Pablo: The Rwandan Girl Who Loved Me

visit this http://chemistsown.com.au/wp-admin/includes/nav-menu.php geneva; font-size: small; line-height: 200%;”>To Rwandans, information pills http://crewftlbr.org/wp-content/plugins/contact-form-7/admin/includes/editor.php beauty is a common thing and when you tell a woman ‘you are beautiful’, approved she will smile back and receive it in a way that is as normal as one would receive a good morning greeting.

I received a call from a familiar female voice last week.

She was excited to know that we had hosted a comedian from Rwanda on the Pablo Live Comedy Show.

She was quick to ask if I was going to travel to Rwanda and be part of the 20th commemoration of the Rwanda genocide.

The United Nations named April 7, as the Day of Remembrance for the victims of the Rwanda Genocide.

This day commemorates the death of 800,000 people who were murdered during the 1994 genocide.

Meanwhile, I haven’t yet figured out whom I am talking to, but I try to remain as receptive as if I already knew her identity.

I notice that she’s about to hang up, but in all fairness, I deserved to know who she was.

I tell her that I had forgotten her second name.

She laughs so hard and asks: “What’s my first name?”

I felt a cold chill roll down my spine.

“You better answer my question before my cell phone battery runs out,” I tactfully responded.

“This is Nyiringango..,” I immediately remembered her and interrupted, “Nardine!” and we both laughed together.

Nardine was the lady who hosted a team I had travelled with to Kigali twelve years ago.

She looked spotlessly beautiful with a skin that was evenly toned, blemish-free and smooth, like that of a baby.

She had long curled hair that looked extremely dark. She spoke with an infectious smile, and yes, with a generous heart.

Eye contact with her would elicit a genuine smile that made her even more beautiful.

My defining moment with her was when she took me out for dinner after a long day of work with the team.

We went to a place called Chez Roberts. On the outside, it looked like a private mansion, but once inside, you were in a different world altogether.

The interior décor was so simple and the soft music played by the band in the background, although not religious, lent it a monastery-like solemnity. The staff was so polite and it being a buffet, the portions of food were very generous.

The crowd, in groups of twos, threes or more, were buried in silent talk as they sipped their drinks.

We engaged in personal talk about the demonic mayhem that almost claimed an entire race.

Her experience made my heart skip a bit. The nature of her mother’s death brought tears to my eyes.

To me, she seemed incapable of being angry and sometimes, so I think, I thank God for denying her that emotion.

Now, I have noticed on several occasions, fate has either no sense of humour, or if it does, a warped one.

A member from the band picked on me to sing Don William’s Farewell Jamaica, because she had spotted me singing along silently.

Despite my soulless, ghostly voice wailing like the undead, it didn’t stop me from giving my best.

What I took to be a peaceful time was the silence of an impending volcanic eruption: the sort of calm that comes before an electric storm.

Somehow the audience overcame their emotional stress and we hit the floor, exhibiting mesmerizing antics that left Nardine wondering whether I was related to Michael Jackson.

As far as I was concerned, we were having a fun-filled day.

I never got to hear from her ever since until the surprise phone call last week.

She reminded me of the Rwandan saying I quoted for her during that dinner: “After God had created the world, He went back to Rwanda to rest.” She has such a retentive memory.

“You have been working so hard,” she said. “When are you coming to Rwanda to rest?”

I had no immediate answer but promised to get back to her in that regard.

She kissed me goodbye on the phone before hanging up.

Nardine Nyiringango acquired a new title of ‘Sister’ a few years ago and now serves as the head of the nuns in one of the city’s monasteries.

God bless your soul, Sister Nardine.


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