Genocide, 17 years after

For the last 3 days, I have been thinking deeply about my blog initiative and the ratio regis behind it. This led me to think critically and objectively about Genocide consequences and the progress that our Country in General and survivors in particular have registered in the recovery from the wounds of the 1994 atrocities.

The economic growth is obvious in Rwanda. Different areas of the Country’s development have encountered significant growth. The infrastructure has been greatly improved, technology has been incorporated in the daily life of Rwandans, and education system has seen more people graduating from different schools, colleges and universities. The business, justice, health and many other systems have been reformed for more efficiency.  

Survivors of Genocide have not been left behind. A lot has been done for their rehabilitation. Some of them have graduated from Universities and entered in different professional jobs, some others have entered business.

Through the Gacaca and classical justice system, the trial of most of genocide suspects has helped to know the truth about the execution of genocide and this led to the dissent burial of genocide victims and at the same time contributed to reconciliation.

However, it is unfortunate to observe that genocide psychological wounds are still alive among survivors. This is often manifested by the number of people who suffer traumatic stress disorders especially during the period of genocide commemoration.  This has led the Government to review the commemoration process, whereby images of intense atrocities cannot be shown by the national TV and in the burial or commemoration ceremonies some testimonies are not allowed. 

It is absolutely true that exposure to the description of atrocities perpetrated in 1994 can have a traumatizing effect to people especially victims of genocide who connect to what they went through, but, it is also correct that a deep commemoration can be an efficient cure to traumatic tendencies.

My own experience

When Genocide took place in 1994, I was a 13 years old boys studying in boarding high school. At the end of the liberation struggle, I had to go back to school. I spent a significant amount of time (approximately 5 years) trying to adapt my life to the loss of my family (father, mother, brothers and sister). In this particular period, commemoration was not on the list of my priorities. I thought it would make feel crazy. I was afraid by the idea of admitting the death of my beloved ones. I was terrified by the idea of a definite loss of my mother that I loved so much. I was avoiding any kind of event that can bring me to this kind of thought.  The more I was running away from this reality the emptier, I was feeling. To cover the gap, I started smoking and got involved in alcoholism. I thought these behaviors could help me surpass my sorrow, pain and loneliness, but they complicated the situation.  Even though I was away from genocide commemoration testimonies and ceremonies, I constantly felt angry at the country, hutus and everybody else who could help spare my family. I had no sense of responsibility and did not care about anything. 

Things changed in 2004 when I organized the burial of my father. Through Gacaca courts (proceedings) we were able to get accurate information about the way he was killed, people who killed him and where his body was thrown. In the pre-burial ceremonies we organized commemoration activities that I could not dodge. I decided to get fully engaged, physically and psychologically. When I was asked to talk, something strong and deep happened, it was like my heart busted and I felt something I have not felt before. I felt relieved and then sad and cried for the first time for the loss of my family.  I had never felt that way before. Since then, I started participating actively in the commemoration ceremonies.

This is how I started to think about my beloved ones again, and decided to shape my life in a sense that I will always feel proud to represent them and honor them through my life. I also think it was a starting point for me to forgive hutus in general and those who killed my beloved ones in particular. As I was connecting with my parents again, I felt a need to behave like them, I felt a need to do what is right, I felt their presence again in my life and I was able to accept the separation.

The burial of my father helped me to think about me, about my life and focus on what should be my involvement in rehabilitation process. As I felt really bad about what happened, I learned to fight any kind of injustice and unfair treatment. I learned to respect others and honor my commitments.

My view is shared by Eric Brahm in his article “Trauma healing”. He states that “The ordinary response to atrocities is to banish them from consciousness. Certain violations of the social compact are too terrible to utter aloud: this is the meaning of the word unspeakable. Atrocities, however, refuse to be buried. Equally as powerful as the desire to deny atrocities is the conviction that denial does not work. … Remembering and telling the truth about terrible events are prerequisites both for the restoration of the social order and for the healing of individual victims. Many argue that trauma will not go away unless it is actively confronted. This is, in turn, contingent on a full airing of the details of the crimes. “Psychological restoration and healing can only occur through providing the space for survivors to feel heard and for every detail of the traumatic event to be re-experienced in a safe environment”.

Herman Judith in the book “Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror” (York: Basic Books, January 1, 1992) identifies three stages that trauma victims move through as part of the healing process: safety, acknowledgement, and reconnection. These processes have guided the creation of many trauma healing programs. The first step for most programs is to provide a safe space. A feeling of safety will encourage victims to open up and reveal details of their ordeal. Retelling the details of one’s story can be therapeutic and allows those memories to be incorporated into the victim’s life story. When the story is told in the presence of the other, it can lead to acknowledgement, apology, forgiveness, and reconnection.

The above mentioned views show how important it is to approach commemoration and mourning activities. It really helps. It has helped me to live again. It can help others.

I would like to conclude my post by a message from a victim that I borrowed from Dr Richard P. Lord:

I humbly ask you to understand my situation and comply with my requests below:  

1. Don’t explain

 As deeply as I cry out “Why”, I know there is no rational explanation. My “Why” is more a longing for God to hold me in His arms and give me some comfort than it is a question I want answered. I don’t want you to try to give me answers. What has happened is absurd. It doesn’t make sense. Therefore, let us together try to explain the cause of the tragedy as factually and honestly as possible. I want you, as my close friend, to be companions who will stand with me in my longing, not sources of explanation.

 2.      Don’t take away my reality

 My pain seems unbearable to me and yet, in light of what has happened, it feels right that I should be in pain. I know it may make you uncomfortable. I know you want to take it away. But you can’t, so please don’t try. The pain is a sign to me of how much I have loved and how much I have lost. If I have doubts, if I am angry, understand that these are normal reactions to a very abnormal situation. I will not always be like this, but I am now. These are my feelings. Please respect them.

 3.      Help me deal with forgiveness with integrity

 Understand that if my faith is important to me, I will struggle with this issue of forgiveness. I will remember all the times I’ve been told that I must forgive. And yet, something deep within me resists forgiving someone who has not even said, “I am sorry.” I wonder if I am the appropriate one to forgive the person who harmed or injured someone I love. I don’t feel obligated to forgive; I don’t even feel that I have the right to forgive in these circumstances. But yet, I feel uncomfortable in my resistance to forgive.

I am also troubled by the difference between forgiving and forgetting. I desperately want my loved one who has been killed to be remembered. I resist anything that threatens the memory of one who has died. Therefore, even if I have decided honestly and with integrity to unconditional offer forgiveness, please don’t ask me to forget what happened. It is impossible to forget, and, to me, it is very undesirable as well. Understand that forgiveness is far more than just saying three words, “I forgive you.” If I say the words, they must be true. I must speak them from the depths of my very soul with absolute integrity. Don’t push me to say the words just to satisfy you. I can only say them, if I come to really mean them.

4.      Stay Close

Just as a one-year old child learns to walk with someone close by, to steady him when he stumbles, stay close enough so I can reach out and steady myself on you when I need to. Understand my need to grieve, my need to withdraw, my need to agonize, but remind me that you’re there to lean on when I want to share my pain.

5.  Remember me…for a long time

This loss I incurred from Genocide will always be a part of me. I’ll need to talk about it for years to come. Most people will be tired of hearing about it after a period of time. Please be the person who will invite me to share my feelings about this after others have moved on to other concerns. If my loved one has died, mention his or her name from time to time and let us remember together.

 6. Don’t be frightened of my anger

 Anger isn’t nice to be around. But it’s part of what I’m feeling now, and I need to be honest about it. I won’t hurt myself or anybody else. I know my anger doesn’t threaten God. People got angry in the Bible. Even God got angry at certain things.

 7. Listen to my doubt

 Listen to my doubts so you can hear the pain it is expressing. Like anger, doubt is not pleasant to be around, so people will want to talk me out of it. But for right now, let me express the questions, which are measured by the depth of the less I feel. If I cannot doubt, my faith will have no meaning. I t is only as I move through doubt that a more meaningful faith will develop.

8. Be patient

 My progress will not be steady. I’ll slip back just when everyone thinks I’m doing so well. Be the one to whom, on occasion, I can reveal my weakness and regression. Let me be weak around you and not always strong. I’ll make it, but it will take much longer than most people think. I’ll need your patience.

 9. Remind me this isn’t all there is to life

 My pain and my questions consume me. I can think and feel nothing else. Remind me that there is more to life than my understanding and my feelings. Stay beside me and remind me of that Eternal Presence which can penetrate even my grief.

Thank you for being kind enough to grant me what I am asking you.

2010 in review

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Fresher than ever.

Crunchy numbers

The Leaning Tower of Pisa has 296 steps to reach the top. This blog was viewed about 1,200 times in 2010. If those were steps, it would have climbed the Leaning Tower of Pisa 4 times

In 2010, there were 9 new posts, not bad for the first year! There were 18 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 7mb. That’s about 2 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was April 7th with 88 views. The most popular post that day was Hello world!.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, gc4ll.org, twitter.com, healthfitnesstherapy.com, and rwandafactcheck.grouply.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for dusengiyumva, samuel dusengiyumva, sam dusengiyumva, what does it take to save a life, and e.e.r rwanda shyogwe.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

Hello world! March 2010
5 comments

2

About March 2010

3

What does it take to save a life? June 2010
5 comments

4

APOCALYPSE: THROUGH THE KILLINGS April 2010
1 comment

5

What do you know about Genocide in Rwanda? March 2010
4 comments

AFTER GENOCIDE

In my previous posts, I took my readers back to my genocide experience. I shared the most challenging, scaring, threatening and painful memories from my parents murder, through my sister and brothers slaughter to my miraculous escaping.

It felt really good to get in to RPF controlled zone. When I got there in July 1994 I joined other people who have survived the Genocide killings. It was amazing how feelings were completely different.  During Genocide, I was feeling abandoned, helpless, useless, worth to be killed, unsafe and mostly that Genocide would end after all Tutsi are exterminated. I remember having slept for more than 2 days. It was good to recover the right of walking across the street without risking of being butchered.

Few days later, I learned that one of my aunties survived Genocide and joined her and we started living together. The following year I returned to school and continued my high school.

Facing the loss of my family and the forgiveness journey

My first night in the secured zone (controlled by RPF) was the most challenging. I started facing the loss of my family. I was receiving the information about the way they were murdered. At first I could not believe. I really thought that it was a mistake and was going to see them again. Especially for my mother. I could not believe that a reasonable human being could kill such a nice, wonderful and caring person that she was.

I was able to find the body of my father in 2004 and gave him a decent burial. I was able to find the common pit where my sister and young brother bodies were thrown. But it took a much longer time to find out about my mother.

This period of deep thinking and belief that your beloved ones are still alive, that you may be able to see them again, is the most painful. It actually releases you when you find the bodies as deteriorated as they may be for a burial.

When I started my University studies, I took a significant amount of my time to think seriously about what happened to me. Of course I was facing the absence of my protecting father and my caring mother. I was obliged to struggle with life and find solutions to all my challenging problems by myself. The torturing question that was harassing my mind was: Why me? Of course I was not the only one but this kind of harm affects individual personally and in a distinct way.

Fortunately, I came across an important subject that I approached with carefulness and delicacy, “Forgiveness”. The more problems I was facing I was spending my energy blaming the killers of my family, cursing them to hell and wishing that they get miserable. I came to find out that the more energy I was spending on them, the weaker I was getting. I came to an important conclusion that I was being affected by my choice of focus. I was focusing on the negative experience I went through and was getting negatively affected.

This is in fact the view of Raymond Lloyd Richmond, Ph D in his article “Forgiveness”:  He says that forgiveness, by itself is still psychologically preferable to holding a grudge. Why? Because the bitterness of a grudge works like a mental poison that doesn’t hurt anyone but you.

Seeking revenge or wishing harm to another will, at the minimum, deplete your strength and prevent your wounds from healing. In the worst case, the cold hunger for revenge will make you into a victimizer yourself. Lacking forgiveness, you and your victimizer will be locked in the hell of eternal revenge.

After a deep analysis of what I was aspiring to, I realized that I had to move the focus. Therefore, forgiveness became a necessity. I realized that I had to forgive though no one of my family murders came to me ask for forgiveness.

I think this is an important opinion to be shared with the entire humanity because most us human face betrayal in many ways. We Tutsis in Rwanda went through Genocide, but there are still cases of rape in many Countries, there wars in many places, there is a growing number of betrayal among business partners, cheating among spouses and many others. I think for every one wearing a victim hat, the important thing is to always analyse and make the right call in terms of dealing with the consequences of the injurious act.  You can choose to keep on hurting yourself, after being hurt but the offender. Or you can choose to free the offender and focus on ways of improving your life.

I also want to take this opportunity to disagree with those who always define forgiveness as lab experimentation. They think you can go in a prestigious University and come up with a formula of how victims are going to forgive in a certain period of time. The evidence is that they spend all their time preaching victims to forgive sometimes using threat and make big publicity of the “forgiveness” obtained under the frustration and tiredness of this continuous harassment of victims.

I think forgiveness is a process which may differ from a person to another. I also think that victim should be given space and put a lot of preaching on the offenders (criminals) because there is an intended practice to put all the burden on the victim than the offender which tends to put the victims in a weak position.

In my own perspective as a genocide victim, I have decided to forgive genocide perpetrators not because I wanted to please anybody; I did it for my own sake and interest. As a matter of fact I have been able to complete my studies, and performed in different positions in Government before joining the INGO, I now work for.

Focus is among the most ingredients of life I have ever seen.

What does it take to save a life?

Portrait of people who made a difference

By Samuel DUSENGIYUMVA

In the humanity history we have had people who saved lives using various methods. Some used medicine and others used miracles like Jesus. The common thing from all these people is an incredible will to save lives.

More than one of the people who heard my story asked me this question: “How did you survive?” My answer to this question is very simple: “I do not know”. I say that because every time I try to understand why every one of my family was killed and not me, I fail to know why.

In the following few paragraphs, I want talk about a person who did whatever she could to keep me alive during Genocide time.

As I mentioned in my previous posts, when we got attacked on the way from the Commune Office, my family got separated. My dad fled with my young sister Felicite and my young brother Jeremiah, I fled with my 3^rd young brother Daniel and my mother run away with my youngest brother Joel. The way was long because I was trying to find a path which can allow me to pass without being seen. I will never forget a place called Nyabitare where we got attacked by a gang of children who were throwing stones on us. It was so hard to cross without being hit by a stone and it was the only way to move forward. I got hit by one stone in the head and continued. We went ahead and arrived on the border between our Commune and another one called Nyamabuye. We had to cross a river.

My brother who was 8 years old was getting hungry because we had spent almost 2 days running around without food or a drink. When I left the luggage, I had managed to get 2 small pieces of bread and because of running and lying down trying to hide the bread had become like floor in my pocket. I took them and gave them to my brother. We were also very thirsty. The only water we could get was from the river but we could not drink it because human bodies were flowing in it. But we had no other choice. I managed to get him water from that river before we continued our journey. We finally arrived in Nyamabuye Commune and found refuge in the compound of the Anglican church. Someone gave a shelter for one night and the following day we were put in different families. This was the last night I spent with my brother.

I was sent to a family that had children of my age, beyond and below. I spent most of my time trying to figure out what had happened to the rest of my family members. I want to recognize that this family did whatever they could to keep me out of troubles. I was staying at home all day.

As time went by, RPF was getting close and people in the neighborhood started fleeing. Besides, by that time my mother has come to find refuge in the Anglican school along with my youngest brother.  The host family took a decision to flee as well. The woman that was hiding me went to ask my mother if she could take me or if my mother wanted me to stay with her. My loving mother gave the answer that is always in my heart. She said: “Take him with you. May be he will be the only one to survive”.

We left the place before I could go to say goodbye to her. My host family decided to go in the deep southern part of Rwanda towards the border with Congo. On the way we crossed a lot of roadblocks where to many Tutsi bodies were lying on the street corners. We were in a truck and I was sitting in the corner of the back side. We finally arrived in Muko Commune. It was night but I was having a kind of safe feeling as we were getting far from my home village where people could know who I really was. In the eyes of the neighbors I was a child of my host family. We spent some few calm days until I got into real troubles.

One Wednesday, I and another boy of my host family were sent to the marked to buy some stuff for cooking. I was not afraid because I could not think that there was any one from home village.

When we arrived in the market before we started shopping my eyes came across a boy who was my school mate and who seemed amazed to see me. All of sadden the boy disappeared. In a second I found myself surrounded by a big number of men with traditional weapon (machetes, clubs and others) with a very dirty look. One of them who appeared to be their leader asked me: “Where is your father, your mother, sister and your brothers?” “I do not know”. I answered with a blood pressure. The guy told me that they have all been killed because they are inyenzi and that was going to be my fate. They took me to one pit in the corner of the market and deprived me of my watch, my shoes and my clothes. I remained with a small short. They order me to seat down near the pit. Three guys approached me and before they could hit me I heard a voice of the leader. “Let us give to this little cockroach time to pray. His father was a pastor. Boy you have time to pray”. I took this time to say some few words to God. I asked for forgiveness and a chance to see my family again.

What happened is that when I got caught, the boy who was with me run back home and told his mother that I was going to be killed. His mother rushed to the commune office and asked one police officer she knew to help as her son was going to be killed. The police rushed into emotion as he thought this woman was telling the truth and came with her where I was being tortured before death. When the police guy arrived he pointed the gun to the guys surrounding me and asked them to leave immediately. They tried to explain that I was a Tutsi, but he could listen to them. He took me by a hand and asked that woman to bring me home and to make sure that I stay out of troubles. I was almost dead. I don’t know how I left that place until I arrived home. Later, I decided to leave the place and managed to join the area controlled by the RPF.

This is an action of a person who did whatever she could to save my life. She did it with a good heart. She succeeded where to many people failed. She took my stand while I was going to die. I was a little poor and hopeless kid who was the last to die in a family of many. But she managed to run and call me her son in the hardest period of Rwanda history. Every time I see her I tell her that I owe her my life.

She is an example that, you don’t need to have the whole world financial or military power to save a life. It only requires a heart. If we could get people with good hearts only God knows how many lives we can save.

REMEMBERING EXPERIENCE

Remembering our beloved ones is our reason for living

Thursday, 20th April, 2010

For all of you who have been wondering if I was going to continue writing, here I am again. I’m back. It took me long to figure out what to say. The more I shared my story I was able to think deep and realize again the consequences of Genocide in my life. In this post I’m going to share with you the commemoration ceremony in brief.

On the night of 1^st of May and the day of 2^nd of May 2010, a commemoration ceremony was organized to honor my family members who perished in the 1994 Genocide.  This ceremony took place at my home village for those who know Rwanda, it is in the Southern Province, Ruhango District, Kinazi Sector.

Mainly the ceremony is all about reviving our beloved ones, sharing the best memories we have of them and drawing examples from their living to shape our future.

The ceremony was done into two parts. One is the mourning night and the commemoration day. The main part was dedicated to testimonies of people who have known my parents for a long time, my intervention and the local leaders’ speeches. When we prepared the ceremony, I really had a plan of making it a right framework for expressing the outstanding job my mother and my dad did and how they spent their entire life caring for others.

One can imagine what testimonies were about. A former nurse, who worked at the health centre (where my mother was working), shared her genocide experience and how my mother tried to keep the workers together, and how she was forced to leave the place. For my father it was about how righteous he was in his deeds.

My intervention

It becomes much difficult when you have to be the main speaker over your family death. It gets much harder when you are talking to a gathering composed of killers, people who watched your family dying and others. The ideal behavior would be expressing anger and umbrage towards these people. And this is actually what most of people in my home village think of me I guess. When I relate with them I feel that communication is not going right. They think I will revenge. As a matter of fact, some one made a public statement regretting of not having killed me during genocide time.

With all this in mind my message was very simple. I expressed to the gathering that I have no resentment against any one. At first (shortly after Genocide) I really hated them. I had my time of crying for the loss of my family. I also recognise that for every single step I make in my life, I realise how much I need them and miss them. However, I’ve learned to use my past to build a better future. I believe that my parents watch me and watch over me. I have a strong belief that good always wins evil. I can blame people about the loss of my family but have a responsibility to make sure that my life and my family have a respectable status. I have no resentment at all. I had my hard times and everyone has got a portion of that. I’ve gone through hard times because of what happened, but have managed to move forward.

May be some people thought I was going to be miserable for the rest of my life. But I managed to keep my head up. But I really don’t mind about that. I have been able to build my own family, close and large. I’ve been with goods friends with good hearts, and that is very important for me than these people with negative thinking. I cannot devote my time and energy on them. I’m focusing on the future and trying to contribute to mu country’s development. This was mainly my message.

In general, ceremony went well and left a discussion in the whole village about my family history. This was indeed the objective of the ceremony. I need to take this opportunity to thank all my friends who make my new family for having supported me with the presence, energy or any other assistance. They make my life much better. Their friendship, presence, love, care and understanding are the source of my energy. I also thank everyone who is taking time to read my blog. You are the reason I’m still writing. I will keep on sharing with you as long as I can.  Special thanks to those who have sent my blog to friends. Thank you and may God bless you all.

MOTHER, I WISH YOU WERE HERE

Thursday, 15th April 2010

This thought is always hunting my mind. I wish my mother was present in my wedding. I really wish she could have been there when I got my first born. I wish she could have known my son Bryan.

You may want to know how she left me so early. Thinking about always reminds me of a song titled “If tomorrow never comes”. The following are the some lines of this verse:

“ Cause I’ve lost loved ones in my life
Who never knew how much I loved them
Now I live with the regret
That my true feelings for them never were revealed”

My mother: NYIRABANYIGINYA Martha

Mother, you will always be in my heart

When you have someone or something you hardly understand, the extent of the importance he/she/it represents to you. That mistake is common. When I had my mother, I was still young but I always thought that I will get time to say how much she meant to me. Oh, life is so unpredictable. She was taken from me by surprise.

This is how it happened. When they started shooting on us, my mother run away with my youngest brother Joel who still young (3 years old). She went to another District to hide in a boarding school. She spent one month before people started fleeing the RPF advancement. She fled with others and when she reached a place called Mushubati on the way to the western border with DRC. She got in troubles.

When she was hiding in a church, a woman she used to treat at the health centre noticed her presence. She started screeming that she has seen a Tutsi. My mother tried to hide but after along search carried out by Interahamwe, she was found. The asked her where she was from and told them. She claimed to be a Hutu and they told her: “If you are a Hutu, that is fine with us. But we know the child you are carrying on your back is a Tutsi. Give him to us and we will let you go”. She replied immediately: “If you want to kill him you will have to kill me too. I cannot go anywhere without my son”.

They took her to a toilet pit and killed her using a club. They hit her three times. After killing they threw her in the pit with my brother in back. He was still alive. After that, they realized that my brother was still alive because he was crying. They threw in pit many big stones. When they could here no more cries, they stop and left. They had done their jobs well. I can remember their look when they were pleading in Gacaca Court.

In all the things that happened in the past, loosing my mother will always be the worst event. I will always remember her, honour her. She gave everything and did everything she could so that I be successful. I will not fail her.

To be continued ….

DEPTH OF GENOCIDE

Sunday, 11th April, 2010

After my father’s death my sister Felicity and my brother Jeremiah went on trying to find shelter. You can imagine what happened to them. They got caught on one roadblock. They killers decided to take them the Mayor. He ordered them to send them to our home village.

I have to recall that they were taken to our home village after 2 days of long walk,hunger and thirst. When they reached our home,  the house has been destroyed. They took them to my aunt’s house who was living there, married to a hutu. After 10 minutes a militia group came to take them to the killing place. When they were taking them there my brother who was 5 years old was asking for forgiveness: “Please forgive me. Do not kill me. I’ll never be Tutsi again.” My sister was moving very calm praying God. They took them to a communal pit and killed them. In 3 days I lost my dad, my sister and my brother. It is not easy deal with this kind of situation……………..

It is so unfair to loose to many people in a very short time

To be continues……………..

APOCALYPSE: THROUGH THE KILLINGS

Friday, 09th April, 2010

After Habyarimana’s death on 06^th April, 1994, things started changing in the neighbourhood. My home village which is located in the Southern Province, Ruhango District, Kinazi Sector is very close to Bugesera District which has been for years a killing laboratory. After the President was killed, the administration started operation of marking Tutsis using the pretext that their relatives (RPF) killed the President. These operations were done by militia Interahamwe who were trained among the local youth communities. As everyone knows, Rwanda is very small. Everyone knows everyone. It was therefore easy to draw the list of people to be killed. This brings to a friend of mine (colleague) who asked me once an innocent question. The question was stated like this:” Tell me Sam, I know you were in Rwanda when Genocide took place. Do you think it was prepared? Can you confirm that the so called “lists” existed, that leaders planned to exterminate Tutsi in a systematic way?”

In the beginning I was surprised by that question, but later I managed to understand how some people just get a superficial overview of things and start pretending that they know them. I know that today so many people in the world think they know what happened in Rwanda but in reality they just know a very small part of it. I believe that by telling my story some people will get close to the reality and will be able to tell it to others. I really wish that this small writing will be a witness about what happened to our beloved ones. Sometimes I wonder what they would tell the world if they would get a boot.

The inventory period (allow me to call it inventory because Tutsis have ceased to be human they were considered as things) took one week in our area. During that week people were just fleeing in big numbers from Bugesera where killings started just on the 7^th April. One Thursday 14^th April the Mayor started using grass roots leaders to spread rumours that Tutsis are planning to kill hutus. They were supposed to defend themselves by killing them all. On that day I realized how much a human brain is so easy to corrupt. People in the neighbourhood even kids, started seing us as enemies who deserve to die. The following day roadblocks were all around, all adult people were requested to exercise and started moving around with traditional weapons. I should mention that short time before plane crash my dad went on trip to visit his friend who was a bishop in Gikongoro, on the road towards the south west boarder with Congo.

Machetes were the most accessible weapon

I will never forget that Friday night. It was apparently a calm night but the rumours were getting tense. As I was the elder child, my mother who always believed in me asked me to make sure that my sister and brothers are properly dressed. We put on 3 pants one under the other and did the same for t-shirts and shirts. We also put some covers. We had our (last) dinner and my mother prayed a special prayer. She asked God to protect us in troubles we were and be by our father’s side. Around 1:00 am we heard serious noises around our home and one watch person (guard) of the Health Centre that my mother was running, came to my parents room window and shouted that we were being attacked, there was a big group people surrounding the house that we should get out. My mother took my younger brother and I took the other (my sister and 2 brothers) and went on the other side of the road to hide in the health centre. My mother took us in the delivery room and asked us to go under the delivery table (bed). This is how we left our home under the threat of death.

Even today I always remember that image. I can see myself with my sister and brothers, hiding under that table imploring God to bring down the sun to see what was happening.

In the morning we (my mother and others members of the family) decided to leave the place. We thought about going to the District Office to seek protection. Oh, how we were very much stupid and naive. We could not believe that the leaders could be part of the extermination plan.

This is how I left my home forever. I did not plan to leave my home in these circumstances. Before, I used to dream myself completing my studies, getting a nice job and leaving my parents home to start my own family. But life is so unpredictable.

We arrived at the District on Saturday 16^th April. We got refuge in the District Court Office and very many people started arriving. Actually this was the killers plan. They did not want to go find people in their respective villages. They just wanted to chase people out of their homes and gather them in one place to know how big the task would be (killing them) and what it would take (number of killers and weapons to use). In the mean time homes were being destroyed and property taken.

I really get mad at people who treat Genocide survivors as they did something wrong to become needy who cannot take care of themselves. I wish these senseless people could go back in time and see how people destroyed everything we had from confidence to dignity, from houses to clothes, they took everything.

At the District, we encountered every big number of people. Some talked about 50,000 people, gathering in one place. We spent 6 days there before the last day arrived. We faced a number of challenges including access to clean water and food, keeping cattle (cows mostly) and medicines to treat wounded people. We also were being attacked every day even though we tried to defend ourselves.

After one week we got attacked by militias, army and everything you can imagine that can kill in a fast way. Our home district went to Bugesera to hire some militias and military. There conducted a fundraising whereby the local communities provided money to give to Bugesera people to come give them a hand in the grimy duty.

In total the attack group was the double of the number of us (to be killed). When we saw that attack we decided to run to the superior administrative organ to seek protection. We were so naive!!!! On the way we got stopped by a convoy of Military Police. All along the street in the bushes there were soldiers hiding with guns and grenades. So this guy stopping us was a strategy to put us together for an efficient use of their weapon. All of sudden it was Boom Boom Boom. It was grenades and bullets everywhere.

I carry a memory of the noise from the people (kids, women men) agonizing, fight with the last breath, cows fearing the gun sounds. Oh my God. This was hell on earth. This the last time I saw my family together.

I got confused for one minute as I was lying down after my mother order to take cover, then I took my brother by the hand and started running. We jumped a mountain and were running carefully because while downside the hill guns were destroying, human were butchering others on the upside. We run going through machetes, kids screaming, women throwing stones. I will always remember a place we passed by. We saw kids on the upper side of the road who were screaming: “here they are, Tutsi are running, please somebody kill them”. This when I understood that we (Tutsi) were going to be killed up to the last.

We kept running and crossed one district and entered another. I was with my young brother and continued toward a place called Shyogwe, which hosts the Diocese Office of the Anglican Church. When we arrived there, we contacted some old friends of my parents and one family accepted to hide myself and another accepted to hide my brother.

My sister Felicity, my brother Daniel and my brother Jeremiah

1^st death: my father last hour:

You can also see some information about my dad on this link:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2010/mar/28/rwanda-laptop-revolution

I saw my dad for the last time, the day we got ambushed. When we run, everyone took his/her own way. My dad took my sister Felicite and my other young brother Jeremiah. My mother run with my younger brother Joel whereas I run with my young brother Daniel. I did not see where my dad was killed. I got this testimony about his last moments out of Gacaca Court from people who murdered him.

As he was running, he spent the whole day trying to get shelter but no one could hide him. He was popular and killers were looking for him everywhere. In the evening he got an idea of hiding in one of his sub-parish which was located away from our home village. When he was crossing to reach that place he came across a roadblock.

This picture shows where the roadblock was situated

As he was with the kids I mentioned earlier, he decided to stand and asked the kids to go back. He definitely knew that he was going to die. People at the roadblock saw him standing and took him by his hands. They asked him to present his ID Card. Of course that time ethnicity was in the ID Cards. These roadblock guys were surprised to see that a Tutsi would show his ID Card. They asked him if he was really a Tutsi. He replied positively. They told him that they were going to kill him. He was a very calm person who could act bravely during hard situations. When he learned that he was going to die he asked one thing. He asked time to pray. Interestingly when he prayed he did it in two languages. The first part was in French and from my understanding he just wanted to talk to God in a private way because none of these guys could understand French. Only him and God know what he told him. The second part was in Kinyarwanda. This one was short.

He said: “God, I’ve walked with you through many hard situations and you have always protected me. However, I realize that you have accepted that I get killed by this people. I would like to ask you one thing. If any of this people who are going to kill me, if anyone of them during his life time repent and ask you for forgiveness. Please forgive him as I have forgiven them”. After this he told them that he was ready. They start beating him with big sticks. They were so many and beating at the same time, then two of them heated him with clubs then he fall down and died. They left the body there and the following morning they wanted to remove the body from the street because it would make them feel uncomfortable. They took a rope then pulled him up to the small whole they had made.

This how they killed him. They did not consider the good news he always preached them every Sunday. For me, I believe that my dad went to heaven because he died like Jesus.I apologize to those who don’t share this belief. I also believe that my dad left a extraordinary legacy of doing good to bad people.

The end

Contact me on: samdusengiyumva@gmail.com

How did it start?

Every time I go back to my home village (one of the most remote places in the country), I ask our former neighbours one question that probably many people ask themselves: “ How did it start? How people got that anger that could allow them to butcher  other human being? For my own case, It has always been very difficult to understand how people murdered my father who always preached them in Church, always helped those who did not have anything to eat, always visited them whenever they were in trouble. It gets much more complicated when I think about my mother case. She was a nurse and always treated them when they or their family members were sick. She help a big number of women in delivery. She even brought one guy at home to treat him from there because he was under intensive care while my mom had to watch one of my brothers who had just born.

People analyse how the whole genocide started from different perspectives. Some talk about colonization as a source of hatred, some talk about devil attack in human mind. Some talk about poverty, ignorance and so on. I’ll add animosity.

You cannot explain to me how you can feel comfortable killing others and exterminating them without high level of animosity. That is personal and law provides punishment for that kind of behaviour regardless of individual consideration.

I also believe that there was a strong involvement from the Government in pulling the population into mass killings. Rwandans are very respectful towards leadership instructions. Leaders from central government up to grassroot leaders were requested to fight against the enemies of the Country of that time. And the enemy was RPF and its supporters (all Tutsi). This call was successfully followed country wide on an interesting speed. More than one million of people killed, a big number of orphan and widows, and so on.

Family situation before Genocide

My Dad got married in 1980. He was celebrating his 14^th wedding anniversary in 1994. By that time I was 13 years old. My sister Félicité was getting 11, my brother Daniel was  8,  my brother Jeremiah was 5, and my  youngest brother Joel was 3. As I said earlier my mother was a nurse and was the head of Health centre. My dad was a Baptist Pastor. He joined Theology school after trying for a long time to complete his secondary education without success because he was kicked out from different schools because he was Tutsi.

My father and my mother

Moreover, in 1990 my dad got arrested shortly after RPF attacked on October 1^st, 1990. The charges were supporting the enemy of the country. The support they referred to was what he preached. In deed at the second day of the fight of RPF, its commander got killed and the population was requested by the then Government to demonstrate and celebrate the death of the chief enemy. My dad who was a believer of tolerance could not bear that some of his church members got involved in the celebration. On Sunday, he said that he was shocked that his fellows did not get the teaching of the bible which prevents to enjoy troubles getting to your neighbors.  He clearly told them that they should not rejoice about anyone’s loss because everyone is a creature of God deserving mercy. He called them to rather be concerned with what would happen to them in case they would die. That very day, he got arrested and spent more than two years in prison.

In April 1994, I was back home for Easter Holiday. On one evening we got info from Radio that the President’s plane was shot down. This is how it started.

From that very evening my life changed forever.

What do you know about Genocide in Rwanda?

It is incredible how life can be so unpredictable. Sometimes you don’t understand things happening to you. Sometimes, you think that things happening to others are fictions. But, yes, life is full of hard to understand events some amazing some terrifying. That is how life is.

Some people say that Rwanda is a country of 1000 hills and 2000 smiles. I would add that it is also a country of thousands and thousands of mysteries.  Among other mysteries that are not hard to find in Rwanda, I will focus in this memorial period on this blog to express what happened to me and my family member during Genocide.

Let me disclose how much it hurts to spend every single day knowing that all people you loved were butchered probably while you were watching.

Let me say how hard it feels to be helpless having millions of people hunting and everyone ready to kill or denounce to the killers.

Oh, It is really unfair. But we must go on. We must live. We must forgive. We must smile. We must study and excel. We must be model citizen.

In our own context sometimes it is only a torture. We live in a society whereby we are targeted by the killers or their families. Because, they think we hold testimonies.

I hope that the realities that I’ll share with you in this particular period will positively contribute to your understanding.

This my family photo. Except my self (in the middle) others have been murdered.

“Tuzahora Iteka Tubibuka. Ubutwari bwanyu bwatubereye impamba.”