“ It’s not just a poetry night,” Uwase Belinda Ines, also known as moonchild_Bee, said repeatedly into the microphone. I settled into my usual spot by the indoor swimming pool at CocoBean, my new Wednesday routine underway.
Belinda, the author of “Daring The Sun To Love Me” and the host of Open Mic Weno (OMW), hadn’t taken the stage yet, but the flicker off her phone hinted at the lineup of artists scheduled to perform in the evening’s show.
There, luncheons of people slithered in and filled chairs overlooking the bowl of blue and red disco and springing lights directly above two sets of microphones, a guitar, and anticipation. As Belinda stepped onto the stage, her abridged introduction to Open Mic Weno went like this: “When you come on here, you literally have the platform, the space, time and attention from everyone here… so you can share whatever you have on your chest. Whether it’s sorrow, pain, or joy. So everything is ‘really really’ welcome on this stage.”
One by one, performers graced the stage with their daring cloth of words in the form of poems, songs, and stories (myself included), in-between sets of jokes and reflective pauses guided by the host herself. When Belinda finished high school in 2011, one of her first live performances was at the Spoken Word Rwanda monthly event.
She’d grounded herself into poems and wanted, for better or worse, to share them with people. At the time, that was the only space to do so. Today, she hosts a fresh, one-of-a kind open mic spectacle.
This weekly sensation has accounted for the most weekday hangouts, date nights, and stress relief among young people. More so, it has evolved into the ultimate hub for artists of all kinds and skills to hone their craft in front of an audience eager for a good time.
But how did the Open Mic Weno come to be? For that, we have to frame back to October 2023, when the event organisers and party instrumentalists, ‘Hot Tempah Collective’, sought Belinda with a proposal.
Hottempah – the renowned curators who’ve captivated Kigali’s nightlife – carefully evaluated the Rwandan art scene, having been part of it themselves, and recognized a significant gap: the celebration of talents outside of music.
“Young artists were approaching us requesting to perform at our events to get some exposure, but due to many reasons, we could not accommodate all of them,” a Hottempah spokesperson clarified. “Hence came the idea of creating a platform that welcomes everyone and gives them an opportunity, exposure, and a chance to practise and perfect their craft.”
Their idea was based on the observation that musicians in the country had more opportunities and platforms – concerts and shows – to showcase their talents. Whereas emerging creatives of a different calibre rarely had spaces to shine. To mend the crack, and with the backing of Cocobean, Hottempah Collective decided to carve out spaces for young artists to thrive.
“Our primary mission was to give a platform to young emerging artists,” reiterated Belinda. The noble intention behind this seemed to suggest their devout ambition to replicate, to a large extent, what Spoken Word Rwanda had done for Belinda: putting her through the doors of fame and in the faces of people.
“I hate the word ‘exposure,’ but this space allows creatives to be noticed and recognised for their work. And we’re fortunate to have the best audience ever.” The free event has been running for months, offering an adamant and welcoming night of cherished prose, music and chilly nocturnal ambiences.
As somewhat of a regular attendee, my eyes have beheld the likes of poet Brian Bazimya, singer Tania Rugamba, foreigners and locals, and many more gracing the stage. The effervescent topics I’ve avidly listened to – albeit not always to my taste – include love, toxic relationships, sex, and the occasional labrador of pain in some shape or form.
The overarching message I gathered is that Open Mic Weno aims to create a laid-back environment where performers inspire each other.
Seeing writers confidently take the stage encourages others to overcome their hesitations and dive back into writing, producing more work, and eventually, performing. “We curate our events with music, DJs and drinks. With all that energy and lack of pressure, people feel free to open up, to find the audience is understanding and patient with them, and that gives them confidence,” Belinda told me.
Indeed, this might explain why the organisers chose the dimly lit rooms of a nightclub as the event’s location.
If we’re to see the Rwandan writing industry grow, spaces like these are paramount in shaping the future of the artistry. Even as the host, Belinda finds value in continually refining her performance skills during the brief moments she holds the microphone, if not ‘bullied’ into performing one of her poems.
“We are an open community supporting all artists who are ready to share their talents with us,” Hottempah’s spokesperson continued, “Why not even have a night where we invite painters and dancers to join us?”
A succinct testament to this belief came in April as Rwanda commemorated for the 30th time the souls that perished in the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. Open Mic Weno, through “Digital Kwibuka,” organised a special open mic session centred around the theme ‘Kwibuka.’
With sensitivity at the forefront, art and prose were at the heart of honouring the memory of those lost. Even young people who have no direct memory of those dark days could channel pain off their parents or relatives, or the stories of survivors, and express themselves through poetry and storytelling, offering comfort to listeners.
“It warms my heart to know that we now have a platform where we can contribute to national dialogues through art and the artists who choose to share their pieces on our stages,” Belinda said.
In my final question to Belinda and Hottempah, I asked about their ultimate goal for the platform they created. I wondered whether, in the future, they might consider charging for access to the indelible mark and dexterity of those who uphold a canon of the artistry – because payment is appreciation in this world.
I also wanted to know whether Open Mic Weno would stay alive if either of them became ‘too big’ to find the time or if Belinda envisions the artists’ exposure translating into sales. The two-parter of an answer started like this:
“People already get some exposure here, as their books get bought and their music streamed,” replied Belinda. “But we believe that it can get bigger and better. We want to become a bridge for artists to reach their full potential, and together with the Collective, we are looking for ways to achieve that.”
For Hottempah Collective, their dream is to see, in 10 or 20 years, prominent Rwandan artists crediting their achievements to performing at Open Mic Weno in their interviews. “Instead of us becoming too big for Open Mic Weno, we want it to be bigger than us. To become a movement, to become a monument. A culture. So that when HC or Belinda are gone, Open Mic Weno will continue for many years,” they said, adding: “Money is not the target right now. We are still working on building trust with artists and the audience.”
The efforts of Belinda and Hottempah Collective rest on a bedrock of some inexhaustible faith in an art form that is perpetually maligned, ignored, misunderstood and growing extinct. But for those who breathe the art’s oxygen — writers, stand-up comedians, traditional singers and painters of the world — Open Mic Weno has been the go-to for lovers of the flair, and it gives us hope in the future, against the void distilled in the arena of youthful litterateurs.
Belinda’s last words to me came as she hurried back on stage. “Do I put you on the list to perform?” she asked — as if I would ever say no.
