Dutarame Kigali: When legacy revealed itself in two minutes

November 2025 KIGALI – We arrived at the BK Arena to find the show already in full swing, the air electric with the sound of drums and a crowd of 7,000. It was November 22, the Feast of Saint Cecilia, the patron saint of musicians, and the City of Kigali was holding a vast celebration of Rwandan tradition called Dutarame Kigali. We had missed the official opening by Kigali’s Mayor and the early performances from local community groups. The five-hour marathon was a masterclass in cultural vitality, but its immortal soul would arrive later, in two unscripted minutes that none of us will forget.

We caught 2025’s music sensation, Boukuru, mid-set. With stunning visuals behind her, dressed in an all-white elegant ensemble by Maison Munezero, her structural Amasunzu hairstyle completed a look of pure intention. Her voice, a powerful instrument that moved from deep resonance to crystal clarity, carried the clear echoes of her bigggest vocal inspirations, the runs of Mariah Carey, the soulful power of Whitney Houston, all filtered through the foundational grace of Rwandan greats like Cécile Kayirebwa and Kamaliza. She held the stage with a calm authority, fully connecting with every corner of the audience.

Then Teta Diana stepped onto the stage as a living symbol, barefoot, with thick short braids pulled back, a little golden dress shimmering under the lights. She carried an Inkoni (cane) and Agacuma (calabash), a microphone in the other hand, the very definition of demure power incarnate. Her voice, tender yet controlled, felt like a reminder that heritage is not nostalgia; it is a pulse still beating.

The energy went right up with Ruti Joël who truly tore a portal in the night. His performance carried the intensity of a young artist fully anchored in tradition yet fluent in contemporary sound. He jumped, ran, danced, and flipped with breathtaking athleticism, all while controlling his breath to deliver ancient vocal lines over drum-driven Gakondo textures. For Gen Z, he stood as the bridge: bold, restless, and deeply rooted.

From there, he fused seamlessly into a warrior display, introducing the 25-strong Ibihame Cy’Imana dancers before exiting in a whirlwind of Intore energy. Amakondera horns, Ingoma drums, shouts, kwivuga, organised chaos on stage, mesmerising. A saxophone unexpectedly floated slick jazz licks over the thunder.

The dance troupes Inyamibwa and Inganzo Ngari followed, driving the arena into full electricity. This was poetry in motion: disciplined formations, commanding drums, and the thunder of Amakondera horns polyphonic tones cutting through. The arena became a giant, participatory Igitaramo, intergenerational, communal, participatory; one could feel the lineage flowing through the entire space.

Veterans held their ground with masterful ease. Jules Sentore, charisma and emotional precision embodied, moved effortlessly between pop-inflected passages, Afro-modern arrangements, and the deep resonance of classic Gakondo phrasing. Soon joined by two dozen dancers dressed in elegant black, his set unfolded like fluid, unmistakably Rwandan theatre.

Then Massamba Intore took the stage, a veteran presence with a voice full of history and warmth. Dressed in a full-black, emperor-style suit wrapped in a modern version of Imishanana, he commanded the space, weaving through guitar-driven Congolese licks and call-and-response passages with absolute mastery.

And then came the moment no one rehearsed.

Massamba stepped off the stage, walked toward the front row, and began singing, a cappella, Inyange Muhorakeye, one of his "big sister in arts" most beloved songs. Cécile Kayirebwa seated between her younger sister and the legendary Muyango joined in, Massamba pulled up a chair, sat before her, and together they created a moment of pure Umucyo.

Cameras gathered. Photographers circled. The arena erupted. Seven thousand people witnessed an intimate exchange that felt like a whisper travelling across generations, soft, profound, unforgettable. In a show of more than five hours, it took only two minutes for Cécile Kayirebwa to ignite the moment that became its soul. A quiet gesture, an unrehearsed duet, a spark shared between artists who know each other’s lineage by heart that shouted a simple truth: that true legacy is not built by institutions or official plans. It is carried, it is lived, and it is recognized instinctively by the people.

The moment was made more poignant by the context. As mentioned earlier, 22 November was meant to be marked by an intimate celebration organized by Ceka I Rwanda, the organization overseeing Cécile Kayirebwa’s legacy. Multiple efforts to secure support were met by delayed reaction, unanswered messages, and even a potential partner venue withdrawal. Those working to secure an intimate celebration for Kayirebwa's legacy realized the path to honoring this day was met with frustrating delays and institutional silence.

As the Justin Bieber viral moment articulates well “It didn't clock”. The announcement of Dutarame Kigali on the same date, however, offered a meaningful alternative for honoring the St Cecilia day. Following frenzy behind-the-scenes work simply to ensure she could safely attend the event, the City of Kigali and the production team, citing an unfortunate oversight, stepped in on the final day with VIP tickets and protocol assistance. Yet here, in this vast arena, the culture itself had course-corrected. Dutarame Kigali, perhaps inadvertently, ultimately provided the stage for the most fitting tribute of all, a raw, unrehearsed tribute that no formal ceremony could ever hope to replicate.

A reminder, gentle yet undeniable, that legacy is not claimed.

It is lived.

It is carried.

It is recognised instinctively by the people.