In 2014, Kigali stood as a symbol of Rwanda’s remarkable recovery, a city that had slowly begun to rebuild itself after the horrors of the 1994 genocide. The scars of the past were still visible in the memories of the people, but the city was pulsing with the energy of renewal—new buildings were sprouting, roads were being widened, and Kigali was emerging as the cleanest and most orderly city in East Africa. Yet beneath the shine of progress, there were challenges, particularly in public transport.
The roads in Kigali, although much improved from the years immediately following the genocide, were still far from the smooth, modern highways that the city’s growth demanded. Potholes were common, especially in the more suburban areas. The hilly terrain of the city, with its narrow streets and unpredictable slopes, made maintaining good roads a constant challenge. And public transport, the lifeblood of the city’s daily commuters, was struggling to keep up.
Didier had lived in Kigali his whole life. He had witnessed its transformation firsthand, from the bare-bones rebuilding in the late 1990s to the hustle and bustle of 2014, when the city felt both modern and yet, at times, still on the cusp of change. He had just turned 26, an age when many of his peers had already secured jobs or moved into their own homes. Didier, however, was still finding his footing. He worked at a small office in Nyarutarama, but getting there every day was a logistical nightmare.
Kigali’s public transport, though vital to the city’s economy, was a patchwork of old minivans, rickety buses, and a few privately owned taxis. The buses, most of which had been bought secondhand from other African countries, were unreliable at best. They often broke down in the middle of the road, leaving commuters stranded in the hot sun for hours. And the matatus—small, cramped minibuses—were no better. They were often overcrowded, with passengers jammed shoulder to shoulder, and sometimes they just stopped running altogether, leaving people to find alternative ways home.
On a typical morning, Didier walked to the bus stop near Nyabugogo, the city’s busiest transport hub. The area was chaotic, filled with the sounds of honking horns, shouting conductors, and the constant movement of people. A thick cloud of exhaust fumes hung in the air, mixing with the heat rising off the asphalt. The station was always packed, and it was a struggle to find a bus heading in his direction. Often, passengers were crammed into buses like sardines, with barely enough room to breathe. The journey was uncomfortable at best and, during rush hour, downright miserable.
As Didier stood at the bus stop, waiting for a bus to Kacyiru, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated. The buses were often late, and sometimes they didn’t show up at all. When they did come, they were rarely in good condition. The older buses rattled and shook as they made their way through the streets, the engine sputtering as it struggled to climb the steep hills of Kigali. Potholes made the ride even bumpier, and it wasn’t unusual to see a bus break down in the middle of the road, its passengers forced to wait for hours in the heat until another bus could be sent to pick them up.
The city had made efforts to improve its public transport system. There were occasional calls for investment and reform, but the government faced a significant obstacle: there were no major investors willing to commit to the infrastructure that Kigali so desperately needed. Foreign investors, still hesitant after the genocide, viewed the Rwandan market as unstable, and there was a general reluctance to pour money into public transport when there were so many other urgent needs—education, health, security, and housing.
Didier had read in the newspapers about the government’s plans to improve the transport system. There were talks of modern buses, better roads, and even light rail projects to connect the city. But none of these promises had yet materialized. For now, public transport in Kigali remained a hodgepodge of old vehicles, some barely functioning, and most of them privately owned. The lack of investment in public infrastructure meant that Kigali’s bus network was inefficient and prone to breakdowns. The roads, while being slowly improved, were still insufficient to handle the growing traffic.
The absence of investment wasn’t just a logistical problem—it was a social one. Public transport was vital to many people, especially the poor, who depended on it to get to work or school. But the system was underfunded and poorly maintained, and those who could afford it often chose to drive their own cars or hire private taxis, further exacerbating the inequalities in the city. In the meantime, people like Didier, who had neither the money for a car nor the time to wait around for unreliable buses, were left to navigate the difficult terrain of Kigali’s public transport system.
This morning, Didier was running late for a meeting at his office. He had already missed one bus, and he wasn’t sure when the next one would arrive. He could take a taxi, but that would cost him a small fortune—money he didn’t have. Instead, he decided to wait for a matatu, a shared minibus that could take him to Kacyiru for a more affordable fare.
The matatus were notorious for their lack of comfort. They were often cramped, with passengers wedged together like pieces of luggage. The windows were rolled down in an attempt to cool the stifling air, but the ride was still a sweaty, uncomfortable ordeal. Didier squeezed into one of the rear seats, the car already packed with people. The conductor, a young man with a loud voice, called out to potential passengers as they passed by, hoping to fill the minibus to capacity. The vehicle lurched forward, making its way through the congested streets.
As the minibus navigated Kigali’s hilly roads, Didier couldn’t help but think of the future. He knew the city was changing, but it felt like the public transport system was stuck in the past. While Kigali’s skyline was becoming more modern, its streets were still filled with the noise and chaos of outdated buses and overcrowded matatus. He wondered how long it would take for the city to fully modernize, for the transport system to become as efficient and well-maintained as the new buildings and roads.
It was a complex issue, a result of decades of underdevelopment and the lingering effects of the genocide. Rwanda, though proud of its progress, still faced many challenges, and the lack of investment in public transport was just one of them. Didier’s frustration, however, was tempered by a quiet optimism. Rwanda had risen from the ashes once before, and he believed it would rise again. The road to recovery was long and filled with obstacles, but Kigali, and Rwanda as a whole, had proven time and again that it could face these challenges head-on.
For now, Didier leaned back in his seat and watched the hills of Kigali pass by, the city’s rugged roads beneath the tires of a bus that wasn’t quite ready for the future—but would eventually get
