Irakabiri

Chapter Six

The weeks that followed the small get-together at Zuba's house where eventful to say the least. She spent more and more time with Mr.Gihu and less effort in hiding their situationship whether it was at work or outside. It did not come as a shock to many employees at the BNetwork. Butoyi called Zuba out on the reckless behavior,

"What exactly are you trying to achieve in advertising your little escapades? His house is on fire right now and everyone is talking," Butoyi said.

"Since when do you care what people think or say. I am not advertising shit B, it's not my fault that some people have nothing better to do than minding other people's business?"

"Well, you sure as hell ain't trying to conceal nothing."

When Zuba avoided meeting up with Butoyi, giving special instructions to the housekeeper to not let anyone inside the house; the next call came from Kwezi with a similar message,

"Sis, you are moving too fast and you'll end up hurt. The man is married, and he isn't leaving his wife for you."

"Can't y'all just let me be. When you have something else to talk to me about, let me know"

"Also, just so you know, Mr.Gihu has been talking all sort of shit behind your back claiming he basically made you who you are today and used other not so nice words to describe you."

Zuba shut everyone out and spent her week days at work and weekends alone or with Mr.Gihu. What no one knew was that she would go home every night and drink herself to sleep grieving her grandmother who had been sick around the same time a few years back prior to her passing. There was only one way to cope with such times and for Zuba it was rejecting anything that looked or felt like family and having her close friends see her in such a vulnerable state was not going to happen.

When Mr.Gihu started cancelling plans with Zuba last minute, she was forced to realize how deep she had dug her own hole with the affair. One Thursday night when Zuba was on her third glass of wine, she booked a Bujumbura-Kigali flight for the following day. When Friday came, and she realized what she had done the night before, she called off work and packed for the weekend. She made a reservation at the Hotel Beau Sejour in the morning and got her hair and nails done.

A few hours later, Zuba was aboard Rwandair and the flight attendant was serving a light dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes. She announced landing in twenty minutes and Zuba stared through the window at the billion lights anxious of what this trip would do to her. She had left Bujumbura without notifying anyone and so no pep talk could appease her nerves at this moment. With her Rwandan passport and her Burundian accent, Zuba was questioned by the immigration officer on her last visit to Rwanda. Her passport was full of other East African countries stamps but her native country.

"When was the last time you set foot on this soil?" The immigration officer asked.

"Been a while for sure." Zuba replied.

The officer then looked to his colleague and said, "Let's see how long she stays in her home country. This new generation is always posting about how proud they are to be Rwandan and yet are tweeting from outside of the country. What a mess!"

Zuba tried to not show her irritation and finally made it to the taxi that drove her to her hotel. A lot had changed since the early 2000s such as the well-built roads and solar powered street lights. It was surely a country to be proud of and she regretted missing its milestones. She guessed It missed her little achievements too such as her high school and college graduations, the reunion with her father, the inheritance after he passed away, her first job out of school (BNetwork president being her father's bestfriend and Mr.Gihu's uncle), her first love, and more. Zuba hoped the two days in Kigali would be enough to catch-up with the now-vibrant city.