malaysia, India, UAE, Thailand, Indonesia and even Bangladesh?

Myanmar must know that the Rohingya Muslim community crisis is its crisis. Aung San Suu Kyi and the Myanmar government must rein in their army so that it can begin to respect all the people of their country equally. Fiddlesticks to talk of a ceasefire, as if between two warring parties!

However, as we in Rwanda learnt with genocidal bitterness, the liberation of a community begins with itself, whatever enormity of odds staked against it.

The Rohingyas, wherever they are in the said countries and whatever religion, must unite and speak with one voice. Once able to mobilize around the cause of self-assertion, a leading voice will emerge to articulate their plight and push this slumbering world out of its inertia.

And, again as we in Rwanda so painfully learnt, none should put their hope in that chimera of a world organisation, the UN. It has never pulled any people out of their predicament and cannot go beyond blabbering about “a problem that needs to be addressed urgently.”

Yet how Aung San Suu Kyi and her country, as well as Bangladesh and India, need to urgently be pushed to sit together and hammer out a solution. If they need it, they can solicit the support of the countries accommodating the Rohingyas as refugees.

Where is the global force that can galvanise countries of the world into heaving this grieving community out of this sinkhole? For, finding such a force, the world will have found the force to similarly rescue bleeding communities around the world, especially the third part of the world.

Maybe the world should join the voice from strange quarters – the lips of none other than US President Donald Trump, supporting the UN Secretary General on reforming a body he (Trump) had sworn to starve of funds. Time for “concrete changes in the United Nations to better align its work on humanitarian response, development and sustaining peace initiatives” is long overdue.

And if the UN wants real, tangible reforms, it need not look further for lessons than the AU and the man who penned the much appreciated reform proposals for it (AU). Even Donald Trump is reported to have seen the sense in that, if I heard correct.

In fact, why not hand that AU reformer the duty and the leeway to pick his reform team, give him liberty to effect the reforms (can they?), sit back and observe? This moribund UN body will erupt into action like they’ve never dreamed before!

For any reform to be meaningful, however, the UN will have to be wrenched out of the grip of the self-considered superior Security Council and shear the latter’s veto powers. Then the UN can be turned into a global body of equals for, doesn’t it baffle that one country should monopolise leadership of the Department of Peace Keeping Operations?

The UN can best serve the victimized of the world if all nations embraced this simple maxim: united we stand, divided we fall.

United in the majority of equals, these nations can vanquish any sabre, or even nuclear, rattling rogue nation/s; against its/their own communit/y/ies or against any other nation/s.

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Kudos to RPF campaign organisers for showing us that we can!

If foreign detractors have been accusing our leadership of being intolerant, may it be happy to plead guilty! And, in fact, beyond that, may it now start to be more severely so!

After all, the people of this land are happy exactly because of that.

It’s true, though, that even some of us, leave alone foreigners, took time to appreciate the sense of it all. Because when first we saw this intolerance, say over our walking on grassy medians of double carriageways, it did not immediately register into our minds that it’d in the end put us among the cleanest and most orderly societies of the world.

And can you point out a people that restored their peace and reconciled faster? It was all thanks to this intolerance. Intolerance to dirt, disorder, laxity, poverty, insecurity, impunity and more. Intolerance to any abuse to anybody or to us as a people.

But our people are not yet where they deserve to be, said President Kagame the other day after the new government had just sworn in. Now that! Who doesn’t know its weight and significance?

We know, because our president’s method of work hasn’t been called “imvugo ni yo ngiro” (his word is his bond) for nothing. This new government will deliver or else!

Which will mean severer intolerance to graft, where some leaders manage to find “comfort zones” in a country that’s averse to enjoying any, when work awaits. The “comfort zone”, for instance, of anybody siphoning off part of funds for building roads to end up delivering shoddy work.

It will mean severer intolerance to economic stagnation, citizen impediment, inequality, unreliability, obscurantism and opacity where what’s done is never clearly communicated and shared among all concerned parties.

And what’s democracy if it’s not citizen participation, equality, accountability, transparency, no abuse of power and, paramount among them, economic freedom?

Tolerance, too, yes, in the sense of being intolerant of those who cannot tolerate divergent views, the exchange of which ensure better performance.

That’s how that intolerance, in effect, has birthed democracy.

From its deathbed this country has advanced beyond all expectations, despite the detractors’ unceasing “but” intended to negate everything. Still, it remains a fact.

There is no ground to doubt, therefore, that the country may turn into a smooth working machine that delivers comprehensively consensual democracy à la Rwandaise, to finally tie these detractors’ tongues.

There are teething problems like youth unemployment, full infrastructural development, proper health service delivery, quality education provision, agricultural expansion and mechanisation and many others but they are not exactly unsolvable.

If our government can get its act together and work in complete concurrence across and up and down all institutions, departments, agencies and the citizenry, this country can go far, faster.

The possibility of this was borne out by the amazing organization of this year’s RPF campaigns.

For every campaign site, GPS measurements were taken to determine the square metres required for the expected size of crowd attendance, worked on in consultation with national, provincial, district, sector, cell down to village levels. Tents were set up for the vulnerable, pregnant and young, always leaving walk- and drive-ways for the candidate and service-providers.

Meanwhile, those intending to attend campaign rallies had been identified, transport vehicles found and their mechanical soundness ascertained for the orderly transportation of people to and from the campaign venues, wherever necessary.

For the peoples’ health and hygiene, campaign sites were dotted with enough medical tents that were manned by teams of doctors, nurses and health workers, in case of emergency.

Tanks of treated water with disposable cups for the able-bodied, bottled mineral water as well as juices and biscuits for the weak and young were at the disposal of all these categories, without forgetting portable public conveniences in addition to those already at the site. Their cleanliness, plus enough toiletries (water, soap, disinfectant, disposable towels, etc.), had been ensured, too.

Seeing the logistics in place; the decorations; the sound systems and projector screens; wifi internet everywhere and facilitation for media coverage; the security checks and maintenance of peaceful assembly to cap it all, and knowing everything was done to cater for crowds sometimes upward of 40,000, one could only marvel.

Remember that all the above had to be replicated twice, thrice, sometimes four times in each of the thirty districts of this country. And that everything was packed into 20 days flat of campaigns. Yet at every single venue throughout, all went on without a single incident.

The efficient crowd control, care and concern as well as the maintenance of their security, I doubt any first world country could rival, no exaggeration!

As for the clean, smooth, orderly and transparent process on polling day, in Kenya it’d have thrown their Supreme Court out of business!

Talking of which, let’s pray that nullification judgement was passed after considering the context the judges operate in and that they have not handed our brothers and sisters a tinderbox. May they all have the heart to remember that Kenya matters more than any single individual therein!

As their Chief Justice was once told, “…..laws are based on values, but they are not the same as values.”

So is it with us. RPF campaigns opened our eyes to what we are capable of, basing ourselves on our values, if we commit to maximally apply ourselves. But then again, should we be surprised?

Wasn’t it the RPF that gave us the audacity to exert our intolerance to mediocrity of any form?

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