This past week’s Quiz Night featured a series of questions about KigaliUP, a Rwandan folk music festival to be held this weekend. I had not known what KigaliUP was beforehand, but I came away knowing lots about it! For example, it is modeled after a Canadian folk musical festival. And it would feature a performance by an African musician once called “possibly the most famous singer alive” (or something to that effect) by Rolling Stone, who is also his country’s minister of tourism and culture. (I guessed that this was Youssou N’Dour, but I am pretty sure he was not on the program at the festival, so I don’t know what was going on with that.)
In any case, I went with a friend from Harvard to the first of two nights of music. My hosts did not know that the festival was happening, which I suppose should have prepared me for arriving and seeing a crowd that was substantially (though not exclusively) composed of foreigners. This is to be expected, perhaps: the entry fee of 2,000 francs would be restrictive for many, and perhaps a little too much of the advertising was done online. (Or maybe my hosts just don’t listen to the radio!)
One thing struck me as soon as I got off of the moto. A kid approached me and offered me a wristband ticket. I might have been suspicious, but the price he gave was the right one (as I had read online), and for all I knew he was being paid to sell tickets. Once I tried to buy it, I was immediately surrounded by a whole crowd of kids. I am a little bit O.K. if this happens because they are curious about the foreigner, but here I had the distinct impression that they were looking to take advantage of me. As we worked out the change, I felt several hands successively reach into my pockets; I was ready for it, and they did not get anything, but I was nonetheless a bit put off. This had not happened before.
It’s really unfortunate that some children here feel like that is an O.K. thing to do. Even living on an unpaved road, it is easy to see the orderliness of this city and forget that there is real poverty too. I do not know any of these children’s specific circumstances, but they likely have very little money and non-desirable living situations, as well as very little ability to advance in society, so picking pockets appears to be the most promising way forward. I guess this is the source of many kinds of crime, and addressing it is really difficult regardless of the perspective I try to adopt: that of the disadvantaged, that of the law enforcement, that of the administration.
It was also possible to buy tickets at the gate, from the guy checking tickets at the gate. I have no way of knowing how much official permission my vendor had to be so vending, but I came away with an authentic ticket and the full contents of my pockets so I can’t complain too much.
The music was good, I suppose. I was there less to see music performed, though, than to do something with a friend and experience a new environment. I would have liked to see the headliner of the night, Habib Koité, but he came on at 9:45 (by which point I had to be home). We saw a few Rwandan acts, which were enjoyable, though sometimes very loud. There was also an American, Joey Blake, who performed some nice jazz pieces before beginning to do joint performances with Rwandan musicians.
I noticed some things about the environment that I thought were interesting. For one, this was the first time I had seen substantial numbers of Rwandans smoking cigarettes. This is logical. The people here were probably reasonably well-off, and tobacco—even without American-style taxes—is probably more expensive than most can afford. It was also a live concert, where such things are just going to happen. Finally, the Rwandan government has been very responsible about restricting the ability of international tobacco corporations to advertise, so this country is developing as a place where such things just aren’t too much of an issue.
I also saw one pre-teen being escorted out of the concert pretty forcefully by a policeman. Perhaps he snuck in, or perhaps he was caught doing something else. I can’t really blame an officer for doing his job, but in light of what I had been thinking before I kind of hope he wasn’t too rough.
My other impression was kind of one of confusion: this event was held at Amahoro Stadium, the largest in the city. I had never been there before, so I was curious to see the inside… except that the concert was not held inside. There were two stages set up kind of in the yard on either side of the entryway to the stadium. I have certain associations I make with concerts that are held at sports venues, but I guess these organizers had something else in mind. To their credit, there were not really enough people there to fill a stadium, and to put one of the two stages inside would have created a vast and maybe unmerited hierarchy between the two.
Anyway, the music and company were good, and the food—supplied by various local restaurants—was very nice as well. I am really getting to like brochettes, at least as prepared here. I might find myself trying to seek out similar things more often at home.
I headed out at about 9:00, to allow for the 30- or 40-minute ride home from Kimironko. The moto-ride gave me a chance to test another question I have been pondering, which relates to being taken advantage of by moto/taxi-drivers.
If we assume that I want to get a fair price out of a driver, not to high and also not too low, my question was whether I should speak to him in English or in Kinyarwanda. The argument for Kinyarwanda is simple: hopefully he will respect that I can speak, or at least try to speak, and not instinctively give me the muzuûngu rate. On the other hand, if I am talking to someone with an objective to accomplish, might it be better to address him using a language in which he is less comfortable, so that I can have the advantage in the negotiations?
The latter is certainly the more pessimistic view: it assumes, to some extent, that I will likely be overcharged regardless and that I should be the arbiter of what I pay at the exclusion of the driver. But it occurred to me nonetheless.
My memory is not perfect, but I believe I arranged the price with this driver in English. As it happened, he misinterpreted the location I gave. (There are two places in Kigali called Nyakabanda; I am actually surprised this has not happened more often.) I redirected him, no problem, but when he arrived he mentioned that the price should have been higher. He said it in a kind of resigned voice, sticking with the unwritten rule that the agreed-upon price must be honored. But immediately after, he started asking me about my Kinyarwanda. We had a pleasant, short conversation, and he did not mention the price again.
This is not conclusive. I do not know pricing standards well enough yet to judge. What I hope is that I was given the white rate for the first destination, which ended up being the standard rate for the second. I do hope I didn’t rip him off—he was a nice guy, and the only moto-driver I have ever really talked to.
(For reference, if memory serves, this was 1,200 francs that I paid to get from Kimironko to Nyakabanda, the one near Kimisagara. The ride took 30 or 40 minutes, and I thought this was a reasonable-sounding price, though I’ll grant the possibility that it should have been higher.)
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