Travel Diaries: Kigali, Rwanda — Day 4: Final bites, business & a fond farewell

My final full day in Kigali moved between industry and intimacy — from fashion production floors to traditional Rwandan meals, before the tenderness of departure settled in.

The morning of Day Four arrived quietly, and honestly, I embraced it. After three days of exhilarating activity, my body had made its position on the matter abundantly clear — moments of rest needed to be prioritised. I gave myself exactly what I needed, and stayed in bed until 9:30 a.m. 

After drifting in and out of a sleep-wake state for what felt like hours, I lifted myself out of bed and headed to take a shower. In the shower, I reflected on the past few days, and finally realised why I had fallen in love with Kigali so much. Kigali had done something to me over the past few days that no other city in the world had done thus far. It had given me hope. Kigali is not a place where hope is performed. It is not something observed in speeches or printed on government posters. Instead, it is nurtured and protected by its people. You feel it in the air. You see it in the way young entrepreneurs and creatives position themselves, not just as local stakeholders, but as global players. Rwandans are the true embodiment of the phrase, “keep moving forward”, and in the past few days, I had come to admire that deeply. I appreciated being around them, and learning from them as much as I have.

Today, I am visiting the Pink Mango factory. Maryse Mbonyumutwa, Founder & CEO of Pink Mango and Asantii, had extended a generous invitation to me earlier in the week. As Editor-in-Chief, I do not stop working simply because I am on holiday. If anything, being somewhere new sharpens my business instincts. I decided to pay homage to the factory’s name and popular West African textile with today’s outfit.

Read also: Travel Diaries: Kigali, Rwanda — Day 3: Into the wild & the beautiful game

The daytime fashion

After getting dressed, I made my way down to the RAAVA restaurant for a simple breakfast. I had African tea, of course, eggs, salmon, and toast. Unhurried. Uncomplicated. The African tea, as always, was everything. I sat with it and let the morning settle around me, before heading out to Pink Mango.

Visiting Pink Mango & Asantii

Walking through the doors of Pink Mango Rwanda, I understood immediately why Maryse had built what she built here.

The African fashion industry has always faced a particular, stubborn challenge: the continent produces some of the world’s most exciting design talent, and yet, for decades, the infrastructure to manufacture at scale simply did not exist here. Designers were forced to look outward, to China, to Southeast Asia, to Europe, for production. This adds cost, complexity, and distance to an industry that should, by rights, be rooted in the soil it draws inspiration from. Maryse Mbonyumutwa saw that gap clearly and, thankfully, decided to close it.

Having spent several decades honing her expertise in supply chains and international trade across Europe, China, and Southeast Asia, she turned her attention to Rwanda in 2017 with a specific and ambitious vision: to establish the country as an African hub for global fashion production, and to keep African fashion on African soil. Pink Mango Rwanda was the result. By 2024, her facility was employing over a thousand workers.

Moments at Pink Mango

The factory’s credentials are extraordinary. Pink Mango holds certifications from across the world. They include WRAP from the United States, Sedex/SMETA from the United Kingdom, ICS from France, and a Grade A BSCI rating, the highest achievable. For context, these certifications mean that clothing manufactured here meets the standards required for export to Europe and the United States, which is no small thing for a facility on the African continent. Additionally, the factory holds GRS and RCS certifications for products using recycled fibres and accessories, signalling a commitment to sustainability that goes beyond compliance.

What I found particularly exciting, from a purely editorial standpoint, is the question of minimum order quantities. Many factories in China require MOQs of a thousand pieces or more. This figure is simply inaccessible for small and emerging designers who have the talent and the vision but not the overhead budget to match. Pink Mango’s MOQs are considerably more accessible, which means that the facility is not just serving established fashion houses. It is actively creating entry points for smaller businesses, supporting the kind of grassroots industry growth that changes the shape of an entire sector over time. This is what intra-African trade looks like in practice.

Walking through the facility, the attention to detail at every stage was immediately evident. From draft and pattern through to quality assurance, finishing, and packing, everything is immaculately put together. Nothing was rushed. Nothing was careless. And nothing resembled the exploitative conditions that the word “factory” so often conjures. 

Through her Pink Ubuntu initiative, nursing mothers have access to an onsite nursery where their babies are cared for during working hours. Every member of staff receives a complimentary lunch daily, and on the day I visited, lunch was beans and ugali. Watching the staff sit down to their meal, I felt something stir. I had heard about ugali. I had not yet tried it. I immediately knew I needed to try it before I got on that plane. I asked where I could find some. Repub Lounge, they said. Say less.

Maryse is also the founder of Asantii, a contemporary pan-African fashion brand that celebrates the continent’s heritage, craftsmanship, and sustainability. Where Pink Mango is the infrastructure, Asantii is the expression. It harnesses the collective creativity of more than a dozen designers across Africa, and has attracted buyers from leading concept stores across the continent and in Europe. The pieces are bold, considered, and entirely unambiguous about where they come from and what they stand for. Clean silhouettes anchored by strong graphic elements, typography that commands attention, a colour palette that draws from the earth and the energy of the continent simultaneously.

Moments at Asantii

A proper Rwandan meal at Repub Lounge

After days spent moving between volcanic mountains, luxury lodges, fashion studios, football stadiums, and craft spaces, I wanted to end the trip with something deeply local. Something rooted in the everyday life of the city itself, away from curated experiences and itineraries. So, I made my way to Repub Lounge for a traditional Rwandan meal.

The restaurant itself immediately pulled me in. Blue walls framed by lush greenery, earthy tiled floors, dark wooden beams, and warm amber lighting created an atmosphere that felt deeply relaxing. I much prefer amber lights, as I have always thought bright white lights to be a bit sterile.

The moment I walked in, I burst out laughing because Rema was playing through the speakers. Naija to the world, truly. I found it utterly hilarious and oddly comforting to hear Afrobeats in the middle of Kigali, after spending days immersing myself so fully in Rwanda. To be fair, it was not my first time hearing Afrobeats in the city. I had heard Ayra Starr, Omah Lay, and Davido thus far. I think I was amused because I had walked in to experience Rwanda, but was reminded that Nigeria is never too far away. 

I made my way upstairs, and was greeted by a particularly cheerful man, who immediately made me feel welcome. I let him know that I needed a table for one, and he ushered me to a table on the outer balcony. My table sat overlooking the setting sun, shrouded partly by trees, climbing vines, and flowers. It was beautiful, to say the least.

The entrance at Republic Bar

I ordered cassava ugali, Isombe, Rwandan beans, and the Repub stew with goat. After I placed my order, the cheerful man beamed even more, happy that I was about to have a truly authentic Rwandan experience. I enjoyed the ambience while waiting for the food to be prepared. Roughly 20 minutes later, four steaming bowls were set in front of me.

From the moment the food arrived, I knew it was going to be memorable. The Isombe immediately stood out to me. Rich, fragrant, deeply savoury, it reminded me so much of Owo soup back home in Nigeria. While they do not taste exactly the same, they certainly occupy the same emotional and culinary space. They’re warm, layered, and deeply satisfying. 

The cassava ugali reminded me of Nigerian fufu, although significantly stickier. It was fluffy and earthy in flavour, which made it the perfect foundation for the flavours of the Isombe, Rwandan beans, and goat stew. The beans were certainly a surprise because I would not think to eat it with anything much like ugali, but it added significant richness and depth to the plate. And the goat stew. My goodness. There is certainly a reason GOAT is now a popular acronym for “Greatest of All Time”. What a stew.

The food at Republic Bar

In enjoying myself, I got a little too carried away, and nearly forgot to take a picture for my travel diaries. Thankfully, I remembered just after I finished the first half of each meal — I had divided each meal into equal portions. 

Around me, the restaurant buzzed with conversation in Kinyarwanda, the indigenous language of Rwanda. At one point, I found myself thoroughly entertained by a group of Arabic-American girls nearby who were loudly dissecting parasocial relationships with the seriousness of political commentators. I tried not to listen, and yet, I failed completely.

Moments at Republic Bar

By the time I left Repub Lounge, I felt completely satisfied. A chauffeur from Mövenpick Kigali drove me back to the hotel, where I would begin preparations for my flight back to Lagos. On my way back, I was thankful to have ended my holiday at The  Repub Lounge. Between the warm food, lively conversation, I felt full — in heart and belly.

My final night at Mövenpick Kigali

I returned to Mövenpick Kigali that evening with a strange mixture of fullness and longing. Kigali had done something profound to me over the course of those few days. I had fallen deeply for the country. I was deeply moved by its softness, its discipline, its beauty, and the generosity of its people. Even now, thinking back on it, I can still picture the hills unfolding endlessly into one another. The eucalyptus trees lining the roads, and the warmth of the African tea at breakfast. The sound of vuvuzelas at Amahoro Stadium, and the impossible stillness of the silverback mountain gorillas deep in the volcanic rainforest. Rwanda had settled into me completely.

And yet, alongside that sadness at leaving, there was also deep gratitude for the life waiting for me back home in Lagos. My family. My friends. My partner, whom I love very dearly. One of my favourite things about travelling is how it teaches you to be open to experiences, without worry of endings. Loving one place does not diminish your love for another. The heart expands to accommodate both. You can fall in love with a city thousands of miles away and still ache for home at the same time. And for me, that is the real beauty of travel. The discovery that the world is far larger, warmer, and more emotionally expansive than you could have ever imagined. 

Read also: Travel Diaries: Kigali, Rwanda — Day 2: Fashion, craft, and the pulse of the city

And perhaps even more beautifully, travel gives you things to anticipate. New places to dream about with genuine excitement. A romantic holiday with my partner in Paris, staying at the Sofitel Paris Baltimore Tour Eiffel. Wandering through Greece in the summer heat. Exploring Thailand. Returning to Rwanda itself someday, with my partner, older and different, carrying even more life inside me than I do now.

The evening unfolded very quietly after that. I packed slowly, carefully folding everything back into my suitcase and checking repeatedly to make sure I had not forgotten anything in Kigali. Though honestly, even then, I already knew I would be back someday — and not because I had left something behind.

Bags packed and travel outfit laid out, I allowed myself, for one final time, to let the day go. I cosied into the bed of my now dearly beloved room on the sixth floor of Mövenpick Kigali, and drifted into a soft sleep.

Until next time, Kigali

And before I knew it, it was morning again. The final morning on my first trip to Kigali. 

Before the rush of checkout, airport security, and boarding gates, I stood by the window of my room on the sixth floor one last time. Looking out, I felt my heart leap for the city that had held me so beautifully over the past few days. The same lush hills stretched outward beneath the morning light, softer now than they had been on that first night when I arrived. Even the room itself, with its deep green accents and warmth, felt strangely sentimental now. Familiar. Lived in.

There is something strangely intimate about leaving a hotel room after a meaningful trip. You arrive as a visitor, but over time, traces of your life begin to settle into the space. Clothes draped over chairs. Skincare spread across bathroom counters. Jewellery abandoned beside the bed after long days outside. And then, one morning, you wake up and slowly undo all evidence of yourself. You fold everything back into suitcases, zip them shut, and prepare to leave the room as you found it.

Checkout was smooth, and before long, we were making the drive back through Kigali towards the airport. The city felt different now. Not because Kigali itself had changed, but because I had. Roads that had once felt unfamiliar now felt recognisable. Certain buildings had become markers in my memory. Even the hills themselves no longer felt distant or abstract to me. Kigali no longer felt like a place I had simply passed through. It felt lived in.

Final moments in Kigali

At the airport, I picked up a few bars of Snickers and Bounty chocolate for my partner from duty free. It felt important to bring something home with me beyond photographs and stories. Something small and thoughtful. Something he could unwrap while I told him about the volcanic mountains, the gorillas, the football match, and all the unexpected ways Rwanda had worked its way into my heart.

And maybe that is the real beauty of travel. Not simply seeing new places, but allowing yourself to be changed by them. Allowing parts of yourself to remain behind while carrying pieces of those places forward with you into the rest of your life.

Kigali had already given me far too much for that. Beauty. Tenderness. Exhaustion. Perspective. Extraordinary food. New friendships. Moments of stillness and wonder that I know will stay with me for a very long time.

Until next time, Kigali. You are in my heart.

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