Reconciliation in Rwanda - Stories of Rescue

ERNEST My name is Ernest. In 1994, I was 46 years old and married; I lived in Byumba with my wife and children. The family of NYANGENZI Etienne rescued me during the genocide period. On 6^th April 1994, I left my home and come to Kigali for reasons of employment. I arrived late in Kigali, so I decided to stay overnight at NYANGENZI’s house. He was my friend, especially my brother’s friend. I went to his office, he told me he was in hurry that I would meet him at his home. I went to his house, he received me as a friend. We ate and afterward I went to bed. Before sleeping, I was smoking when we heard a blast, because he lived near the airport we thought it was a plane crash. That it was. We heard people running, shootings and soldiers begun automatically to burn Tutsi’s house and to kill them. We stayed in the corridor of his house that night. In the morning, we heard the communiqué of the Minister of Defence ordering to all citizens to stay home. It rained that morning at 8:00. Two soldiers came to knock at the door but he refused to open it. They broke the window pane and insulted him. I told him to open and let me die as a hero. His ex-helpers denounced him because many Tutsis used to come to his house and also because his wife looked like a Tutsi. He opened up and there were two they had ordered to sit, they searched through the house, and threatened his wife because they thought she was a Tutsi. One of them asked for my ID card. After reading it , he told me they would kill all Tutsis because of the death of the president. I responded that if they were to exterminate all Tutsis because of that I could do nothing. They told NYANGENZI that they must take me, but he begged them not to and  gave them money. They insisted he gave them a radio, they said others would kill NYANGENZI and me if they found me there again. After that, I decided to go but NYANGENZI refused, he insisted. I told him to let me go because I was Tutsi if they found me they would kill all of us, including his family. I told him you are Hutu, let me go to save your family, I did not want to let them kill all the family, I wanted to die alone. I went out, he followed me and he refused saying if we were to die, we would die together. He begged me to stay, so I did. NYANGENZI’s neighbour who was a soldier in the army knocked on the door. Again we refused again to open it but he identified himself. We opened it and  he told us that he came from Bugesera where he was deployed and then decided to take his wife to her parent’s house because she was Tutsi. That morning, I went into hiding in his garage but in the afternoon, he said that I should not stay there, it was not good to stay alone in the garage and if they knocked at the door, I would return to the garage. I left the hiding place, we sat down to the table but in the evening, a communiqué called people to go the airport so that they could protect them. He advised me to stay in the house with his help because in our ID it was written TUTSI. They went there and we stayed.  In the morning, he came from the airport saying that they would seek through houses because as they said all Tutsis had not yet been killed. I told him to hide me in the ceiling, I went up and in the evening, I came down to sleep. Five days later, he told me that they would check in the ceiling. I suggested going in a septic tank with 16 meters deep. He sent his children to spy on the neighbours in order to avoid them seeing  what we were doing. He threw ladders so that I could get down but they were short, I decided to get down slowly until the level of ladders he gave me mattress and blanket I continued to go down but I breathed with difficulty. They used a cord to send me food, water and a box to relieve myself. I could not see; even until now, one eye cannot see clearly. I used fingers to know what they sent; I had stayed there for more than a month. In the daytime, I went up to the level of the ladder to take the numbness off and breathe, before going below where they gathered. It was in rain season, even if it was covered, water came down so I sat in water.  One day, NYANGENZI came, took off the covers and called me to climb but I was very weak. I climbed up to the level of ladders; I remember I told him that I could not go up anymore that he could let me die here. He sent me a cord I tied myself the waist, and he tugged me up. When I reached the top I could not see. I looked like an animal, his children wept. He said that all his neighbours had fled. RPF soldiers were fighting with the government army in the neighbourhood. His children were preparing to go to their parent’s house in Butare. He had refused to go with them because of me, and he said that would be a cowardly act. We stayed there NYANGENZI, his helper and me. We stayed hidden in the house. He went to the roadblock to make believe that he acted with them so that he could not be suspect. He was diabetic they told him to sleep but not to go home in the night. He returned home in the morning blaming killers, I remember one day they gave him meat, he threw it away, saying that even his dog could not eat that meat because he said they had killed, plundered and slaughtered Tutsi’s cows.  One week later, he came in saying that RPF soldiers were approaching and that he had to go so that one of us could survive. He said if one of us survives he can take care of both families. I begged to go with him but he said that I could not survive because there were many roadblocks and they checked ID cards. I understood it was clear. I told him to draw water for us and to close all doors. He had gone and that is last time I saw him. I now believe he is in the paradise. His helper was Tutsi but not easily recognizable; his boss had told her to present herself if somebody knocked at the door and to say she was alone. The helper felt ill, we had no food so we drank water until the RPF soldiers liberated us. I later learned that NYANGENZI died from diabetes on his journey but his family survived. That is how a family that I will never forget rescued me. I hope to meet NYANGENZI in heaven. My brother, who was NYANGENZI’s best friend, gave up drinking beer because he said beer was enjoyable only with him. Gacaca is important; it is confession and forgiveness. I am optimistic about unity and reconciliation; I am a founder of a unity and reconciliation club. I wrote a letter to the National Unity and Reconciliation Commission that killers must have spirit and fortitude to ask for to be pardoned and we can then forgive, that is how we will come at unity and reconciliation. 

ANONYMOUS TESTIMONY I was 28 years old when the genocide begun in 1994, the situation surprised me I had no cash, so I decided to make my way to Gitarama at home. On the way to Gitarama, there were many roadblocks; they asked where we were going instead of going fight RPF. I lied, saying  that we were going to search for money and we would come back. I remember we stopped to the roadblocks at Kamonyi and the killers obliged us to bury bodies, when I saw them I felt as if I was dreaming because I do not like to see blood. I finally got home happily, almost all members of my family were already there, and others joined us later via Bugesera from Kigali. After two days Tutsis neighbours took refuge in our home especially those who were friends of our family, they came one by one saying that Interahamwe killed their relatives. We received them; we hid at least fifteen (15) people in our house. My family benefited from a respect in our community because my father was important and had intellectual children. That is why Interahamwe did not attack us many times even if some informed against us that we were protecting people. This situation made the Interahamwe fear to attack us and most of them were our ex-employees. Most of our hosts were family friends, friends of our friends and I learned from a man some people gathered at the Protestant church and they were killed group by group. He said that survivors would be killed soon. We went there at midnight escaping roadblocks. We took them to our home and we sent some of them to our neighbours because we could not hide all of them. We fed all of them and paid visits to those who were in our neighbours’ houses. When the Interahamwe came, we moved them into our house or into our neighbours’ house, we had done that during three months. The situation was becoming so very bad that we dug a hole and we put wood and soil on the top to prepare the hiding-place for our people. One time one of our employees narrated the story we did not know if he did it deliberately or not but others from the group warned us that Interahamwe would attack us. When we received the information, we organised ourselves so that they could not find anyone hidden. Sometimes we called the Interahamwe to check our house in order to avoid suspicion. However, they did not trust us, after four days, they raised again voices; they said in their meetings that local Interahamwe threatened us that they would call Interahamwe from Gitarama and Ruhango. They did but they did not come to our home I do not know why but our house is far from the main road. Thanks to God, all our hosts survived until the arrival of RPF.  There was a man who took refuge to Kabgayi. He learned that we hid his wife so he came with RPF soldiers. It was liberation, RPF soldiers gave us instructions and they showed us the way. The RPF rescued others from holes and ceilings. We went to straight to Bugesera and at the end we returned to Kigali. Almost all members of my family lived in Kigali; we went home on the weekend. We rescued 15 people; those we sent to our neighbours’ house were at least eight (8). We rescued those people because in our family we do not agree with divisionism. If I give you an example (from school) in class, when Tutsis were obliged to stand up, I felt it was an injustice. My family have different friends without any distinction, so I had no the faintest idea of divisionism as well as my family. If we did such thing as a family, we received the education. I liked reading and listening to the radio, I knew the truth and I am Christian I do not like to see even animals killed  so I cannot imagine seeing a human being killed and worse, me killing a human being. I am optimistic about Gacaca. It is a process; I think it is the way to know the truth. Government is pardoning crimes, I want to see afterwards, and in brief, it is good but a long way to go. The word reconciliation is difficult, you see some prisoners are released and they kill again. I wonder if they merit a pardon. Survivors are still suffering. In our society, there are optimistic people and extremists. I think reconciliation is going on when people are in associations.

My name is MWITAKUZE Felicite, I am a farmer and I had a son who was in seminary in 1994. My family rescued Christine a young girl aged 7 years. My son NTIRENGANYA was in seminary with MUTIMURA, Christine’s brother.   When the genocide began in April of 1994, NTIRENGANYA brought Christine to our home. He told us to protect her. He saw her going to the church where Tutsis looked for assistance. Christine is from Gitarama, she was on holidays at her aunt’s house when the genocide began. She fled when the Interahamwe were killing her aunt’s family. When my son took Christine into our home, he told his father to say that Christine is MUTIMURA’s sister and that we had to protect her. The Interahamwe came many times at home saying they wanted Christine but we refused, arguing that she was our daughter. They came back many times. My son, who was in the government army, came to pay us a visit. He told them that Christine was his daughter. He frightened them, saying if they killed her, he would kill them too. He assured her security to the chief of the local Interahamwe. He told us to let Christine play with other children outside because she had been hidden in the sleeping room since she arrived at our home. We knew that it was dangerous to protect her but we had to, because they were our friends. We had no fear; we prayed day and night. We also fed a woman who was in a nearby hiding place. Thanks to God RPF soldiers came at the end or the Interahamwe would have killed us all. We fled to Congo (ex-Zaire) with Christine. Unfortunately NTIRENGANYA was killed at Gisenyi, after being  accused of being a Tutsi. We hope that NTIRENGANYA and MUTIMURA are in heaven, they were true friends; they loved each other.

The stories:

Thérèse Nyirabayovu
As midwife for Muhima sector in Nyarugenge, Kigali, Thérèse
Nyirabayovu was held in high esteem by the local community. Her
decision to give shelter to Tutsis was based on her belief that it
was ³a duty to save fellow human beings in danger.² Thérèse, who was
then aged 67, had no strength but her own moral stature to rely upon.
But she was so well respected that when the news spread that she was
hiding people, even the interahamwe were reluctant to attack her home.
Thérèse is a widowed peasant farmer with four surviving children who
backed her in her efforts to preserve lives. They did all they could
to meet the needs of the 18 people who hid at her house at one time
or another during the genocide. Thérèse also took food to refugees
who were staying at the nearby church of Ste. Famille.
Thérèse was made aware of the risk she was taking on a number of
occasions_her home was searched, she was questioned repeatedly, and a
grenade was thrown at her house. The danger persisted even after the
genocide. While staying in the refugee camps in the former Zaire,
Thérèse was under constant threat from the militiamen who had heard
of her actions. Odette Mukakarera told of how Thérèse helped her and
underlined the gratitude she will always feel towards this remarkable
woman.
Thérèse has always been well known for her courage, her generosity
and her skill as a midwife. She has always been poor, especially
since she was widowed and had so many children to look after. But her
poverty never got in the way of her humane impulses.
Thérèse and her children hid us for nearly two months,
knowing very well they were risking their lives if anyone ever found
us.

Dr Wolfgang Blam
The few outsiders who tried to help during the darkest days of the
genocide have a special place in the hearts of survivors. Dr Wolfgang
Blam, a German doctor, was one such man. He had lived in Rwanda for
many years and, by April 1994, he was in charge of rural medicine for
the préfecture of Kibuye and worked in the operating theatre in
Kibuye hospital.
Dr Blam speaks fluent Kinyarwanda and is married to Jacqueline, with
whom he has a son, born only two months before the genocide. He was
seen to be without prejudice, working with, treating and socialising
with people of different ethnic and political backgrounds. Dr Blam
refused to leave with the other expatriates; he would not abandon his
wife, a Tutsi, or his duties. He lived through the terror unleashed
upon the people of Kibuye and was a source of strength and
encouragement for those he met, showing tremendous care and
dedication.
Dr Blam and his colleague, Dr Léonard Hitimana, now a
parliamentarian, worked under extremely difficult conditions as the
massacres began in Kibuye. Their skills were in demand and they used
them to look after Tutsi relatives, friends, patients and refugees.
They sought to protect as well as treat the sick and wounded who
flooded into the hospital. They also went to Gatwaro stadium to tend
to the thousands of people who had come from Kibuye town and the
neighbouring communes. Along with other staff from the hospital and
the Red Cross, they strove to better the desperate conditions there.
Sadly, the refugees at the stadium and at the hospital were the
victims of regular atrocities. Death had become inevitable for most
of the Tutsis of Kibuye, but the doctors cared for them regardless.
Dr Blam looked after Ann-Marie Mukantabana, then aged 14, who came to
the hospital after her family was massacred. She remembers how he
used to beg the interahamwe to leave his patients alone, adding:
He was totally committed. We survivors will never forget him, even
though he is not here now to hear how grateful we are to him.
Although he was a foreigner, he intervened to help us when our own
brothers were massacring us.

Father Joseph Boneza, Father Dieudonné Rwakabayiza
and Father Ignace Kabera
Three young priests devoted themselves to the refugees at the Parish
of Mibilizi in Cyimbogo, Cyangugu, an area devastated by the
genocide. Fr. Joseph Boneza and Fr. Ignace Kabera, who are Tutsi, and
Fr. Dieudonné Rwakabayiza, a Hutu, all refused to be evacuated when
the parish came under siege, despite calls from the Bishop of
Cyangugu asking them to join him. The refugees at Mibilizi suffered a
series of horrific assaults by the interahamwe, and the majority of
them lost their lives, but the priests did not waver. Together they
showed a unity of spirit and purpose which defied the ideology of
ethnic hatred. The priests were aware of the dangers involved in
looking after the refugees, but they continued to bring them food,
money and comfort, with the aid of a nun, Sister Bernadette.
Because of his prominent role, Fr. Boneza soon became a direct target
of the militia himself. As he tried to flee, Fr. Boneza was pulled
from the car in which he was travelling and murdered by militiamen.
Both before and after Fr. Boneza¹s death, Fr. Dieudonné and Fr.
Ignace showed that they too possessed tremendous strength and
sympathy. Virginie Uwanyirigira was among those who sought shelter at
the parish.
I can¹t find the words to praise the courage of Fr. Ignace, Fr.
Boneza and Fr. Dieudonné highly enough. These priests chose to put
themselves in the firing line. Even though the bishop came to take
them away, they refused to take the easy way out. They chose instead
to help us to resist and struggle to the death against the
interahamwe.  The worth of these priests is beyond understanding. We
have come to the conclusion that they had special qualities which God
doesn¹t give to ordinary people.

Ladislas Uzabakiriho
Ladislas Uzabakiriho was the councillor for Kinzuzi sector, in Mbogo
commune, Greater Kigali. It was due to his efforts that most of the
Tutsis in this sector were spared the suffering of 1994. Ladislas
succeeded in building a sense of unity among the people of Kinzuzi
that was so strong it was capable of withstanding the genocide. He
refused to collaborate with the other local officials planning the
killings, although he was under intense pressure to do so. He ensured
that the Hutus of Kinzuzi fought on behalf of their Tutsi neighbours.
The story of this community and its councillor is a model for lasting
peace in Rwanda.
Ladislas Uzabakiriho showed foresight and intelligence in his
management of the crisis in 1994. He argued against the rumours and
propaganda designed to promote the killings and encouraged the
residents of Kinzuzi to recognise the evil of the genocide and to
defend their sector against it. They did so, but both Ladislas and
the other Hutus endured threats and beatings from the interahamwe,
leaving some of them permanently disabled. Today, both the genocide
survivors, and the Hutus from Kinzuzi who stood by them, are deeply
grateful to Ladislas Uzabakiriho for the fortitude and solidarity
that he lived by and inspired in others. Ladislas died in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), where he had gone during the
mass exodus of July 1994. His loss is felt by all in Kinzuzi. Cassien
Havugimana, the current councillor, expressed deep admiration and
respect for his predecessor, who is also the man ultimately
responsible for saving his life.
Ladislas Uzabakiriho was a kind man, able to understand all points of
view. He knew how to settle any dispute between people without taking
sides. He was a very active man, keen to see progress in his commune,
and especially in his own sector. He had united all the residents of
Kinzuzi so that the sector was never torn apart by violence. When
there were problems caused by social divisions, he was able to solve
them.

Father Baudouin Busunyu
Many people threatened by militia violence in Kamembe, Cyangugu, took
refuge at the Parish of Nkanka. Sadly they did not find security
there, but they did discover a priest who cared deeply about their
fate and was prepared to risk his life for them, Fr Baudouin Busunyu.
Fr. Busunyu was constrained in his ability to act independently. He
had no control over the resources of the parish and operated in
secret, against the wishes of the parish priest and those of members
of his own family. His father, Michel Busunyu, was an interahamwe
leader who would have been enraged to learn of his activities, while
the parish priest had also been won over to the genocide cause.
Despite all this, the priest did his best to tackle the threats and
problems experienced by the refugees. He offered them sympathy and
understanding as well as practical assistance. He worked with a
network of priests evacuating Tutsis across the border to Bukavu in
the DRC. He walked with the refugees to Lake Kivu and paid boatmen to
ferry them to Bukavu, accompanying some of them to their destination
to ensure they were safe before returning home. On his way back from
one of these trips, Fr. Busunyu was caught by a militia patrol on
Lake Kivu. He was beaten up but bribed the militiamen to release him.
This incident only strengthened the priest¹s resolve and he continued
delivering Tutsis to safety until the end of the genocide.
Knowing that his father was a leading militiaman, and sharing the
same name, Fr. Busunyu felt it necessary to leave the country with
the RPF takeover of power, unsure of what it would bring. However, it
was while in the refugee camps in the DRC that he was killed. The
genocide survivors who owe him their lives do not know the
circumstances of Fr. Busunyu¹s death, but they mourn his loss and
cherish his memory. Micheline Mukayiranga voiced their sentiments.
Fr. Baudouin Busunyu showed us how God¹s work should be carried out.
He cared for us in our worst moments and helped those most in need.
We Christians of Nkanka are praying that God will accept him among
the saints. His courage during the genocide was almost superhuman, as
he would have been killed if they had caught him saving Tutsis.

Callixte Ndagijimana
Bourgmestres have control over security in the commune and a
responsibility to safeguard residents. But like many local
administrative officials, they often became key organisers of the
genocide in 1994. Under orders from the government to ensure that the
Tutsi population in their area was wiped out, any official found to
be resisting the killings was deemed a traitor and punished. Callixte
Ndagijimana was a rare example of a bourgmestre prepared to risk his
own position and his life to defy the authorities. His presence
ensured that the people of Mugina united against the violence
encroaching from across their borders. He acted with strength and
commitment in his battle against the interahamwe. He extended a warm
welcome to the hundreds of panic-stricken refugees who came from the
surrounding region. He gave food and supplies to Tutsis sheltering at
the Parish of Mugina, and toured all sectors of the commune to spread
a message of peace among its residents. When the interahamwe invaded
the commune and divided Hutus from Tutsis, Ndagijimana did not give
in. He alone remained with the Tutsis, defending them personally, and
with the backing of the communal police force.
Because Ndagijimana exemplified duty and brotherhood, he was ambushed
and killed on 21 April. Without his leadership, resistance to the
genocide in Mugina crumbled and the massacres of Tutsis began that
evening. Concilie Kampire¹s husband and children were among those
killed at the local Catholic parish.
Callixte died without even leaving a child to carry on his memory. He
was so brave. I don¹t think there was anyone else in the whole of
Gitarama préfecture who could have done what he did. He gave his life
for us. We can only ask the government to put his name among the
ranks of our national heroes because he died for love of his fellow
citizens and for his country. When we commemorate the loss of our
loved ones on 21 and 22 April 1994, we also say prayers to God for
Callixte¹s soul.

Father Oscar Nkundayezu
In the midst of a crisis, Fr. Oscar Nkundayezu dedicated himself to
the welfare of others. He did not hesitate to risk his own life for
those who fled to the Parish of Cyangugu in Kamembe commune. Fr.
Nkundayezu was practical and energetic in his efforts to find food,
water and medical treatment for the refugees who gathered at his
parish. Although he could not drive, he quickly learnt to do so when
it became necessary to distribute food to the displaced people at
Kamarampaka stadium, the site of repeated abductions and massacres.
He visited them on a daily basis to celebrate mass with them and to
keep their spirits up. At the nearby cathedral, Fr. Nkundayezu¹s
organizational skills were behind the establishment of a makeshift
hospital which was also used as a hiding place for those most at
risk; the ruse saved people. Even when all the refugees at
Kamarampaka stadium had been settled at Nyarushishi, which was some
distance from the parish, Fr. Oscar continued his daily visits. Fr.
Nkundayezu¹s single-minded approach was a key factor in the
establishment of network in Cyangugu to smuggle Tutsis across Lake
Kivu into the DRC. He contributed to fundraising and establishing
connections across the border. He persuaded some local people,
including a former member of the interahamwe, to transport the
refugees to safety. He took some of the refugees to the lakeshore
himself and gave them letters of introduction to his contacts in the
DRC.
Fr. Nkundayezu became ill some years ago and went to Italy for
treatment; he has now returned to Rwanda where he continues to
advocate for peace and justice. Béata Mukamusoni recalled how the
priest found food for the refugees at the parish, which she
distributed. She spoke of Fr. Nkundayezu¹s many virtues.
Fr. Oscar is well known for his simplicity and for his opposition to
all forms of evil, particularly discrimination. He sacrificed his own
needs for those of the refugees; the other priests living at the same
cathedral didn¹t do anywhere as much. He helps those in need and is
not afraid to do so even when there are risks to his own safety.

Félicitée Niyitegeka
At the St. Pierre Centre in the diocese of Nyundo, Gisenyi, Félicitée
Niyitegeka was one of the leaders of a community called the
Auxiliaries de l¹Apostolat (church assistants). A group of Hutu and
Tutsi girls were staying at St. Pierre when the violence erupted in
April 1994. Félicitée recognised the dangers immediately. She kept a
close watch over the girls, guarding them against the threat of
attack from outside and ensuring that tensions did not develop within
the community.  She alone would answer the telephone and open the
door so that the presence of Tutsi girls at the centre would not be
detected.
        Félicitée was successful in isolating the St. Pierre
community for some time. It became a haven for refugees too fearful
of remaining at home. Many of them were wounded and Félicitée went in
search of medicine to treat them. She also began evacuating the most
vulnerable across the border into the DRC, but the interahamwe
discovered her plans and put an end to this endeavour.
        Félicitée was given an opportunity to leave when her brother,
a senior military commander based in a nearby military camp, sent a
vehicle and an escort of soldiers to evacuate her, but she refused to
desert the refugees. The following day, the interahamwe came to the
centre to abduct the Tutsi girls. Knowing they were being taken to
their deaths, Félicitée insisted on accompanying them. She led them
in song and prayer until their final moments; then she too was
murdered. The survivors of Nyundo give thanks for her courage and her
strength of character. Immaculée Tuyisenge was among the abducted
girls, and is a rare survivor of this massacre. She believes
Félicitée should be canonised. Immaculée spoke of the lessons she
drew from Félicitée¹s teaching.
I saw in Félicitée a mother beyond comparison. Her teaching was
irreproachable and her advice unlimited. Félicitée was a real heroine
to the point that she even agreed to give up her own life for the
people of Rwanda and to die for them. We will always keep the memory
of what she did for us in our hearts. We pray that God will welcome
her into his kingdom. I personally think she should be proclaimed a
Saint.

Gabriel Mvunganyi
Gabriel Mvunganyi was an elderly and deeply religious man who
rejected the politics of ethnic division and was resented for this
stance even before the genocide. There were few Tutsis in his home
area of Ngoma sector, commune Mbogo, Greater Kigali, but when an
outbreak of ethnic violence threatened their lives in 1992, Mvunganyi
did all he could for them, enabling them to evade capture. Resentment
of Mvunganyi for his stand at this time was made worse by his refusal
to join any of the political parties which sprang up in the early
1990s and sought to recruit him.
By 1994, the interahamwe were aware of Mvunganyi¹s sympathy for the
plight of the Tutsis. He was seen as a threat to collective support
for the killings. The militia searched his house on a daily basis.
Despite this he hid two Tutsi girls for several days. Hostility
towards Mvunganyi remained intense throughout the genocide and he was
afraid to leave his home. But towards the end of May, he went out
with his daughter. On his way home he was spotted by soldiers, who
were among the perpetrators of the genocide in the area. They
persecuted and humiliated him, then shot him dead. Pascasie Mukarora,
a neighbour, spoke with admiration of Gabriel Mvunganyi¹s character.
Gabriel died because of his kindness and decency. He was an elderly
man known for his honesty, and respected by all his neighbours. He
was friendly with everyone regardless of their ethnic group.

Jean Marie-Vianney Gisagara
The leaders of the genocide in Butare and surrounding areas were
incensed by the strong stand bourgmestre Jean Marie-Vianney Gisagara
took against violence in Nyabisindu, Butare. At the first sign of
trouble he intervened to defend the Tutsis of his commune. Hearing of
an attack in Nyarusange sector, he took the police and defeated the
interahamwe, making several arrests. Later, he instructed local
councillors to resist the demands of the génocidaires and appealed
for calm. As the threat to his own life increased, Gisagara must have
known that the task he had set himself was both hopeless and
extremely dangerous, but he remained firm. Eventually he was forced
into hiding, but he was soon found and savagely killed.
As a warning of what would happen to Hutus who tried to extend a
helping hand to Tutsis, Gisagara was tied to a van and dragged
through the streets of his home sector of Nyanza. Eleven members of
his family, including his parents, siblings and wife, were also
killed. They were among the first victims of the interahamwe in
Nyanza. Following Gisagara¹s death, the genocide went ahead unopposed
in Nyabisindu. Pélagie Mukantagara, Gisagara¹s aunt, hopes that
Gisagara¹s actions will be remembered by many.
Gisagara was a brave man who kept the people of Nyanza united.
Unfortunately the interahamwe got the better of him and murdered both
him and his family. His name should be remembered for posterity.

Father Célestin Hakizimana
St. Paul¹s Pastoral Centre in Kigali became a refuge for around 2000
people during the genocide. Most of them survived because Fr.
Célestin Hakizimana intervened at every attempt by the militia to
abduct or murder them. He was unable to prevent the deaths of all the
refugees, but even in the face of powerful opposition he tried to
hold off the killers with persuasion or bribes. He stood face-to-face
with some of the leading perpetrators of genocide in Kigali and
argued that the people staying at his church were not guilty of any
crime and did not deserve any punishment.
Fr. Hakizimana took care of the refugees¹ physical needs at a time
when all resources were in short supply. He brought them food and
water, although on one occasion he was shot at as he went to fetch
the water. He kept the refugees alive single-handedly. He called for
help, but when none was forthcoming he defended the refugees, despite
the danger.
Many of the people Fr. Hakizimana rescued had only met him during
their brief stay at St Paul¹s, but some of them remember and pay
tribute to him each year at the time of their escape. For the
survivors of St Paul¹s he more than fulfilled all their hopes and
expectations. He remains a source of inspiration and of faith, as
Sylvérien Mudenge, a survivor, explained.
He sacrificed his own needs in order to watch over us. The proof is
the number of people who were at St. Paul¹s who survived. There were
more than 1,500. His courage should be praised and news of it spread
far and wide. He hasn¹t changed a bit. He still has the love, the
charity, in a word the heart that he showed in our time of need.

Sula Karuhimbi
A traditional healer from sector Musamo, commune Ntongwe in Gitarama,
Sula Karuhimbi, shielded some of her neighbours from the interahamwe
and assisted several other potential victims. She is a 75-year-old
widow, described by local residents as a friendly and generous woman.
Sula, who is generally known as ³Mama Domitille², hid Tutsis on her
own property and challenged the militia who came to search for them.
She is a farmer and fed the people she hid with the produce of her
own fields, housing them in a shelter she had made for the animals.
The fact that she had few resources and looked vulnerable made Sula
an unlikely protector, deflecting attention from her house. After a
time, the interahamwe came to suspect she was harbouring Tutsis, but
she denied it vehemently. She used her reputation as a healer to
convince the militiamen that she could command evil spirits and they
feared her. Sula turned away the militia on several occasions,
braving gunfire and threats.
Since the genocide, Sula has remained a staunch opponent of the
perpetrators of the genocide, testifying against them. Sula says she
finds it difficult to understand why other people in her community
did not make similar efforts to resist the genocide. Hassan
Habiyakare found sanctuary at her home. He still visits her regularly
today.
She made everyone welcome, even strangers. Karuhimbi found different
hiding places for us all, so it is hard to say exactly how many
people she saved. I ended up at their house after wandering about all
over the place. During the genocide, the Tutsis had no hesitation in
fleeing to Karuhimbi¹s house. All the people she hid are alive today.
I find her an amazing old lady. Her courage during the genocide was
unequalled. Very few people could have done what she did.

Paul Kamanzi
A shopkeeper from Muhazi in Kibungo, Paul Kamanzi was a rare
individual whose loyalty to his friends far exceeded their
expectations. A Hutu whose own brothers were sympathetic to the
extremist cause, Kamanzi severed his ties to his community and to his
family during the genocide. He did so because he was unable to live
alongside people who were either involved in the killings or who were
not prepared to try and prevent them. Kamanzi felt such deep anger
and horror about the genocide and its perpetrators that he wanted to
do all he could to distance himself from them. Even death, he
believed, would be preferable to living with the people responsible
for the slaughter of innocents. It was an uncompromising stance and
one that tragically cost him his life.
 From the outset, he did all he could to thwart the génocidaires. He
informed the Tutsis he knew about the intentions of the interahamwe
and tried to find them hideouts. Some stayed in his shop. He looked
to his father for support but was rejected. So Kamanzi chose to stay
with his friends as a refugee in the commune office. On 15 April, the
interahamwe, members of the Presidential Guard and policemen went
into action against the refugees; Kamanzi fought alongside them.
Kamanzi was shot by the interahamwe as he was trying to escape with
the survivors from Muhazi. Kamanzi¹s compassion and empathy were so
profound that he was unable to put his own survival before that of
others. His memory lives on in the hearts of the survivors of Muhazi,
among them Jean Rutaysire.
Kamanzi was kind and thoughtful. His behaviour was an example to the
rest of us. He cared about everyone regardless of their origins. He
showed that when he chose to die for us Tutsis in company with our
own boys.

Father Jean-Bosco Munyaneza
In Fr. Jean-Bosco Munyaneza, the refugees at the Parish of Mukarange
in Muhazi, Kibungo, found a leader who organised their struggle to
survive; a man of God who gave them the courage to face their deaths;
and an inspirational human being who was prepared to die on their
behalf. Refugees flocked to the parish in their thousands from 7 April
onwards. Fr. Jean-Bosco lived up to their hopes, offering sanctuary,
food and spiritual comfort. He worked tirelessly to accommodate and
assist them, but could not prevent the attacks upon the parish from
10 April. In the two days that followed, the refugees were to suffer
one assault after another with the combined forces of the
interahamwe, gendarmes and government officials from surrounding
regions ranged against them. In that time, Fr. Jean-Bosco Munyaneza
worked hand in hand with his Tutsi colleague, Fr. Joseph Gatare, to
organise resistance to the slaughter, resorting to throwing stones at
the assailants himself, when all else failed. He had several
opportunities to leave, but would not desert the refugees. As a
result he was brutally murdered. The massacre in which Fr. Jean-Bosco
died also claimed the lives of most of the refugees at the parish.
The few survivors commemorate the deaths of their loved ones every
year on 12 April and they make special mention of the priest, whom
they believe is worthy of sainthood. Gilbert Nkurayija underlined the
nature and meaning of Fr. Jean-Bosco¹s sacrifice.
Fr. Munyaneza gave his life for us. He chose to die for us when he
had every opportunity to stay alive. He showed the kind of love you
don¹t often find. He did all he could possibly have done to save us,
but in vain. Even then, he didn¹t leave us to die alone but stayed
with us even in death. We pray for his soul and remember him as we
would one of our loved ones who are dead.

Father Jean-Pierre Ngoga
The story of how Fr. Jean-Pierre Ngoga tried to prevent the slaughter
of the refugees at the Parish of Kibeho is of a hopeless but
admirable struggle against impossible odds. Although as many as
30,000 refugees congregated at the parish, they were unarmed and no
match for the thousands of killers, including armed gendarmes, who
were determined to crush them. As a Tutsi, and a defiant individual
who challenged important local officials and genocide leaders face to
face, Fr. Ngoga was under constant threat. He was remarkable in his
readiness to disregard his own safety while striving to keep others
alive. Kibeho is in Mubuga commune, Gikongoro but people also fled from
the surrounding areas. Fr. Ngoga made the refugees welcome. When
the interahamwe stormed the parish, Fr. Ngoga and the refugees fought
back. He had the chance to slip away, but chose to remain. After
several raids on the parish, militiamen and gendarmes united to
commit a huge-scale massacre on 14 April, eliminating almost the
entire Tutsi community of the area. In the aftermath, Fr. Ngoga
advised all the survivors to leave the parish and he took some of
them with him to Butare in search of safety. He was later discovered
there, imprisoned and murdered. Although the circumstances of the
priest¹s death are yet to be fully uncovered, his defence of the
refugees at the Parish of Kibeho was one of the reasons he was hunted
down. Fr. Ngoga deserves a place of honour in the history of the
Catholic Church in Rwanda, as the survivors of Kibeho testify.
Emmanuel Kaberuka listed the priest¹s admirable qualities.
He was a very good priest. He never hid the truth, but always said
what he thought. He never lost hope. He encouraged us to take on the
interahamwe and fight them off. Ngoga sacrificed his life for ours
during the genocide. The news of Pierre Ngoga¹s death was a great
blow for me.

Father Vieko Curic
When the killings began in Kivumu, people turned to Fr. Vieko Curic
for help. This expatriate priest from the former Yugoslavia had lived
in Nyamabuye, Gitarama for more than ten years, and had long worked
to promote development in the area. He was well known and loved by
his congregation and his decision to remain in Rwanda during the
genocide brought him to the heart of the local community. When most
other expatriates were evacuated, Fr. Vieko stood by the people of
Kivumu during the worst experiences of their lives. He gave practical
and medical assistance to the displaced and enabled some to escape.
Fr. Vieko was outspoken in his condemnation of the violence and
continued to preach the values of peace and unity throughout the
genocide. He was threatened on several occasions by the interahamwe,
but he held firm. In the aftermath, Fr. Vieko demonstrated his
impartiality, helping both Hutus and Tutsis to rebuild their
communities. The homes and buildings Fr. Vieko helped to fund are
still standing in Kivumu today, but sadly the priest himself is no
longer there. He was killed in January 1998 in Kigali by unknown
assailants. People in Kivumu and elsewhere in Rwanda feel distressed
and impoverished by the loss of Fr. Vieko. He was a caring man who
touched the lives of the people around him and enriched them, as is
evident from the words of Espérance Mujawamariya.
Fr. Vieko spared no effort to help us before, during and after the
genocide. We shall always remember his kindness and compassion. We
miss him. The other expatriates abandoned the Rwandese, but he did
not.  That should also be noted and put to his credit. We shall
always appreciate him, and we pray for him.

In Remembrance
In the intense climate of hatred, fear and suspicion that was
manufactured after the death of President Juvénal Habyarimana on 6
April 1994, all norms were subverted. It was no longer possible to
identify friends and enemies on the basis of past experience and no
one knew whom to trust. The men and women singled out in this book
proved themselves worthy of the faith of the desperate people who
turned to them for help. They showed love, compassion and integrity,
preserving human values as well as lives against the destruction of
the genocide. Tribute to Courage contains suggestions for practical
initiatives to identify and celebrate Rwanda¹s heroes addressed to
the people and Government of Rwanda, and to the wider international
community.  Rwanda needs to acknowledge, honour and to build upon
their legacy. The challenges of trying to build a nation at peace
with itself demand the application of similar courage in all areas of
public and private life. They should also be remembered and cherished
by all those seeking tolerance and justice around the world.
The stories in Tribute to Courage are a reminder not only of Rwanda¹s
forgotten heroes, but also of the many other Africans who, with
tenacity and resourcefulness, battle against oppression, human rights
abuses, poverty, conflict, hunger or disease. Theirs are often silent
victories. These people commonly go without recognition. African
Rights has encountered several other such people through its work. We
have therefore decided to offer an annual tribute for courage,
acknowledging values and achievements of the kind exemplified by the
heroes of this book and named in remembrance of one of them, Paul
Kamanzi.

 

 

Frodouald Karuhije saved the lives of 14 Tutsis from the communes of
Nyamabuye and Ntongwe in Gitarama, hiding them for more than a month.
He acted with determination and ingenuity, even though most of these
men, women and children were strangers. He secretly dug deep trenches
on his land, covering them with branches, soil and plants. They were
cleverly constructed and invisible to all that did not know of their
existence. Frodouald dug his first trench in the belief that his own
life would be threatened, having heard the propaganda that the RPF
³planned to exterminate all Hutus.² When the nature of the violence
became clear, Frodouald used these trenches to hide Tutsis whose
lives were under threat. Not waiting to be asked, Frodouald actually
sought them out in order to offer them a refuge.
38-year-old Frodouald, from Remera in Mukingi commune says he ³was
quite prepared to die for those Tutsis who took refuge at my place.²
His tireless efforts on their behalf are proof of his commitment.
When Phidentia Mukamwiza she arrived to join the group on Frodouald¹s
land, there was only one trench. Realising that there would not be
enough room to accommodate them all, Frodouald began digging at 9:00
p.m. and he dug all through the night until a second trench was ready
the following morning. Several survivors were surprised that this
³simple and straightforward² builder would show so much good will and
concern towards people he hardly knew. Like the others who owe their
lives to Frodouald, Phidentia will never forget him.

He is a good and courageous man. He was poor himself, but he agreed
to hide us and feed us for more than a month and a half. During the
genocide Karuhije put our needs above his own.

Valentine Umuratwa 

My family lived in Gikondo. I was 20 years old and a student in vacancy 3. I was with my mom and dad on a Wednesday night when we heard that the President’s jet plane had been shot down. We then heard a lot of shooting around the town of Kigali and it was said that nobody should go outside. My sister jumped over the wall at my house and disappeared. My brother also disappeared. We assumed he was killed.

 

I remained with my mom and we decided to go to the Red Cross building assuming that would be safe. When we reached there they refused to let us in so we stayed outside up to  Thursday morning of 8 April. That morning we saw the President’s Protection Unit with a group of thugs and a soldier. My mother and I were in a group that were captured by the Interahamwe. They pushed us together and told us to lie down on the ground. My mother told me that because she was the oldest in the family she wanted to die before me and she insisted in getting on top of me. There was much shooting and grenades were thrown into the crowd. My mom was killed and her intestines were out and her head was destroyed with her brains exposed When the shooting stopped there was blood everywhere and I was underneath the bodies of some of the dead people. I waited for a long time before I crawled out from under the pile of bodies. It was dark when I heard somebody come close. “Are you still alive?” I said yes, but my mom is dead. “Come now, we must go.” It was Pastor Bizinmugu* and his wife. ( * The name is the same as the former President of Rwanda but he is a different person) I was confused;  I said how are we going to leave my mom’s body and she said that we must leave because they are all dead So I went with some others to the home of a Hutu family. It turned out that the family was related to the former Hutu President. I could still go to see mother's body every morning until the time came when the bodies were burned. I prepared some bedsheets to cover her body after that. It was on the 15^th that  I learned that if any Hutu’s tried to hide Tutsis they were supposed to be killed as well. I was afraid to stay in that house and decided to run away. When I ran past the gate in front of their house I saw a truck that was taking some Congolese people back to the Congo. I snuck on to the truck. It was going to a place called Kacyiru.

   At a roadblock some Interahamwe told everyone to get out of the truck. One of the men knew me because I had previously studied with his sister.Other Interahamwe said, why are you talking to that Tutsi girl?  He lied to them and said that I had a Tutsi mother but a Hutu father. So they said I didn’t have to be killed. The brother of my girlfriend warned about another roadblock that was further ahead of us. Someone said that if I were to walk alone I would be killed there. So the man who knew who I was took me to a safe place.

Before many days, the RPF took over in Kigali. I got news that my sister was alive and in Goma. We were reunited. 

   Comments on gacaca and the future: Valentine stated, "one good thing about gacaca is that innocent people are being released." In recent years she was married, as shown in this wedding photo.

(Interview conducted in Gihara village on 9 March, 2007)                                                                                                                 An elderly Hutu woman named Mwitakuze Felicita saved Christine Mutimura, who was 6 at the time of the genocide. Sister Patrice Mukandutiye who was an aunt of Christine arranged the interview and was present there.  Christine is now in secondary school 5^th level.  Her family was in Gitarama. They were all murdered Felicita claimed to be an aunt of Christine. It was dangerous to do so but she was a Christian. They prayed day and night. Brought child into the home; all members of the family did their best to protect her. Even the soldier who came to Gihara in April“This is my friend’s sister. Protect her”Ntirenganya Alphonse was a close friend of Christine’s older brother. They were in seminary together and visited each others homes frequentlyFelicita’s son who was in the (Hutu) army The son was murdered in Gisenyi.  He was accused of being a Tutsi.The mother said that they assumed he was a TutsiWhen they went to the church for protection Alphonse intervened

It was said that the entire family really rescued the girl.

 Back in 1994 Bazirake was the head of a well known family in Gisenyi. His brother was Ngeze Hassan, a journalist who has since been charged with war crimes in the Arusha ICTR proceedings. Bazirake hid Tutsis in his house and took them to Goma during the spring nights of genocide. Because his brother had a reputation as a rabid Hutu nationalist Bazirake was himself not suspected of pro-Tutsi sympathies. He and others in his family used their Datsin pickup truck to hide Tutsis. He hid the Tutsis in barrels or underneath much sand that that was shoveled on top of them. Most of those who were rescued were Tutsi Muslims. Why did he do it, risking his own family in the process? All of those people he helped were human beings, just like himself, he said.   Hadj Bazirake said there were others who rescued Tutsis in the Gizenyi area, especially Muslims, but he could not remember any by name.  

What are his feelings now about gacaca? Quite positive, with some reservations.  "In gacaca courts, every Thursday they are used to testify about what people saw and what they did. The courts are very helpful. Millions of people were involved in the genocide -- that's why gacaca could help people and bring them to unity and reconciliation. The sinner should ask for forgiveness and pay back what he had stolen.

Nyamata interview 6 March 07

Back in 1990 I could see things were going to get much worse for me and my wife. She was a Tutsi and a gang of thugs visited my house, threatening to kill her. I offered to give them money if they would leave her alone. Some came back a second time and I gave them more money. Around that time many came to know that my wife was a Tutsi and  we were both suspected of having connections to the RPF. I didn’t have any information about them but some people with connections to my wife would come by our house late at night to get food. I hid my wife and others in part of the house.

 The Interhamwe started to visit on a regular basis, twice a day. Since I had already started to construct a toilet I decided to build a secret compartment which could hide some people under the ground. It had a façade with enough room to conceal 7 people. My wife had a 2 month old child at the time. I then told others a story that my wife had been killed. For a while that seemed to work. When Interhamwe began to question why we were cooking so much food there they started to visit later at night. My father warned me that I had to find another way to conceal my wife and children. The children were instructed to collect feces and we built another structure that was disguised as an out-house. Because there was so much stink and filth around it no one thought to investigate carefully. But they kept asking where I was hiding Tutsis in my family. 

The killing in the (Catholic) church had already started around that time. There was one Hutu soldier, Mukanabana, who said he would not kill a Tutsi girl he found there. So he brought her to my house. I was happy to realize that a soldier was so compassionate. I gave him my bike to take her away. They didn’t get very far. The Interhamwe took the girl from him and murdered her. The soldier was tied up and about to be killed himself but a higher ranking officer intervened to prevent that killing.             

After one dangerous encounter another soldier hung around the house. He insisted that I had money because I was being paid by the RPF. He demanded that I give him details about how many there were around and where they were hiding. At that point I had little strength, I was drained and exhausted. I repeated that they were among the many who had been slaughtered in the area. But why was there so much food in the house? Because, I said, I was preparing to flee myself. There were four radios in the house. One station was controlled by the RFP   Another station was controlled by the Interhamwe. Although the reception was often unclear when it seemed that the RPF was closeby in the area I advised the seven in the toilet hiding space to flee in their direction. 

I then learned that they were planning to burn my house down. I was very afraid for all of us. Back in my house I prayed intensely and hid under my bed when soldiers broke into the place. Some of the local Interhamwe demanded that I reveal the place where I hid some Tutsis. They said they were going to shoot me then and fired their guns in the air. Another soldier interrupted everything and “Isn’t that the Christian Pastor?” I said yes, yes -- you can search anywhere. I insisted that my wife was dead. Some of the Interhamwe who had been bribed earlier said I was innocent and shouldn’t be killed. Then they asked me for more money. I refused at first but when they demanded it again I paid what I could. An older man, Kabucoba, came by my house and begged me for help. I told him to go in the direction of the place where the RPF was then in control. I decided to go with him and we went around the road hiding in the bushes until I got to the place where the RPF was. We raised up our hands together and surrendered to them. At that point we were protected. Some of those who I had helped earlier were there with the RPF as well. 

Gacaca and the future:  After the genocide many of the killers returned to Nyamata. Many of them lied to protect themselves and confuse others. It was awful to live among them. At gacaca hearings some claimed that I was a criminal as well as them. Because some RPF soldiers knew my name as one who had saved others, they testified on my behalf and my reputation was saved.   Gacaca is like a medicine. At first it was hard to appreciate. But gradually apologies and confessions have come forth. Some neighbors have come to be reconciled.  

Interview of 6 March 07 

We first heard of Silas in hearing the story of Celine, a young woman who survived as a 9 year old child who was concealed underneath her mother and other bodies after the murder of many hundreds of Tutsis in the Nyamata Catholic Church back in April, 1994. Celine was the person who met with visitors such as us at that church, now a memorial with thousands of skulls and bones preserved there since the massacre. Now a poised and graceful 22 year old, she told the story of her own family’s ordeal and alluded to others, such as a Hutu soldier still living in the region who supposedly saved over a dozen Tutusi lives. After several inquiries that soldier turned out to be Silas. Silas Ntamfurayishyali is a large, soft-spoken man in his late 30’s who biked for 25 kilometers to meet with us in Nyamata after we requested that he speak to us. He agreed to having his recollections tape recorded. He later told us of four others who he rescued who would verify his story and provide more details                                                

I joined the national army in April of 1990. I could see signs that there would be more persecution of Tutsis back in 1992. Tutsis were murdered  and some fled from Nyatama. When the genocide really started in Nyatama in 1994 there was little chance for anyone to run away. As a soldier I was ordered to round up Tutsi families and could see the purpose was probably to kill even the women and children.  

One friend who was a Christian told me that an attack on Nyamata was planned and he urged that I cooperate with him in looting the homes there. We got into a vehicle and went there along with another soldier who was also a Christian. I wanted to warn civilians that an attack was imminent and so I claimed I would first go to buy some bread in one of the stores. I managed to warn some people but almost immediately after I did more soldiers came into the town. Again I tried to go in another direction from the main group so I could warn more civilians that there might be a massacre.  

The situation was very troubling to me and so I talked to another Hutu soldier, about what we, especially as Christians, should do. He and I both agreed we should try to rescue some of the Tutsi civilians outside of the main part of town. Our only plan was to walk people in the dark of night to the border with Burundi. We got another Christian by the name of Vincent Karemangingo who had patrol duty in the evenings to help us in this effort. Vincent told us he knew of a place about 12 kilometers from the border where where a Hutu widow lived. They could rest there. After we gathered a group of 13 people together he helped us to get to that place. Days later we managed to walk another group of 7 Tutsis to the border where they could cross in safety. Some of the soldiers in our unit heard that some Tutsis were being helped and our efforts were reported. The soldiers were instructed to capture me. I found out about this when I was coming back from the second trip when I phoned the main gate to the base where a man named Pascal was on duty. He warned me that I might be killed if I didn’t hide. At first I didn’t believe him so I called another, a Hutu, who I knew better. Then I sneaked back to where I could change from my dirty, dusty clothes so it would be less obvious that I had been on the run that night. I went to the bank inside the barracks at the camp. The commander had already ordered the banker to withhold my money if I should request to withdraw my savings. I then made up a story about my brother desperately needing food and left my bankbook with a teller who went back to his superior to ask for permission to release my money. I then realized that I would be captured if I waited for the teller to return. I fled from the bank and hid behind the toilet area. As soon as it seemed there was no one looking I jumped over the wall around the base. I had my uniform and my duffle bag and knew where the roadblocks were positioned to catch Tutsis trying to escape. So I was able to zigzag my way to the border in about 8 hours. There I claimed to be seeking admittance as a civilian refugee. I concealed my identification card from the border guards.  

Because the Burundi guards were suspicious of me I decided to admit I was a soldier. That shocked them and seemed to make them afraid of me. They were suspicious and didn’t trust what I told them. Obviously I was tired, hungry and weak at the time. Luckily another soldier who happened to be a Christian in the Burundian army came forth. When I was interrogated further I told them everything, including how I got in trouble with my own unit. The border guards then checked with some of the refugees who I had helped to escape and then confirmed what I told them. After that most of the guards believed that I was truthful. I was taken into the refugee camp where most of the people were Tutsis. The people who I helped to save welcomed me but there were still some who were suspicious. I was still thought to be a spy by some because I had been a soldier in the first place. So I was put in prison for half a day before being finally released.

Then Burundian journalists came to interview me. My name and photo were in the news; I was even on television that was watched back in Rwanda. So then it was clear that I was an enemy of the Rwandan army and I was welcomed as kind of a hero in the camp. The RPF send some younger men to talk to me about what I knew. They wanted information about how others might be helped out of the country were the genocide was unleashed. They also came to encourage me to join with them in their struggle to stop the killings. So I was recruited into the RPF. I was in the RPF up until 1998. Since then I have worked as an electrician, contracting for odd jobs. I have had four sons and five daughters. Two of my  boys died, one in combat fighting against the RPF another was killed by the genocidiares in one of their border attacks in 1999. When the camps around Goma were dismantled there were many casualties but we have to remember who was in those camps. It was the Interhamwe and their families, and they were well armed.  Looking back at the genocide I did know of several soldiers in the army with me who were trying to resist the orders to kill Tutsis and tried to protect civilians.   

On gacaca and the future::  I have testified often at gacaca hearingsDo I fear for myself and family when I testify? Yes, especially at night I have been fearful, but lately people in the villages are cooperating in watching out for one another. And I have faith that God will protect me.Another man I served with called Innocent was called to testify but he left the country. Many don’t tell the truth to protect themselves and their reputations.   Gacaca is a good thing even though there are many who refuse  to participate and don’t tell the truth      Some witnesses are still being killed. But there are confessions and those are what make forgiveness possible

English translation from interview by Edmond Murenzi:

I have decided to testify about what I did during terrible
times of April 1994.

I was 21, student at ETO Kibungo and I was in Easter
holidays. The situation was bad and we had just lost our
one remaining parent. Almost all of the children of my family
were at home, those from my aunt, my uncles to pay us a visit
and sympathise with the death of my parent.An another thing is
that almost all these children had parents from a different
ethnic group i.e one Hutu another Tutsi. As we were taught at
school, nearly all of us looked like Tutsis.

We had no father, all of us children were alone.
I was the eldest boy. We used to be with children from different
families till the President plane's crash on 6th April
1994. None of us knew a piece of news till morning on
7th when my neighbor told me the news that
Habyarimana's plane had been shot down. I told the
children and I went to the nearest shop to buy batteries
for my radio, I remember my neighbor told me "you can
take it for free it's not necessary to pay, we will be
killed soon". I knew that things were getting worse. I
took it and I began to listen to the radio. Announcers
called on people to kill Tutsis. It was sad to hear that.
After 2 days, people began to take refuge in the Birenga
Commune's office which was close to our house, we saw
our friends going there, we wanted to do so but we
hesitated, we decided to wait.

Meanwhile, some groups had already begun to plunder
and destroy displaced people's houses. We saw them do it.
Sometimes I went to the Commune office to pay a visit to
my friends and had discussions I told them what the situation
was in their homes.

Then the massacres started; Interahamwe attacked the
Commune's office, I remember in the afternoon I was in
my bed when the little ones woke me up saying
Interahamwe were attacking displaced people to the
Commune office, they were in cars, they made believe
that they were going away but they drove round 2 km
from the Commune office and they came back. Few
minutes after, we heard shootings and I remember we
said "it's over, they are killed". We could do
nothing.

Early in the morning, I heard a voice calling me from
behind the window "Claude open for me". I opened to
see who was calling me, it was MUTESA Emmanuel called
ZOZO my friend, he was half-breed of a German and a
Rwandan lady (he showed us the picture he received in
1992). He fled from the Commune's office where all
members of his family were killed. I told to come in
and hide him in the ceiling but it was not strong but
because he was young he tried to stand between the walls
separating the rooms. We were lucky none saw him, I told
the little ones to keep silence about Zozo's presence,
I fed him and some nights he came down to stretch his
legs, it was very sad to see him because sometimes he
couldn't move due to the numbness.

As you understand, I was obliged to go out to cock my
ears, some said that Zozo was killed in the Commune
office, among them there were some who plundered in
Zozo's house and he heard them as he was above the
living room.

Meanwhile, there was a man called Louis, our neighbor.
He was a Hutu but he brought his wife who was a Tutsi
and his children, for fear that they could be killed. He
had problems with one of the Interahamwe, I didn't
even tell the lady about Zozo's presence. I was used
to feeding him at night when Louis took his wife and
children. That lasted for a week but I heard later that
Louis and his family had been killed in Gisenyi, Louis
had a brother-in-law who was a Minister and he tried to
protect him but in vain. He were killed. Only one of his
children survived.

My brother, who didn't live with us, worked at Red
Cross. He gave me money before 6th april. I used that
money to buy food and I used to tell Zozo about the
situation outside. One day, I brought him down so that
he could have a wash, it was about 10:00 am and I told
the little ones to look out to see if someone tried to come in.

When Zozo began to wash, I was with him in the room,
Some Interahamwe came but I was warned before they entered
into our enclosure. Zozo went beneath the bed and I
took off my clothes to make believe that I was having
a wash, they asked the little ones who is the house,
they responded that I was. I interrupted immediately by
looking out of the window, I recognized one of the
Interahamwecalled Kinini. I told him I am having my wash
and he lookedthrough the window and he saw that I was stark-naked.
He told others to go because no one was there. We knew that they
were told we were hiding some Tutsis. We were so afraid none could
breathe because if Zozo was found, they would kill all of us, that
is the way it was. When they found someone in your house, they would
order you to kill him and they killed you after having killed him
especially that we were not confident and some would take the occasion
to plunder or to kill us because we had a Tutsi parent. Another reason
is that they didn't like us because nearly all of us were in secondary
school (many don't reach that level in rural areas). After the departure
of the Interahamwe, Zozo returned to the ceiling where he stayed until
the arrival of the RPF in Kibungo.

When the RPF was in the neighborhood people fled
because of the war; all my neighbors fled but I didn’t
want to let Zozo alone in the ceiling; when all the people
had fled, I brought him down, dressed him gave him a
hat so that he couldn't be recognizable but it was
difficult because he was a Muzungu. The little ones
ran away also. We stayed, me and Zozo, preparing how to
leave because we heard shootings but we didn't. There
were many road blocks, he could still be killed. He told me
to go and see the situation. He stayed in the house, I
left him with the keys. When I tried to go back it was too
difficult. The Interahamwe said that RPF was killing many so
that people must flee with them. The Interahamwe
killed those who came back to their house believing
that they were joining the RPF troops. The odds was in
his Zozo’s favor(as he told me later after the genocide).
The RPF arrived and he noted that it was not the ordinary
army and he went out, approached and told them the
story, he himself enrolled in the RFP since then he was
demobilized. He eventually returned to his home and he is
now married.

When I fled we had problems because the little ones
were accused of being Tutsis. I had an ID I got from a
friend in which it was written HUTU but they didn't believe
us. One night our companion deserted us. That caused us
problems at the road block. We managed to get to
Akagera lake but the Interahamwe refused to get us
across into our neighboring country Burundi (south of
Rwanda). They said "where are your parents? They have
been killed, so you must be Tutsis". One Burundian who
worked for my father recognized me and said we were
Hutus but they did not believe him. So he decided to
take us himself. We crossed the lake but it was very
difficult because in water it was full of corpses. We
arrived in Burundi, but we did not get into the camp. Many
Tutsis were killed in the camp or in that area after
crossing in Burundi. We rented a house but then we decided
to go to Tanzania because he heard news that the Red
Cross went there and, as I have said, we had a brother
who worked in Red Cross. There we saw him so we went in
camp. I worked for LWF and sometimes I went to the
border to take refugees back in Rwanda and I saw some
of my friends who were already in the army, they told
me "you can come back home; no problem". So, we then came
back to Rwanda.

UMULISA ODETTE.

    I was born in Kibuye province at a place called Rubengera sector. The genocide started after I had gone to visit one of our family friends in Kigali.  Maria was her name; she was a Hutu but a good friend to my mother and by that time, it was a holiday time.The war started after the shooting down of the president’s plane and I had stayed there for three days. I remember it was in the morning when things were becoming bitter and she told me that it is better you leave my house and go away. I was so surprised to hear all this from her simply because I had come to visit her and I didn’t know anybody in Kigali apart from her. I couldn’t even find the way or the road which could take me from Rugunga to Kiyovu. I asked her why she was chasing me out of her home. She replied that you’re a Tutsi girl and the Tutsi have shoot the president’s jet so you can not be with me, for sure I knew that Habyarimana the president had been killed but I minded less because it wasn’t me who killed him.   But before the war I remember I used to ask my mother the reason as to why we didn’t have a grandfather and mother and how come in your family there are no elders? Whenever I would ask her about that she seemed to feel sad. When I was 14 years she told me that you have now grown up and I am going to tell you the reason why I don’t have my father here. She told me that in 1963 the leaders and authorities used to list or write down the names of Tutsi men and boys who were above 14 years. It’s because of that reason that your grandfather was taken with other men into the vehicle and they were killed in a place we don’t know. It was hard for me to believe because I could not imagine a person would be be killed simply for being a Tutsi; I continued to ask her: After they were taken, what was your reaction? She said to me nothing since they had nowhere to report to simply because authorities were doing it.   Back in 1994 I remembered what my mother told me some years before then when the woman I had gone to visit chased me saying that I was a Tutsi girl. After chasing me out of her home, truly, I had nowhere to go, simply because I was new in the area and, to me, it was like it was the end of the world. I insisted and asked her where should I go now? I don’t look like a Tutsi because I have a big and large nose and the Tutsi they said that they have long and small noses -- why don’t you allow me to stay with you? My request was rejected and she said to me that the Tutsi have done bad act of killing our beloved president, so better that I go away immediately. I went out of her house and entered the toilet which was outside and reaching there I found another who was staying in Rugunga. She was so scared and asked me what I had come to do in the toilet?  I said to her that I have come to hide here so that they don’t kill me. She again asked me if I was not related to the woman I had visited and I said that she is just a friend to my mother. It was a hard time for me because I even asked the woman I found in the toilet, are we going to be killed, really? She said that it’s likely that we have to be killed and advised me to pray to GOD to forgive me all the sins I committed so that in case I die I may be welcomed by the Lord in heaven. She had a baby of one and half a year who was making a lot of noise, crying every time. I left that place and went back to Maria’s compound and again she chased me. Near her home there was another woman who was Tutsi who told me to stop behaving like a child so we can look to find somewhere to hide. But even she had no idea where to go, so I decided to return to Maria’s compound.   She went to call the interahamwe to come, take me away, and be killed. This is because they had already killed many people. Someone called Billy came to take me but when he realised that I was the one then he was scared because he thought I was related to Maria. He ordered me to go with him. He had weapons all over his body and a lot of blood on his clothes, and he was telling me that we should go together and he would introduce me to the soldiers so that they might not kill me. I requested that he leave me while I go to clean myself and I gave him time to come and pick me up and he agreed. The Tutsi woman who was a neighbour named Merenia said to me, let us find somewhere to hide, otherwise our lives are in danger and once that man comes back again, we are going to be killed immediately. I agreed. She knew some people around but when we reached their homes they were not there. The woman we had gone to was called Theresa but she was a Hutu. We sat behind her door but with a lot of fear simply because it was broad day light and interahamwe were killing the Tutsi whenever they could find you.    

 Foolishly I later went again back to Maria’s place. Again she said to me that I should go to Doctor Jean’s family and see if they are still alive, I went there immediately but what I witnessed -- oh GOD, it was beyond my imagination because they had slaughtered Doctor Jean who was a Hutu but in the process of protecting his wife, who was a Tutsi, they killed him and all his children, and wife and there was a lot of blood in the house like tap water flowing in the sitting room. While at the Doctor’s place, I collected some pictures of them because among the bodies they had not seen one girl and I thought that if I was to see her I could give them to her. They had looted every thing in the house.

Then I went back to Maria’s and gave the pictures to her sister and told her that please make sure you keep them because me, I am likely to die, so you will give these picture to her if you find her (Irene) alive. A sister of Maria’s took the pictures with me to a banana plantation where we covered them in soil.    I went back to Maria’s and she told me to get a hoe and dig a big cave where I could hide myself, I tried to do that but it was impossible because I had no strength to do that and I got tired and decided to stop. As I was planning what to do, Merenia came back to me and said please let us try again to go to Theresa’s and see if she is back. Unfortunately she was not around. I was uncomfortable to that place because I could hear a voice telling me that once you stay here for long you will die.   I left Theresa’s place I just walked while on my way I met a group of interahamwe with many Tutsis lined up, I was also included, and we continued to walk on our way again we met Merenia and they took her also with us, then we reached were they had planned to kill us. There we were lined up according to height and I was in the middle of the line because the first part of the line was for young children of 4 to10 years. We were so many children who were crying, asking forgiveness, saying that we will not be Tutsis again. One child said to his father, why don’t you tell them that we will not be  Tutsis again, but his father I had nothing to say.   Immediately they began to shoot from the first line, then the second line and for me I was on the third line but due to much fear I then fell down and bodies covered me. I was covered by dead bodies. On my God -- I slept in the blood up to around 3:00 a.m.Merenia was also shot but she was still alive and she said cried out, Umulisa are you dead? I replied no, but my body was full of blood in ears, noise and in mouth, I suspected that I was also shot because of the blood. We crawled and slid down in the valley and we washed our clothes in order to remove blood all over our bodies.Even now, years later, that whenever I give a testimony of what I witnessed or what happened, I sense the smell of blood inside my body. 

Later on, after we washed, we went back to Theresa to ask her to hide us but she said that no -- it is tough and bitter -- I cannot hide you. After her refusal we went to a busy area with Merenia and blood was coming out of her body at higher rate. We stayed there for a while and all of the time we were very hungry and thirsty, especially her, with the problem of much blood coming out of her body. Merenia said we should leave this place and go to Hélène’s place were she had kept her clothes Upon reaching there Helene’ told us that I have nowhere to hide you because my husband is also killing people, she brought the suitcase and Merenia told me to pick the clothes that would fit me. I remember I chose a nice outfit and whenever I think of this I laugh at myself because it reminds me how childish I was.    After getting the nice clothes we went back to the busy area again but Merenia was not content to stay there for along time and she said to me, I have a national identity card as a  Hutu so I am going to try to see if I can go to Butare. I told her please don’t go, because your physical appearance matters, and nobody will allow you to go and immediately they will kill you. She insisted and decided to go and that was the last time I saw her. What I know is, she probably died on her way.

  I remained alone in the busy area because Merenia had gone; I remember it had rained heavily, I was hungry, thirsty and decided to go back to Helena’s place again even though her husband had been killing people. When I reached there she was again surprised to see me again and see that I was still alive but she advised me to go back to Maria, the one I had first visited. I had nothing else to do so I then went back to Maria. She was very surprised to see me alive after such along time because by that many people had been killed in the area. She said to me  – Umulisa, I have a solution for you. Better go to Sibomana who was responsible for issuing national identity cards and convince him how you lost your identification, but say you are a Hutu. She directed me to the road but I took a different route. Unfortunately I found a roadblock with five interahamwe.    They stopped me and asked me where I was going and where I had come from? I said to them that I was from Maria’s place. One of militia said, why are you deceiving me -- I know all people who stay with Maria -- how is it that I don,t know you! He said to me that you are a cockroach (Inyenzi). I said that I am not, but he insisted and said I was a Tutsi girl. I again said no – please! He asked me my name and I told him that I am Umulisa. He laughed and laughed and said that Hutu's don't have names like that, therefore you are Tutsi. The interahamwe told me I had better tell me the truth because if they proved me wrong, then I would be killed immediately. He ordered me to sit down; he looked and checked my fingers and legs and after checking he said, you are Tutsi. Then I finally agreed. I was told to stand there and he went a distance away. He was planning to kill me but among the militia, there was an old man who resembled a Tutsi and I looked at him kindly so that  he might help me. But he didn’t help me. So that interahamwe called Ruzindana targeted me in his trigger but as he was going to shoot another militia man told him to stop. He said don't kill that girl there because she will smell for us and we do not have a hoe so that we can bury her. Better leave her and wait for the vehicle which has gone to bring other Tutsi to be killed and she will be included. As time was passing by, another militia came and asked them what about that girl and what is she doing there? They replied that she is a cockroach. He said he doubted that girl really is a cockroach! Then Ruzindana told him that you have not understood what I have been saying, she is a Tutsi girl.  Immediately that interahamwe came near me and asked me my names, where I was going and where I was staying? I told him my names and I told him that I was staying in Kibuye in place called Rubengera. Luckily, the man knew the place because he was also from the same area so he become sort of kind to me and asked me if I knew a pastor called Nzabahimana, I told him that he is my pastor and his wife is a good friend to my mother -- oh God, the man was related to my pastor’s wife!   He went back to his militia and he requested that they not kill me. They agreed because must have convinced them very sincerely. He then returned to me and said that they have agreed to spare you. So where are you going now?  I told him that I was going to Habimana to get an identification which described me as a Hutu. He advised me not to go there because the man there was killing many Tutsis. Then he requested me to go with him but I didn’t trust him. Although he had requested his fellows not to kill me, I feared he would probably rape me. I asked him to let me go back to Maria and inform her that I would not see Habimana but in my mind I was planning to go back to the busy area because it had become my safest place.    In the evening I went to Helena and she gave me something to eat and told me that she was going to hide me for a day and then we would plan where to go. She was willing to hide me but her husband was an interahamwe killer, so she never wanted me to be killed at her place. She tried to find other people to hide me and then I returned to the bush but I could see people passing and I saw Buhiri, one of Theresa's sisters. She was afraid to talk to me but promised to ask Theresa to hide me. In the evening Helena came to pick me up and she took me to Theresa. Then I was given a room next to a sitting room but interahamwe were searching for me because they had not seen my body among the dead bodies. I stayed with Theresa for three weeks and I was with a little boy called Mishove, whom I considered as my brother. One time he came and said to me that today I will die! I asked him why are you saying this, but he told me that he was just feeling it. Nevertheless, when it was approaching midnight, Mishove told me that he was missing his mother and when I tried to stop him from leaving he vehemently refused. While trying to reach his home he was killed with all of his family members except for one boy who jumped over the vehicle that had taken them to be killed.   I told Helena that Theresa had ordered me to leave and go elsewhere. Oh God, she was surprised to hear this but she again promised to go to another woman and request that she hide me. That woman was staying in Biryogo. The problem was how to reach there because of the roadblocks. But that woman by the name of Mama Sania had agreed to hide me. Helena explained how I could get to her place but due to my fear I got lost. I came to a roadblock, and there was an old man standing there. He stopped me and told me that I was a cockroach and I said no, please! He ordered me to sit down and I realised that he was very old and I decided to run away because he was unable to run after me.I went to another house across from Mama Sania’s house and then I knocked and a man (Emmanuel) opened the door and asked me where I was going. I told him and then he directed me to Mama Sania.

When I got there and I greeted her, I told her the reason why I had come to her place. She said to me, Umulisa I will not be able to hide you! Immediately I became desperate or I lost all my senses and asked God -- why don’t I get killed instead of suffering this way because everybody has rejected me? I went outside crying and crying. Then she said to me, Umulisa, I am a Moslem and I fear God and once I leave you and you get killed, then God will judge me for not having helped you, so please come back into my house.   

When I entered the house, I found many people in the house and most of them were similar to me. There were some older and there was a girl who had faced a terrible situation because they had raped her and she was stinking in her private part and bleeding from there. I got very worried about this girl because she was in pain and then I started to look after her as Mama Sania was trying to get some people who were cut into pieces but not yet dead and bring them in. I remember one time she brought a man who was cut all over his body, he was called Minani and she gave me the responsibility to look after him and try to prepare hot water for his wounds by washing them.This man, after gaining strength, asked me the relationship I had with Mama Sania. I just said to him that she is my relative. He said but you look to be Tutsi! I also asked him the reason why he wanted to know my tribe. He said that I am Hutu from Burundi. Then I asked him how come he was in Rwanda? He said that they were staying in a refugee camp in Bugesera, but when the war reached that place he was very afraid. I continued to help him as I was doing it without considering that he was Hutu, as his life continued to be worse he told me I am going to die but with evil in my heart. I asked him, why? He said that I hated the Tutsis! Oh God, I got scared and worried. However he then said to me, I ask you to forgive me because I realised I hated Tutsi for no good reason because I have learned a lesson from you and I asked God to forgive me for having hated Tutsis. I told him that I have forgiven you. We then shook hands and he promised to pray for me so God will rescue me. After a week, the RPF took over Kigali city and all people were advised to leave the houses and go to St Andrew's Church. Mama Sania told all of us to go to St Andrews and she remained with that girl who was sexually abused (raped). We went to St Andrews and we stayed there until the war ended in Kigali and when I went back to Kibuye all my people had been killed except my young brother who survived. Then I was taken to an orphanage centre in Gitarama. I went and brought him, we stayed together. My mother had not yet died and  I tried to get medicine for her but simply because she was beaten so badly she died immediately after the war.   

On the Gacaca issue it’s good simply because if those who killed confess and ask forgiveness at times it helps the survivors to get to know where their loved one’s bones are and then bury them with the respect they are due. But, in addition, Gacaca causes headaches for me, especially when people who killed are frankly speaking without fear or sadness, they then release them without even punishment. I consider it bad for me to attend Gacaca because whenever I do attend (afterward) I spend like a week, very sad and traumatized. On reconciliation, they should find another term to use because according to my understanding, reconciliation means sharing views, secrets and every thing with the person who killed your relatives and family members That is very hard for me -- maybe (alright) for those who still have some relatives but not for me. I can’t reconcile or unite with those who killed my parents. This will never be for me and it is because of that, I had hated God but later I asked for forgiveness. The reason why I had hated God is that his son did not suffer the way the Tutsis suffered because he suffered for only three days and later he was resurrected but the Tutsis suffered for much longer after the world was created. I don’t say that we should (seek) revenge against those who killed our beloved people but pretending is not reconciliation.  I pray to the almighty that my children should never face this (again) in their lives because it was really to shake the hands with the devil. Because Tutsis were like goats the way they were slaughtered from 1959-1994. I have two children now, a girl and a boy, 5 years and 11 years respectively. I am happy with my children. The boy resembles my father, who I loved so much, more than anybody in this world. 

Note: After this interview was conducted by Stephen Gatsinzi in the spring, 2007, it was discovered that another, shorter version of Umilisa Odette’s story was published in the 2006 Aegis book entitled We Survived: Genocide in Rwanda - 28 Personal Testimonies

Most of the names above and below were identified as Hutu; those who were were identified as ethnic-Tutsi are noted as (T) below. Those already recognized as "heroes" in the Gisozi-Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre are identified with asterisks below.

Names                                                             Places                                  

Therese Nyirabayovu                                       Nyarungenge, Kigali

Fredouald Karuhije *                                       Nyamabuye Gitarama

Dr. Wolfgang Blam (FRG) with Dr. Leonard Hitimana (T) Kibuye hospital

Gitabita Nyirantaba                                           Kibuye hospital

Fr. Joseph Boneza (T)  (d. 1994)                      Mibilizi parish

Fr. Ignace Kabera (T)                                      Cyimbogo, Cyangugu

Fr. Dieudonne' Twakabayiza                            Mibilizi parish

Fr. Ladislas Uzabakiriho                                  Kinzuzi-Mbogo, Kigali

Fr. Baudouin Busunyu                                     Kamembe, Cyangugu

Callixte Ndagijimana (d.. 1994)                       Gitarama, Mugina parish

Fr. Oscar Nkundayezu                                    Kamembe commune Cyangugu

Felicite'e Niyitegeka (d                                    Nyundo Gisenyi

Gabriel Mvunganyi                                          Ngoma-Mbogo, Kigali

Jean Marie Vianney Gisagara *(d. 1994)       Nyabisindu, Butare

Fr. Celestin Hakizamana                                  St Paul's, Kigali

Sula Karuhimbi *                                            Musamo-Ntongwe, Gitarama

Paul Kamanzi (d. 1994)                                   Muhazi, Kibungo

Fr. Jean-Bosco Muyaneza (d. 1994)               Muhazi, Kibungo

Fr. Jean-Pierre Ngoga (T) (d. 1994)                Kibeho

Fr. Vieko Curic                                               Kivumu

Damas Mutezintare Gisimba *                         Nyamirambo

Innocent Ndamyimana Gisanura *                   Bisesero

Tharcisse Mukama                                           Bugasera

Emmanuel Mugenzire                                       Murabi

Yahya Nsengiyumva *                                     Kigali

Mama Sania*                                                  Kibuye 

Silas Ntamfurayishiyali                                     Nyamata

Hadj Bazirake Jumaine                                    Gisenyi 

 Mwitakuzi Felicita                                          Gihoma

Epimaque Munyiragwe                                    Murama

Etienne Nyangenzi                                           Kigali

Note: This list above is not intended to be exclusive. It represents a tiny fraction of thousands who died or risked their lives in efforts to save Tutsis and others during the 1994 genocide. Hopefully the names and the stories below will discourage readers from thinking about the genocide in dangerously stereotypical terms.

                                                 Clara's story

    The war started when I was staying with a member of my family in his village* after the president (Habyarimana) was killed. It was in the morning when a friend of my relative  informed him that the president's jet plane was shot down. As my relative was going to work while opening the gate he encountered a road block but they didn’t harm him. He continued to work as he normally did but all of the people were scared and they didn’t know what to do. The authorities from the government had started to write lists of the people who were to be killed and my relative was included. On that night all of our neighbours left their homes and went to hide themselves but the wife to my relative refused saying that we can’t leave her husband because he won’t know where to find us so we waited for him to come back. At around 7:00 p.m. my relative came back only to find that our neighbours had gone away except for a neighbor's family that was still around because he was Hutu. Another family of an old man whose son had married my sister had also not gone away. The neighbor's came to spy to see if we were still around.    My relative told us that we should not worry and that no one was going to kill us and he told the house girl to prepare food for us. But many people had gone to hide in the province church and the stadium. At around midnight we heard bullets and shootings and people who had gone to the church and stadium all were killed. My relative and the old man whose son had married my sister were patrolling at night to protect us but immediately after the shooting, they realised that things had become too dangerous for us and they considered other strategies on how to get away from the area. In the morning relative told his driver to take me to another village  with my brother because that’s where my mother was staying. As we were going on our way we found one woman who was shot with a lot of blood all over her body and then she told us that in Kigali people were dying at high rate because Hutu are killing many Tutsis. There was nothing more we could to do at that moment so we went ahead to that village, where the killing of Tutsis by Hutus had not yet started.   After a week, my relative and his family came to that place to be with us, simply because it was becoming terrible to them and on Saturday, they came to stay with us. There was the radio station RLTM which was encouraging Hutus to slaughter the Tutsi’s but Tutsis were the majority in the area, so they organised themselves to fight against the Hutu who were coming to kill us. This process continued up to the time that the Tutsi’s were defeated because the interahamwe had a lot of weapons and ammunition but the Tutsi’s had only the spears and arrows. An interahamwe group came from the area close by and the Tutsis realised that that group was much stronger than them and the only hope was to run away. As a result we got scattered and the people with whom I as was with went to a nearby neighborhood. The interahamwe burned the houses and looted a lot of property including cows, goats and much more. The interahamwe used to say at first that women and girls will not be killed and that they wanted only men and energetic boys although we soon learned they were lying. My mother told us to go back home with all my sisters because my brother had been captured. It was Friday night I don't remember very well the date when  a group of interahamwe came to our home to kill all of us and my mother gave them some property so that they may not kill us, good enough they went happily but there was another group of militia led by a man called Jeremiah, who was our friend before the war even though he was a Hutu. When my mother told him what had happened to some people who came and took some property from her, * he asked who are they? Then my mother told him that they were called Abaziraguhunga from Nyacyoma. Then Jeremiah went and returned all they had taken because they feared Jeremiah.   On Friday at night a group of interahamwe came back and knocked the door and mother asked them who are you? They insisted and told her to open up. She refused and shouted a lot. Jeremiah came with his group and stopped them, and in the process, one militia was killed because the two groups fought. This added to their anger and the next day they came I remember very well. My mummy was sweeping the compound. They took her in the alley and for me I was in my bedroom sleeping so one interahamwe came and said look we had left cockroach here and near me there was the baby. Immediately the baby was beaten on the wall and he died so they took us with the mother but one of my elder sisters had gone to fetch water and she was far from us but I was with two brothers, one in secondary school and another in primary four, they pulled all the clothes from my mama and she remained naked as she was born and she was beaten seriously and after that they passed a long stick into her vagina (private part) and it passed through her body to her head While they were in the process of killing my mama my brothers took off and ran away because the interahamwe had concentrated so much on my mama but for me I felt I couldn’t leave my mama alone. When I realised that my mama was nearly dying I ran away and one interahamwe ran after me. I remember his name.* He beat me all over my head and I fainted. Blood was coming out of my head as I was on the ground in the compound at home but by midnight I gained some consciousness and sneaked down to an old man whom my father had once given a cow as a sign of love.   When I reached there I was with my sister who had gone to fetch water. The wife of that old man told him to choose between those children and us because (she said) if you allow them to stay here or sleep here I will leave you and go away. The old man was totally confused but he decided to take us to his second wife. We slept there but my head had wounds and blood was flowing, so they removed my hair and tried to treat me with local medicine.   On Sunday we went to a place called Inyaruvumu to an old lady whom we were related to and I was with my brother. An eyewitness told us that our father had been killed in a place called Kimonde. At the place called Inyaruvumu we stayed for three days but as time passed the militia suspected that there were some children who were staying with the old lady. She then separated us so that they could not kill all of us at once. She was Tutsi but had given them one hundred thousand francs and more cows so that they would not kill them.  Before leaving the place my cousin came and told me to please come and see where you can hide because the militia will kill you as well as that old lady because they had been warning her seriously. Immediately we had to go but at that moment I was not with my brother because we had separated, nearly reaching the place where my cousin wanted to hide me. She told me to pass in front of a house because you never know, someone may call you and hide you.   Luckily, a woman whispered to me so then I went over to her and she asked me where I was going, I told her that I have nowhere to go. Then she told me to enter the house. She was called Maria. I stayed there with their children but the interahamwe could come to see if there were some other people inside the house, so one time they came and said that we don't know that young girl -- is she is yours? The woman told them that she is the daughter of my brother who stays in Kigali, called Karara, and that she came for holidays. Then they were quiet. After two weeks, the RPF arrived in that place and I was taken to an orphanage centre in Nyanza. For years afterward life was very difficult. Eventually I moved in with my cousin although she can not provide much to me. At least we live in harmony and peace. My mother had paid for my relatve's school fees and he is rich now but he does not remember and I am no longer interested in him. The man and wife who hid me, I love them and I normally try to visit them whenever I can get transportation because they played a big role for me and I remember his son fought me but his father seriously beat him. He is still alive and stays in Gitarama.

 (On the subject of Gacaca)  I don’t always attend them because whenever I see people who killed my parents I get traumatized and I remember the days of genocide. This is because the interahamwe who killed my mother and brothers are still alive and recently they were released because they had confessed and admitted what they did. When we asked them to take us where they killed our relatives and my mother as well they refused but since I knew the place we collected the bones and buried them in respectfully.    More recently, my brother was nearly killed by one of those who were released from the prison. Simply because he had told him not to go beyond the boundary of his land, the interahamwe got a hoe and cut his head. Fortunately, my brother did not die, he was rushed to hospital, and he later recovered. The interahamwe was imprisoned and he later died. 

   On the reconciliation question, it’s not easy. What I can say is that you can’t forget a person who played a virtuous role for you as well as you can’t forget the one who did evil things to you. Because of that I say that it’s not easy to sit down and discuss things with those who killed all your relatives but of course we can’t seek revenge with them because we need to show the difference between us and them.

*** Note: On how "Clara" now survives at school, she told Stephen Gatsinzi that the students normally help her with some supplies and clothing because she maintains good, friendly relations with them. Her real name and the names of several places and individuals in this story were removed at her request, for her own privacy and safety.