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On Identity

  When I first settled in Rwanda in 2008, one of the first questions people of my parents’ generation would often ask upon meeting you at social gatherings (mostly weddings) was, “Iso ninde?” (who is your father?) or “Uri uwande?” (“whose are you?”). Rwanda is a relatively small country, and within the same social circles people will often know each other, or at least know of each other. If you mentioned your parents’ names, chances were that the person asking would recognise them and would therefore be able to identify you through them. Effectively, you were your parents’ son, for better or worse. If your family had a good name, then you enjoyed the social capital that came with it — and if not, that too followed you. Conversely, when you become a parent, people start calling you Papa so-and-so or Mama so-and-so, using the name of your child. So these days, I am my sons’ father ( I have two sons). As I have grown older, I have realised that identity does not stop shifting. Dependi...
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In defence of the 9-5

  Growing up in East Africa in the ’90s, the road to success seemed pretty straightforward: do well in school, get good grades, earn a degree, land a stable 9-5 job, work hard, and save for retirement. It was a tried-and-tested formula that had worked for the previous generation. But even back then, there were signs that things weren’t as secure as they seemed. Economic changes in the region led to job cuts and restructuring in the public sector, leaving hundreds of thousands of professionals out of work. The once-stable 9-5 didn’t seem so solid anymore. Still, for many, the dream remained—that is, until the 2000s came along with a new way of thinking. Books like  Rich Dad, Poor Dad  by Robert Kiyosaki changed the game, making us rethink what success and financial freedom actually looked like. The War on the 9-5 In  Rich Dad, Poor Dad , Kiyosaki contrasts his two father figures. His biological father, a well-paid university professor, is called the “poor dad” because...
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SMACK days

It has been about 30 years since I first set foot in St. Mary’s College Kisubi (SMACK). Looking back at that first week, it was an intimidating experience. SMACK was arguably the best boys' high school in Uganda at the time, renowned for academic excellence. The walls had a fresh coat of white and blue paint, the lawns were immaculate, and not a single window was broken. The students were well-spoken and smartly dressed. Every teacher who addressed us referred to us as "gentlemen" and informed us that we had joined the country's crème de la crème. We were expected to conduct ourselves impeccably to be worthy of that reputation. I came from the more modest Shimoni Demonstration Primary School. I wondered if I would  make it. I was somewhat lucky—my older brother, Paul, a Form 4 prefect, had already paved the way. That year, 15 boys from Shimoni were admitted, including my closest friend, Edwin Muhumuza, the highest number at the time. Our Form 1 class had about 170 b...
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Goodbye Fred

  I first met Fred Byabagabo about 13 years ago in Rwanda and followed his journey keenly as he rose to the top—becoming a partner at ENS Rwanda and one of the country’s leading corporate lawyers. Beyond his legal practice, Fred also shared his knowledge as a law lecturer, leaving a lasting mark on Rwanda’s legal fraternity. Towards the end of 2021, he joined the Eastern and Southern African Trade and Development Bank (TDB) in Nairobi as Senior Counsel. When I arrived at TDB on February 1, 2024, he was the first person I met in the lobby. He greeted me warmly, hugged me, and introduced me to colleagues as 'his brother from another mother.'  In that moment, I felt instantly at home. Our offices were next to each other. At times, I couldn’t help but overhear him talking as he could be loud. What stood out to me from these moments was how effortlessly he could discuss complex legal concepts in four languages—English, French, Swahili, and Kinyarwanda. Fred was incredibly...
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Balancing Work and Life in the Age of Smartphones

  Back in the prehistoric days of 2010, I was a third-year lawyer, blissfully unaware of the digital wonders that awaited me. My phone of choice? The legendary Nokia 3310, a trusty brick of a device that could survive a nuclear apocalypse. Then one day my firm gifted all of us with BlackBerry smartphones. These devices marked the dawn of the smartphone era in Rwanda.  Their sleek design and innovative features were captivating. One of the standout features was the tiny red blinking light that alerted you to new messages. It may sound basic today, but at that time, it was cutting-edge technology which made us feel like secret agents. I received my BlackBerry during a particularly busy work season. I had a new client in Singapore who was interested in purchasing a company in Rwanda. Singapore is 6 hours ahead of Rwanda, and my client often began emailing me at 9 am Singapore time, which translated to 3 am in Rwanda. Many nights, I found myself awake at this ungodly hour, and tha...
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As I turn 40

Is 40 the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning? I have had many sleepless nights these past few months wondering what the future holds for me as I turn 40. As I turn 40 today, I look back to the dreams I had as a 19 year old. One afternoon   in   my final year at St Mary’s College Kisubi, my 8 Literature classmates and I had an impromptu discussion about our dreams. We all had big, big dreams. Amongst other things I shared that day, I said I wanted to be a big shot criminal lawyer. And I planned to switch to becoming a novelist at around 40. A bit like John Grisham, one of my favourite writers. In my mind by 40, I would also be married   and have 3 kids. Looking back, things did not turn out exactly as planned. I became a business lawyer, I am not about to become abandon law to become a novelist and I am married with 1 kid -for now -). But along the way, there are a few things I am learning;   1.        Your purpo...
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Introverts

  I moved to Rwanda fresh out of school in my 20s. I was keen to make friends and quickly realized that socializing at that age often happened over a drink. So I decided to accompany my brother, Barns, who is more sociable than I am, whenever he met his friends for a drink. At the time, none of us were married or had kids, which meant that we had relatively few responsibilities to worry about. Friday nights were the highlight of the week- we would gather at a small Kiyovu joint from around 5 pm and stay out until the early hours of the morning. There were usually about ten or more of us. At some point, we would relocate to a house party. We mostly discussed business, politics, culture, history, art, sports, relationships and faith. I use “we” loosely since I did most of the listening while the rest of the guys did the talking. Sometimes someone would complain that I was being too quiet to which I had no response. The truth is often times I wanted to chime in but my mind would g...
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