Earlier today, I had an exhilarating ride from Nyaruguru to Huye. I am spending a night at Barthos Hotel—a modest establishment bordering the University of Rwanda.
From the balcony of my room, I watch the steady stream of students weaving in and out of the main gate. It is a dynamic rhythm that never quite slows down. The nearest hostel is close enough to peep through its windows.
As the sun dips beyond the rooftops, I leave the comfort of my room and step out to explore. As I wander through the streets surrounding the campus, I soak in the pulse of a university neighborhood at its liveliest. Most of the businesses in the vicinity are eateries—vibrant, fast-paced, and fully packed with hungry students.
It is peak hour for food vendors. Tables are crammed, and steam is rising from aluminum pots. Every step reveals a new pocket of campus culture. I watch groups of friends sharing jokes, couples whispering in corners, soccer fans debating a weekend fixture, and no-nonsense chaps quietly flipping through notes as they eat.
I am not just a passerby. I feel plugged into something—a brief immersion into the dynamic rhythm of university life. My nosy-self can’t help but categorize the students I am observing: the lovebirds lost in each other, the clowns goofing around, and the bookworms on a mission to graduate with honors.
When I finally return to the hotel, I have dinner and go straight to bed, grateful for the energy and stories buzzing around me. Tomorrow holds a new promise: a trip to Gisagara, the only district in Rwanda I have never visited. I can't wait.