“Homosexuality is a sickness” “The Western gay movement gives money to Africans to make as if they are gay” “African gays are heterosexual men and women who want to live in Europe” “How can you get married in the first place, have children and then turn gay? I don’t believe it!”
 
Sometimes I hear very surprising statements in Rwanda, at least in my eyes. Here I am with some energetic twenty-year olds in a bar in Kigali and my mouth suddenly drops open.

Sophie van Leeuwen

Sophie van Leeuwen is a journalist at RNW's Africa department. She is currently travelling through Rwanda and will be updating us on her stories in the weeks to come.

“My friend has two ex-girlfriends, who are now lesbian,” I begin to say. Even I get stared at in disbelief. "Then you will turn gay too!” This provokes some shouting in the bar. "That can happen," I nod.

I decide to add some more spice. Did you know that some Dutch politicians participate in the annual Gay Pride, our national gay party? Shaking their heads in total surprise, my new friends ask : "What kind of stupid country do you live in?"

Kayonga
Villages, plantations, cyclists, people in search of something, all zooming past. Children waving. The taxi driver and I exchange some facts about our lives. We are of the same age, 32 years old. Kayonga is married, Catholic and has two daughters of 5 and 3. And me? Not married, no children. Maybe my boyfriend and I will go for a civil partnership when I get home from Rwanda.

Kayonga screams: “A civil partnership! A contract! Is it for life?”

“Uh ... I think so,” I say hesitantly. “Unless you tear the contract. But I hope not.

“Why don’t you get married?” asks Kayonga. I scratch myself again behind the ear. “In the Netherlands we are not concerned with traditions ...”

Kayonga stays silent and focuses on the road.

“It is good that you are a Catholic,” he says. I nod. I dare not mention that last year I bid farewell to the Roman Church. Three official letters later to the Catholic authorities, quite a hassle. I don’t believe in God anymore. Whatever!

“Will you drive?” Kayonga suddenly asks with shining eyes. “Me? Here? Now?” He parks his white Toyota on the roadside and waits for a reaction. Half a minute later I am sitting behind the wheel – which is on the right side by the way- and I am tearing through the green hills of Rwanda, on the winding roads, leaving a trail of red dust behind me. Kayonga looks happy. “You're a good driver. But don’t drive too fast!”
 

Read more about my trip to Rwanda in the coming weeks.
Any questions? Something you’d like me to find out? Let me know via www.twitter.com/RNWAfrica