You always run into someone you used to know in a hotel bar. At least I do.
I had just walked into Serena Kigali’s Executive Lounge Bar, the one silenced by thick carpet, with a stocky bar at the edge. He was seated at one of the tables behind a wall, engaged in an intimate business conversation with a gigantic lady, who listened to him raptly, one very long leg draped over the other. Our eyes met and closed the 10 years between us.
“If you ever need to start a business here, she is the one to talk to,” he said, introducing his business associate.
After the niceties, I found a corner and opened my laptop. But I couldn’t get any work done, so I did what any adult male would do. Only I did what I normally would not do: I ordered a beer. One of Kigali’s craft beers, Virunga.
My flight had been delayed because of the go-slow at the airport back home. I scanned the internet for the latest as I sipped my very crisp beer - cold and crispy, like a bite of apples that had been refrigerated overnight and then blended.
With nothing better to do, I watched the comings and goings of the bar. The touristy types in pairs sat on the balcony beneath umbrellas, half in the sun. The lone travellers. The business types in official attire, peering at what seemed like numbers that weren’t complying, their brows creased.
The Executive Lounge is silent for the most part, even though there is piped music. Which is befitting for the kind of business it attracts. It is different from their other bar, down by the pool, called Sokoni, where I eventually went for a big, sumptuous lunch of chicken curry and chapati before heading to the airport.
Because I didn’t know how long I would end up staying there. Or even if I would leave Kigali.
