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With these powerful words, Mugesera Antoine, a member of Rwanda Elders Advisory Forum, captures the painful reality that followed Rwanda’s independence on July 1, 1962.

In an exclusive interview with IGIHE, he reflects not only on the symbolic and historic significance of that day, but also on the deep disappointment that unfolded in its aftermath, a betrayal of national hope that still echoes through Rwanda’s history.

Mugesera was among those present at the official Independence Day celebrations in Kigali in 1962. He remembers the moment vividly: the excitement, the expectation, the joy. After decades of colonial rule under Belgium, Rwandans believed independence would open the door to peace, dignity, and national unity. But for many, that dream was quickly and violently shattered.

“For about three years leading up to independence,” he said, “Rwanda had been going through unusual events. King Rudahigwa had died, political parties emerged in 1959, houses were set on fire, people were burned alive, things never seen before in Rwanda. People were being killed… We dreamed that when independence came, things would change for the better.”

But independence did not mark the beginning of reconciliation. Instead, the trauma that began in 1959, following the fall of the monarchy, intensified.

Tutsis were targeted, many were killed, others had their homes destroyed, and thousands fled to neighboring countries as refugees. Rwanda was being torn apart, not by its colonial masters, but by internal divisions that colonial rule had helped create and deepen.

Mugesera recounted that many Rwandans were bewildered by this violence. “We used to ask our parents, ‘What is happening? Why are people you once lived with setting homes on fire?’ They would say, ‘The Belgians turned us against each other.’ So we thought that once the Belgians left, Rwandans would live together again, just as they had done peacefully for centuries.”

Even amid the bloodshed, there remained hope. Songs were sung with lyrics like, “Let the Belgians go back home so that we can become Rwandans again.” This hope, however, began to fade soon after the official celebration. Mugesera explained that within days of independence, violence returned.

The Inyenzi, a group of young exiled Rwandans denied the right to return home, launched attacks. In response, some individuals including children, and the innocent were executed in cold blood.

He recalled, “The celebration happened, and we were joyful, thinking a new chapter was beginning. But that hope quickly faded. Every time something happened, people were killed… Just three or four days after independence, the Inyenzi attacked, and people were killed, accused of being collaborators. Children captured at the time were killed in Nyamagumba, Ruhengeri.”

Yet, for a brief moment on July 1, 1962, there was unity and national pride. Mugesera vividly described the Independence Day celebrations. The day began with a solemn Mass at Sainte Famille church, presided over by Monsignor Perraudin and attended by various priests and dignitaries. The main celebrations took place at a field that now houses the City of Kigali headquarters.

“At around 10:00 a.m.,” he said, “the Belgian representative stood up to speak. He was wearing a sharply cut diplomatic suit. After his brief speech, a trumpet sounded, and soldiers marched to the flagpole. The Belgian flag was lowered, and the Rwandan flag was raised.”

The new President, Grégoire Kayibanda, gave a speech filled with messages of peace, words Mugesera still remembers. “I don’t remember the entire speech, but I distinctly remember him speaking about peace. That word stayed with me, and I thought to myself, ‘we’re finally going to see peace,’ especially since we had just gone through some very troubling times.”

After the speech, students marched proudly with paper flags, and local leaders wore sashes in the colors of the new Rwandan flag. Each prefecture performed songs, dances, and traditional games that reflected their culture. “You felt like you were seeing all of Rwanda’s beauty in one place,” Mugesera recalled. “It was something we’d never witnessed before… It was beautiful.”

But that beauty, he emphasized, was tragically short-lived.

“The joy and hope of independence was short-lived,” Mugesera said. “I would compare it to a pregnant woman who expects a healthy baby, only to give birth to a child with a disability, or to miscarry entirely. What you had envisioned doesn’t come to pass.”

He continued, “Rwandans were wronged, many died. We were said to be independent, but far more people died after independence than before. Independence brought more harm than what existed prior. Instead of progressing, we began to regress. It was like a journey downhill, and it only got worse. Rather than development, everything deteriorated, until it culminated in the Genocide.”

According to Mugesera, the issue was not independence itself, nor the fall of the monarchy, after all, monarchies have ended in other countries without catastrophe. The problem lay in the kind of leadership that came to power. It institutionalized ethnic hatred and deepened divisions.

“Independence should have been a launchpad for progress, but instead, we fell backward because of bad governance,” he said.

For over three decades, Rwanda was governed by a regime that thrived on discrimination and hatred, leading eventually to the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. But Mugesera believes that Rwanda has now found its footing. Today, he sees hope again, this time, rooted in responsible and inclusive leadership.

“If we are fortunate, we will continue to have good leaders. Right now, we do. And if we’re lucky enough to keep having capable, responsible leaders, whether they are Twa, Hutu, or Tutsi—as long as they are healthy-minded individuals who care about Rwanda, we will move forward.”

He concluded with a vision that embraces unity over division: “We need leadership that sees all Rwandans. Anyone with sound political thinking will lead us well; but those driven by extremist ideologies will only take us backward.”

Rwanda’s independence was not the end of struggle—it was, in many ways, the beginning of a painful and defining chapter. But today, with the lessons of history in hand, the country continues its journey forward, striving to fulfill the promise that so many believed in on that day in July 1962.