Africa’s cleanest city
poverty. Actually, it shows them other legal opportunities.”
The city is growing, quickly. There were 1.3-million people living in Kigali in 2015 — nearly four times higher than the 358000 in 1996. By 2030, that number is expected to reach three million.
Informal street trading blocked traffic and caused public hygiene issues, said Rangira. Some of the traders could actually be thieves and how could you ever really tell whether the food you were buying had expired?
More exactly, hawking contributed nothing to the city purse.
“It kills legit business,” said Rangira. “They are competing with other business that are paying taxes, that are operating in a legitimate way … we need to widen the tax base to increase revenues but also to give more services to all the city residents.”
The markets the city had built after Uwamohoro’s death were easily accessible and in busy areas, said Rangira. Two of them were in Nyabugogo, near the bus station where she was killed: “For any business person, that is a dream location.”
‘She was a friend’
“If you’re being arrested every week, eventually you will get tired and come in the market,” said Jeanne*, from behind a table stacked with fruit.
“How many times have you been arrested?” I asked.
“I lost count,” she laughed.
Profits, she conceded, were down. You didn’t have to pay taxes on the streets. Her spot in the market, on the other hand, cost her 5 500 francs a month, about R80. Profits came in at 1 500 francs — R22.
But other than that?
“It’s much better here,” Jeanne said. “You can’t compare.”
I asked about Uwamohoro. Had they known her? Several women across the market shouted out. Of course they had known her. She was a friend.
“And what do you think of what happened to her?”
One of the sellers shrugged: “Better to die when you’re doing business and making money than when you’re sleeping at home.”
You can see just about all of Kigali from the house where Uwamohoro lived, high up on a hilltop above the city.
Up here, the road was still dirt, the houses still free of the red, spraypainted X that in so many of the informal areas around Kigali signalled impending demolition.
“We’re all from the countryside,” said neighbour Clarissa*. She was also once a street trader, but gave it up some time after her sixth arrest. It was too painful being away from her children, not knowing whether her family knew where she was, when she would be back.
The neighbours couldn’t tell you much about Uwamohoro. She left in the early mornings and came home late at night.
But she lived peacefully. She was nice. Her kids were nice — two girls, a toddler and an infant. Everybody called the eldest “Baby”. They never knew the name of the youngest. She died.
Uwamohoro’s husband took Baby and left — probably back to the countryside, the neighbours said, but nobody knew for sure.
Had Uwamohoro been arrested before as well?
“Of course,”
“Everyone was.”
Clarissa stayed at home now and looked after her children while her husband worked in the city carrying people’s shopping bags to their cars. If he made enough in a day, the family ate that night. If not, they didn’t.
Better life
said
Clarissa. In April last year, Nyamulinda stepped down as mayor of Kigali, citing personal reasons.
In May, development studies expert Marie-chantal Rwakazina won an election to replace him.
In September, President Paul Kagame pardoned Victoire Ingabire, an outspoken critic who had been behind bars since 2010.
In October, a new penal code banned “humiliating” cartoons of the authorities.
Outside Uwamohoro’s home, high above the city, a boy flicked a football over his head. A passing motorbike kicked up a cloud of dust. Clarissa scrubbed a pot in a plastic basin.
Below, the sun glinted off glass: the M-peace Plaza, the Bank of Kigali, the city hall.
“When we came to town, we thought life would be better here,” said Clarissa.
“But a couple of years ago I realised it was better in our home village. When we go back now, it’s shameful. People there now have a better life than us.”
*Not their real names
The reporting for this article was supported by a grant from the International Women’s Media Foundation’s African Great Lakes reporting initiative