She Wasn’t a “She”

Kigali after dark is different. It’s cleaner and quieter than other big cities, but by 9:00 PM on a Friday, the hills around Kimihurura start to pulse with conversation and music. The lighting is always just dim enough to make everything look like a dream or a trap.

Most people leave high school thinking they are finally adults who can't be fooled. But if you’ve ever been eighteen, freshly finished with national exams, and convinced your “cool kid” act makes you invincible, this story is for you. It’s a lesson in the dangers of the Kigali night, and it all started with a phone call at 8:00 PM.

It was a Friday, and we had just finished our final Senior 6 exams the day before. Prince called me, hyped up and ready to celebrate the end of our school life. I wasn't really into it I was on a three-month alcohol-free streak and just wanted to chill. But Prince kept pushing, and as a good friend, I agreed to escort him to SUD Kigali.

SUD is one of those hot spots in Kimihurura with a heated pool and a lively bar. It’s where people go to play the part of being rich and unbothered. I didn't know then that by 2:00 AM, our nonchalant defense system would completely fail.

Part One: The Snapchat Feed

I caught up with Prince and the rest of the crew around 10:00 PM. By the time I arrived, they already had "one in their body" the pregame was long over, and they were moving on vibes alone.

We found a spot near the DJ. The music was loud, and the neon lighting was that specific purple shade that makes everyone look like a 10/10. The boys started collecting money for the next bottle, but I wasn't spending a coin; I was on Prince's pocket for the night.

The bottles came and the shots started pouring. But before anyone actually drank, we followed the sacred rule of our generation: Feed the Snapchat streaks before you feed yourselves. Flashlights were on and phones were up, documenting the "luxury" for everyone else to see.

As the shots kept coming, the social energy hit its peak. Even though I wasn't drinking, I was feeling the high. Being a loyal man, whenever I feel that way, the first person I think about is my girlfriend. I even told the boys, "Let’s get another round and drink for my girl."

While I was being a romantic, Prince disappeared into the crowd.

Part Two: The Gate and the Girlfriend

I went on a hunt to find him. I finally saw him near the gate, talking intensely to someone on a phone. I assumed it was a girl and walked up to tease him, but it was just his cousin who is my homegirl too. We talked for a bit and then headed back inside to the DJ's area because the party was just getting started.

We had more shots, and that’s when another friend pulled me aside. He said his girlfriend was at the same location because she saw my Snapchat story and wanted to meet me.

I went back to the gate to find her. We stood there talking for about 15 minutes, catching up on life. While we were talking, Prince came running up to me. He didn't just look happy; he looked like he had discovered fire. He was glowing. He pulled me close.

"Kelly," he whispered, grinning from ear to ear. "I just came from kissing the most beautiful girl."

I was confused. "Your girl isn't even here, Prince. How is that possible?"

He told me he saw our friend MG kiss a random person on the dance floor and decided he had to have a turn too. He pointed toward the crowd at someone in a bright red shirt.

"Look, that one in the red shirt," he said, waiting for me to be impressed.

Part Three: The Bass and the Men’s Room

I didn't cheer. I didn't give him a high five.

I just started laughing. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. I leaned against the wall, clutching my stomach, while Prince stood there like I had lost my mind.

"Prince," I finally gasped out. "You just kissed a dude."

He didn't believe me. He actually got annoyed, thinking I was just being sarcastic and roasting him for no reason. But I knew the truth because of what happened earlier that night.

When I first arrived at SUD, two regular friends of mine pulled me aside while I was still sober. They pointed at the person in the red shirt and warned me: "Kelly, no matter how drunk you get tonight, do not approach that person. He isn't a girl."

I couldn't believe it at first. You really couldn't tell. From the hair to the outfit to the way he moved if you put him next to our Miss Rwanda contestants, you would probably choose him. But I like to confirm things for myself, so I had walked up to "her" earlier.

I said hi, and the shock hit me instantly. The voice that came out had a deeper bass than mine. To confirm it even further, ten minutes later, I watched "her" walk straight into the men's toilets. My friends told me they almost took him home before they realized the situation.

I was safe because I was a loyal man with a girlfriend. Prince, however, was currently sharing a tongue with a man in a red shirt.

Part Four: The 3:00 AM Crash

When I told Prince the details the voice, the bathroom, the warning he crashed.

He went from the happiest guy in Kimihurura to wanting to start a war. He was furious and started talking about fighting him or pushing him into the pool.

As a good friend, I had to stop him. If he started a fight, he would end up being dragged out like a street kid (imbobo). It would ruin his reputation and our night. I called MG and the others over, and they eventually admitted the same thing had happened to them. They were all in the same boat.

Prince tried to calm down, but the vibe was dead. He couldn't "partake" (kubyakira) anymore. He couldn't even look at the DJ booth without feeling sick.

I decided it was time to leave. We got him home so he could process the trauma. I played the supportive friend the whole way back, keeping a straight face until he was safe inside. But as soon as the adrenaline died down, the sarcasm came back.

"So, Prince," I said, as the boys gathered around. "What does it feel like when your tongue and another man’s tongue touch? Was the red shirt worth it?"

He didn't say a word. He just sat on the couch, staring at his shoes in silence.

Finally, he looked up at me. "Kelly," he said quietly. "You have to write this story on Substack. People need to know. They need to know that some of these Kigali 'girls' covering themselves in the night are not what they seem."

Kigali is a small city, but the surprises are huge.

What would you have done if you were in Prince's shoes at 3:00 AM?