The first time I met her,
She sat across the table,
With her exotic eyes,
and perhaps the brightest smile,
Like the morning sunshine.
It was A random moment,
A moment of happiness,
drinks and meals on the table,
friends,
new and old Merry,
IT WAS A BLESSING.
Dining and talking,
UP in Nyamirambo in Kigali,
The city of the genocide,
The city of rebirth,
The symbol of failure,
Kigali; that ray of reconciliation,
and STATEMENT OF HOPE,
and of dignity.
At the Indian restaurant,
Down by the corner to Sun City,
In the troughs of the valley,
Where the sun sets,
Amazingly,
Quietly,
daily.
I got her first name,
And gave her CUTE as the second one,
I asked her number,
I saved it under CUTE.
IT was the wrong number,
A lost connection.
But Kigali sets things straight,
And in Kigali there's talk,
Talking up and down,
In the highlands of East Africa,
Words walk.
Across valleys and mountains,
where the People meet.
With the fake telephone number,
she disappeared,
Just like a winning lottery ticket,
Worlds separated us,
But the souls didn't.
Facebook connected us,
Again,
As friends!
In a perfect world,
We would be in a ‘relationship.’
And the world is not perfect,
But friendship can be perfect.
KAGAME.
