KEEP ME POSTED

When it rained sense, you had no umbrella, but when it rained trends, you were carefully wrapped in the arms of Noah’s Ark. It is just another day and you are seeing your shiny forehead in the mirror as that sudden realization hits you.

Your phone is on the charger and you are still deciding whether to wear your Lorna or Kabatesi suit. In your Lorna realm, you know words like "overrated," "underrated," hype," and whenever you text or post, you spice things up with abbreviations like "smh,", "ngl," "idk," "lol," "Idc," the modern kid’s starter pack. You are on Instagram under the name "L'or nah", on X, you tweet @Or NaK. You only use your Kinyarwanda name when you go to the hospital or when you need service from local government leaders. You are a big girl in the small yet beautiful city of Kigali, the capital city of Rwanda. You need to see your doctor at 9:00 a.m. so, you’re going to put on your “Kabatesi“ suit. You put on your red T-shirt and a loose pair of “boyfriend” jeans that you feel comfortable in. You put on a black KGL cap to cover your messy hair and a pair of sneakers, then go to a bus stop. As you stand, you put on earphones and wait for a bus, just to avoid people who might ask questions. Busanza claims to be in Kigali but you somehow disagree, since you always have to wait for a bus for almost two hours. You put your index finger on the fingerprint sensor of your phone, the only portal that links you to other cool kids. You scroll down on X to see who insulted whom, who hosted which meetings and spaces, and all the gossip X can tell you about the world. Your friend who recently opened a YouTube channel sent you a link so you open your YouTube app. It makes you laugh how almost every woman you went to the same school with has a YouTube channel. Birthday vlogs here, skin care routines there, shopping, cooking, flexing, and food reviews. "Hey guys, welcome to my YouTube channel, today I'm lazy, I just ordered food on VubaVuba and it is arriving anytime soon, so 'eat with me.'"

Something disgusts, and at the same time intrigues you about that one friend of yours. She's out there, speaking broken English, mispronouncing "r" and "l" but at least, she has courage and charisma, a little ignorance, and too much confidence. She's definitely like you in your Lorna realm but much different from the invisible Kabatesi you and your old neighbors think you are.

They have praised you a lot for not behaving like “those Kigalian women.” Your friend on YouTube goes on “Guys, I didn't like the pizza so much; it wasn't worth the hype. Let's just try together the clothes I bought on SheIn” 

You want to correct her pronunciation but unlike her, your intelligence is sandwiched between layers of deadly silence just as your tongue is held captive by your jaws, although you know you can use fingers to talk. What irritates you the most is the way your dad and mom always put you in the same category as your fellow "modern latter days children" who live a virtual life, spend their money in BK Arena every weekend to a concert, taking cabs to house parties, girls who can drink like their dads but can't cook like their moms, Rwandan youth who mix languages just to look educated, depressed — a generation with happy pictures! Like a stinging nettle, it sends a sharp sensation on your skin because the part of it is true but again, why do they brush aside the fact that this modern era has brought with it easy life, where almost everything can be done online?

All in all, you can't deny the fact that you need to move with the moving world, now that your country, Rwanda, has no speed governor when it comes to development! It is at that moment that you remember the song which goes like "umwana utazi koga uruzi ruramujyanye" (he who can't swim will swiftly be taken by the river/flood).

The bus horn honks you back to your senses. You bring out your Tap and Go card and find a good window seat. It is time to listen to bus stories so that you may get what to post on your socials.