I sniffed the air as I waited in line to deplane, wondering if any of that Rwandan smell had wafted in. I’d read again and again that Rwandan air had a unique scent; it was a heavy, damp, indescribable musk. A month later, as I left my home in Kigali with a full view of the airport, I watched a plane touch down. The sight of it had me curiously tasting the air again, but this time, the air seemed like the air anywhere. Had the air ever smelled differently, or was this one more thing I’d imagined from my family home in suburban Virginia and discovered was untrue?
To prepare for my studies in Rwanda, I poured over journals, newspaper articles, and every book I could get my hands on. I read about the 1994 genocide, but I was particularly focused on modern-day, post-genocide politics. A consensus quickly emerged among scholars and journalists familiar with modern Rwandan politics: President Paul Kagame is a dictator. He has rigged elections, cracked down on free speech, and rammed through a constitutional amendment allowing him to serve an extra term. Someone warned me to be careful in what I chose to research because the government might track me down if it was too sensitive a topic and destroy my computer. I thought this seemed like a bit of an exaggeration, but then, all of the literature did suggest that Kagame’s tyrannical regime could be capable of such a thing. I did not yet know then what I would be researching, but I crossed off a long list of topics just to be safe.
So, I knew what to expect going in. I would have to keep political conversations quiet, if I had them at all. I certainly didn’t want to bring up politics with the Rwandan family hosting me and potentially get them in trouble. But to my surprise, within a few nights, we were gathered around the TV, where they pointed to different leaders and raved about why they admired them. President Kagame, in particular,r received most of their praise. They lauded his anti-corruption efforts, the stunning comeback of the Rwandan economy since 2000, and said they hoped they could amend the constitution again so he could remain in office even longer. I was taken aback, but then, my host father was a former soldier in the Rwandan Patriotic Front (or RPF, a group of refugees which Paul Kagame led to victory over the genocidal Hutu Power government in 1994, putting an end to the genocide). Of course, my host father would support the general he’d served under, and it didn’t surprise me that my host mother and siblings had adopted his views. It was a valuable piece of information, and not one that I necessarily discarded. I tucked it away as not wholly representative of the country. A footnote, really, of a rare dissenter.
And then I visited a TIG camp. Short for Travail d’Interet General, TIG camps are work camps where convicted genocide perpetrators serve out their sentences. Most spend some time in jail and complete the remainder of their sentence in TIG. I had the opportunity to speak with around fifty members of a TIG camp about their experiences both pre- and post-genocide. Of anyone, these people had the most reason to hate President Kagame. The RPF had committed long, covered-up atrocities against many innocent Hutus, arguably in retaliation for the genocide against the Tutsis. Some of them even admitted that family members or friends had been the victims of this violence. And now, twenty-three years on from the genocide, they were in a work camp performing heavy manual labor and most would not get out for at least another few years. But what they had to say about President Kagame was this: he is the perfect President for Rwanda and the leader they need. His administration is committed to reintegrating perpetrators and accomplices to the genocide and reconciling the entire population. Once the perpetrators I spoke with complete their sentences and are released from TIG, they expect to be fully accepted as members of their home communities. There is no question of whether members of their hometowns will forgive them or if they will be eligible to find work. It is a given that life will go on as it did for them pre-genocide.
I wondered, stunned, how they could so deeply admire President Kagame despite his and their circumstances. But a sentiment they often reiterated was that he’s doing what must be done. That’s something I have heard over and over again in Rwanda, from motorcycle drivers to strangers at the market to academic lecturers. He’s doing what must be done.
Most Rwandans I have spoken with are under the impression that there must be some undemocratic restrictions placed on them for now, such as a ban on all kinds of hate speech and on certain political parties because political genocide ideology persists despite efforts to eradicate it. Most continue to endorse Kagame, and believe the constitutional amendment that is allowing him to serve a third term passed not because of any kind of fraud, but because the vast majority of people truly want him to remain in power. They can’t imagine a Rwanda without Kagame when he has brought so much stability and slowly expanded their democratic institutions over time, even if it does not appear that way from a Western lens. And so, the Rwandans I have interviewed expect to slowly migrate towards a conventionally freer society, but not immediately. It’s a slow process and it has been at work since Kagame took office in 2000. They’re okay with that.
“Peace is what we want,” said one Rwandan I spoke with, “And President Kagame is a peaceful man. He is very, very clever, and that is why we like him in Africa. We are not like America. We do not say all the things we think in our minds or write them in our newspapers like in America, but we are happy. If I can vote for President Kagame again, I will do that. We will be like in America someday if Kagame wants to stay and be President.”
Every time I recall the fantasy I had of breathing in that unique Rwandan scent, I am forced to recognize that everything I thought I knew was wrong. At the very least, it was woefully misguided. There might not really be a Rwandan smell, and Paul Kagame might not really be the despot I expected. Not a democratic leader or one necessarily to be lauded. Not one free of corruption by any means. But, perhaps, not the Putin or the Gaddafi I anticipated. Not one in power against the will of the masses, clinging to power through brute force.
In the West, we have a tendency to label anything that doesn’t ascribe to a typically Western pattern of doing things as corrupt. We view most African leaders as dictators. To us, Kagame is a tyrant rigging the system in his favor. When someone receives an overwhelming majority of the vote, we often assume that must mean corruption is afoot. Certainly, sometimes it is, but not always. From a fancy university office on the East Coast, it’s easy to ignore the popular sentiments of the people and realize maybe it is possible that someone legitimately won a shocking 90-some percent of the vote. Even in the literature on Rwanda or rare mentions in the media, we imply there is something wrong with Kagame. We refer to his regime rather than his administration, words that carry heavy implications. Imagine the Obama regime versus the Obama administration or the Trump regime versus the Trump administration. There is a sinister undertone to the word “regime” that academics and journalists are well aware of.
I guess what I mean to say is this: every time we look at Africa we see it imperfectly. Even when we see it correctly, we use it to reinforce existing stereotypes about the entire continent instead of evaluating each of the fifty-four countries independently. Rwanda is not Uganda or Egypt or Nigeria or South Africa or any other African countries you might be able to name, and vice versa. It is deeply unfair of us as consumers of the news, and especially as producers, to make assumptions when we do not understand the full context of a place. It is something to bear in mind in the age of fake news, though that horse has already been beaten to death. Every time we view African politics, or the politics of any place, through a Western lens, we are discounting the opinions and experiences of millions if we are not careful.
I, at least, am trying to be better. I am trying to think of everything in terms of Rwandan air now. Sure, I know what it’s supposed to smell like. But does it really?