A capital that whispers. Coffee, hills, and a memorial that asks for time.
Kigali is orderly in a way that startles after Nairobi’s improvisation. Motorcycle taxis tick between hills. I spent a morning at the memorial and an afternoon pretending I had errands in Kimihurura so I could sit with a notebook.
This is not a city you consume. It is a city you lower your voice in. I left with coffee beans and a revised idea of what a capital can sound like.