{"id":53889,"date":"2025-04-15T18:06:40","date_gmt":"2025-04-15T18:06:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/the-purpose-of-remembrance-a-personal-reflection-on-kwibuka\/"},"modified":"2025-04-15T18:06:34","modified_gmt":"2025-04-15T18:06:34","slug":"the-purpose-of-remembrance-a-personal-reflection-on-kwibuka","status":"publish","type":"opinion","link":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/opinion\/the-purpose-of-remembrance-a-personal-reflection-on-kwibuka\/","title":{"rendered":"The purpose of remembrance: A personal reflection on Kwibuka"},"content":{"rendered":"

The day began like any other, and the program followed the familiar structure of Kwibuka events: a time to remember our loved ones. When we arrived at the memorial, we followed the Path of Remembrance, tracing Rwanda’s history\u2014from the peaceful era before colonialism, to the introduction and spread of hatred against the Tutsi, to the massacres that occurred over the years leading to the horror of 1994. We saw how the divisive colonial ideology was planted into Rwandan hearts, and how it culminated in the tragedy that befell our people.<\/p>\n

One aspect of the remembrance path that feels heartwarming, if such a thing can exist in these difficult times, was the video shown at the start. It told the story of two genocide survivors who fell in love through shared grief, married in their pain, and built a new life together. At the end of the path, they appeared again on screen, telling how they healed each other, raised children, and found joy again. That story gave us hope. It gave meaning to the quote, \u201cThey tried to bury us, they didn\u2019t know we were seeds.\u201d<\/p>\n

We visited the mass graves and observed a minute of silence to honour everyone who was murdered simply for being Tutsi\u2014especially those laid to rest there. It was a deeply emotional and heartbreaking moment.<\/p>\n

Afterwards, we gathered to hear a survivor\u2019s testimony and reflect on the lessons from this year\u2019s Kwibuka. Fidele, the survivor, spoke in vivid detail. He described how he and his entire family were hunted like animals across valleys and hills. He recounted meeting other families also on the run\u2014sleeping outdoors in the heavy rains, hiding, clinging to hope. Some Rwandans, not targeted themselves, risked their lives to shelter or feed them, though often only temporarily, before fear drove them away again. Fidele watched loved ones being murdered in front of him. Eventually, when all hope seemed lost, he and a few family members were saved by the RPF Inkotanyi.<\/p>\n

Throughout the program, I was strong. I kept myself together. But I was beyond sad. I couldn\u2019t stop wondering how such things could ever happen. I was carrying the pain\u2014not only Fidele\u2019s, but that of all survivors who had endured the unimaginable. Still, I didn\u2019t let my emotions break through. Not yet.<\/p>\n

Then, the head of our institution spoke. He reminded us why we remember: to ensure that such horrors are never repeated. He encouraged us to be kind to one another, to work together in mutual respect\u2014as human beings.<\/p>\n

The guest speaker, Dr. Antoine Rutayisire, spoke to us about Agaciro ko Kwibuka\u2014the purpose of remembrance. I whispered to my friend beside me how inspiring Dr. Antoine always is. This time, he spoke about the peaceful Rwandan society that existed before colonialism, before the Germans and later the Belgians arrived. He explained how Rwandans once prioritised Ubunyarwanda (Rwandanness), Ubwami (the Kingdom), Meritocracy, and Itorero\u2014a concept close to civic education but rooted deeply in patriotism, unity, and community engagement.<\/p>\n

He elaborated on how colonisation disrupted our social fabric. The Belgians, upon finding an organised society with a king who ruled all Rwandans without discrimination, chose to sow division and hatred. With examples from his own life, Dr. Rutayisire traced how that propaganda led to the killings of Tutsi in 1959, 1963, 1973, and ultimately to the 1994 Genocide.<\/p>\n

As he described the persecutions of 1973, including how he and other Tutsi students were hunted down, I couldn\u2019t help but think of my late father, Munyankindi, who fled to Burundi during that time. He too suffered\u2014reduced from a university professor to a high school teacher\u2014until he was finally saved by the RPF in 1994.<\/p>\n

Then came a break, during which Nyiranyamibwa Suzanne was invited to sing. That\u2019s when I lost it. Her voice made me cry instantly. I\u2019ve always been moved by her song \u201cEse Mbaze Nde?\u201d (\u201cWhom Shall I Ask?\u201d), but this time, after spending over four hours immersed in the pain and memory of the genocide, it hit differently.<\/p>\n

Maybe it was because every time I hear that song, I\u2019m brought back to August 1994, when we returned home from exile in Burundi. I remember the journey through Kirundo into Bugesera, where we saw unspeakable things. I remember adults stopping the car to gently move bodies from the road so we could pass. I remember resting in Nyamata, entering Ntarama Catholic Church and nearby houses looking for survivors\u2026 and running out after seeing what no 13-year-old should ever see. My five younger siblings were even smaller. Our young hearts shattered that day.<\/p>\n

We had been told about the beauty of the \u201cLand of a Thousand Hills,\u201d a place of milk and honey. But what we saw\u2026 we were not prepared. We arrived in Kigali and stayed with one of our father\u2019s friends in Remera. We were relieved to be surrounded by the Inkotanyi. We felt safe again. But that safety came too late\u2014we had already lost our innocence. We had witnessed the aftermath of one of history\u2019s worst genocides.<\/p>\n

When Nyiranyamibwa sings that line, \u201cMpingutse i Rwanda, nyoberwa aho ndi\u2026\u201d (\u201cI arrived in Rwanda, and didn\u2019t know where I was\u201d), it breaks me. She sings of roads overgrown with grass, of deserted hills where children used to play, now overtaken by crows. Of churches filled with bodies. Of mothers and fathers, children and babies, all slaughtered. Of machetes used when bullets were too expensive. Of unanswered prayers and swallowed tears.<\/p>\n

Each time I hear her sing, I remember. I think of the scenes from Kirundo to Kigali. I think of the unanswered questions. I think of my little brother, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles I never got to know, the cousins I will never meet. Most were killed in Kibuye\u2014in churches, stadiums, or their homes. Few survived. Only two aunts from Kigali, and one cousin who survived the Kibuye massacres as a child.<\/p>\n

This question \u201cWhom shall I ask?\u201d haunts us. It lingers in my mother\u2019s heart. It lingers in all of ours. If we ever want to know what our loved ones were like, what they loved, what they dreamed of, what made them laugh\u2014we can\u2019t ask. Even the few old photographs that survived don\u2019t fill the void.<\/p>\n

Every year during Kwibuka, I remember them all\u2014even those I never knew existed. My family and I grieve. Our friends grieve. We cry for them. We live for them.<\/p>\n

We also remember the pain of survivors. Those who watched it all, lived it all, and somehow survived. Their trauma cannot be measured. We must grieve with them, honour them, and pray that their lives thrive in spite of the pain.<\/p>\n

As Dr. Rutayisire said, the purpose of Kwibuka is not to live in the past. It is to give thanks for the blessings we now enjoy. To thank the RPF Inkotanyi, and our leader, Paul Kagame, for rescuing survivors and giving us back our dignity. But most of all, we remember to restore the respect that was stolen from our loved ones. We remember to lay them to rest, and to give back their humanity.<\/p>\n

We remember so that when our children ask us why we love our country so deeply, why we cherish our President beyond politics, as one would love a parent, why we revere our Inkotanyi family, why we carry such fierce patriotism and unity despite the divisions our forefathers suffered, we can answer proudly. We remember so that such distortion, hatred, and horror will never ever happen again in our country.<\/p>\n

\"Francine<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

On Thursday, April 10, 2025, my work colleagues and I were invited by the head of our institution to attend a commemoration event at the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Gisozi, to pay our respects to the victims of the Genocide against the Tutsi.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":131,"featured_media":2000085774,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20],"tags":[75],"byline":[3198],"hashtag":[],"class_list":["post-53889","opinion","type-opinion","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-opinions","tag-homenews","byline-francine-umutesi"],"bylines":[{"id":3198,"name":"Francine Umutesi","slug":"francine-umutesi","description":"","image":{"id":0,"url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/?s=96&d=mm&f=y&r=g","alt":"Default avatar","title":"Default avatar","caption":"","mime_type":"image\/jpeg","sizes":[]},"user_id":null}],"contributors":[{"id":3198,"name":"Francine Umutesi","slug":"francine-umutesi","description":"","image":{"id":0,"url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/?s=96&d=mm&f=y&r=g","alt":"Default avatar","title":"Default avatar","caption":"","mime_type":"image\/jpeg","sizes":[]},"user_id":null}],"featured_image":{"id":2000085774,"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/mixcollage-15-apr-2025-04-53-pm-5803.jpg","alt":"","caption":"","mime_type":"image\/jpeg","width":0,"height":0,"sizes":{"thumbnail":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/mixcollage-15-apr-2025-04-53-pm-5803.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"medium":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/mixcollage-15-apr-2025-04-53-pm-5803.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"medium_large":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/mixcollage-15-apr-2025-04-53-pm-5803.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"large":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/mixcollage-15-apr-2025-04-53-pm-5803.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"full":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/mixcollage-15-apr-2025-04-53-pm-5803.jpg","width":0,"height":0}}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/opinion\/53889","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/opinion"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/opinion"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/131"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=53889"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/opinion\/53889\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2000085774"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=53889"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=53889"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=53889"},{"taxonomy":"byline","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/byline?post=53889"},{"taxonomy":"hashtag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/hashtag?post=53889"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}