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