On a breezy afternoon, I sat at a rooftop cafe in Kigali, writing with a glass of regionally-grown iced chocolate. From the tall glass windows, I watched the rain fall gently on the tiled roofs, the avocado trees and the hills beyond. My partner and I had arrived in Rwanda only a week ago, but I already felt like I was part of the country’s fabric. We had serendipitously met Kigali’s zero waste entrepreneurs, hiked in the city’s urban wetlands, attended a moving music gig that paid tribute to th...