{"id":56877,"date":"2026-01-17T19:25:45","date_gmt":"2026-01-17T19:25:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/jean-luc-habyarimana-and-the-genocidal-nostalgia\/"},"modified":"2026-01-17T19:24:33","modified_gmt":"2026-01-17T19:24:33","slug":"jean-luc-habyarimana-and-the-genocidal-nostalgia","status":"publish","type":"opinion","link":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/opinion\/jean-luc-habyarimana-and-the-genocidal-nostalgia\/","title":{"rendered":"Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana and the genocidal nostalgia"},"content":{"rendered":"

On 13 January 2026, one of Kinshasa\u2019s propaganda relays, On\u00e9sha Afrika, published a piece with the captivating title \u201cThe Legacy of Orchids: Exclusive Interview with Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana.\u201d For anyone who studies genocide ideology and denial, the article is not merely revealing; it is educational.<\/p>\n

One almost feels duty-bound to thank Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana\u2014not for his objectives, but for his candor. He says aloud what genocide ideologues usually express in code, whisper, or strategically ambiguous. He performs denial not as absence of memory, but as conviction.<\/p>\n

What follows is not outrage for its own sake. It is a dissection. Because genocidal discourse does not function through crude lies alone; it works through moral inversion, selective nostalgia, theological naturalization of racism, and the recycling of grievance as political entitlement. Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana\u2019s interview offers a textbook case.<\/p>\n

{{Ideology as Character, Exile as Alibi}}<\/p>\n

Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana declares: \u201cI am a man of convictions, slow to form them, but unwaveringly loyal once my mind is made up.\u201d<\/p>\n

At face value, this is meant to signal integrity. In reality, it is a confession. Not conviction as a virtue. Conviction, in genocidal ideology, is not the outcome of ethical reflection but the refusal of ethical revision. As Hannah Arendt observed in Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (1963), the danger lies not in fanaticism alone but in thoughtlessness\u2014the incapacity or refusal to interrogate one\u2019s own premises.<\/p>\n

Jean\u2011Luc is approaching his 50th birthday. Yet he boasts\u2014indirectly\u2014of beliefs formed early and never revised. At 18, he reportedly wished to shoot at the already assassinated Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana. That is not adolescent excess; it is ideological early socialization. Gregory Stanton\u2019s stages of genocide remind us that indoctrination precedes participation, and moral certainty often predates physical violence.<\/p>\n

Seen in this light, his later trajectory\u2014membership in Jambo Asbl, fellow feeling for or support of the FDLR, and relentless genocide denial\u2014is not surprising. Conviction here is not moral strength; it is ideological rigidity sanctified as character.<\/p>\n

What Jean\u2011Luc presents as moral steadfastness is, analytically speaking, a closed epistemic system. Scholars of extremist belief systems note that such actors invert doubt into vice and rigidity into virtue. Once \u201cconviction\u201d becomes an identity rather than a conclusion, evidence no longer functions as a corrective but as a danger.<\/p>\n

This explains why genocidal ideologues often narrate their biographies as stories of early awakening: the earlier the belief, the purer it appears. In this logic, growth is betrayal and change is treason. Jean\u2011Luc\u2019s self\u2011portrait therefore does ideological work: it immunizes him against accountability by recasting moral stagnation as ethical heroism.<\/p>\n

Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana claims: \u201cMy exile is not a choice. It is a condition for survival. I left Rwanda because my security and my rights as a citizen were no longer guaranteed\u2014 a reality that, far from improving, has hardened over time.\u201d This is one of the most revealing sentences in the interview, because it contains two discourses in one, layered to mislead.<\/p>\n

Historically, his family fled Rwanda on 9 April 1994, the very day the genocidaires\u2019 interim government\u2014headed by Th\u00e9odore Sindikubwabo\u2014was sworn in. If exile was indeed \u201ca condition for survival,\u201d the threat did not come from the Rwandan Patriotic Army as genocidaires and their supporters allege. It came from within the genocidal camp itself, amid factional struggles over responsibility for shooting down the presidential jet.<\/p>\n

Here denial operates through victim\u2011perpetrator reversal, a mechanism extensively analyzed by Stanley Cohen in States of Denial: Knowing about Atrocities and Suffering (2001). The family of power flees not because genocide is unfolding, but because proximity to its orchestration is dangerous. Exile rhetoric is a staple of post\u2011genocide denialism. It allows former elites to recast loss of impunity as persecution and judicial scrutiny as existential threat. In this narrative economy, survival is no longer biological but political: survival means surviving justice.<\/p>\n

Jean\u2011Luc\u2019s phrasing deliberately erases chronology, flattening April 1994 into a timeless danger allegedly emanating from today\u2019s Rwanda. Such temporal collapse is strategic. It dissolves cause and effect, replacing them with perpetual victimhood, a key emotional resource for genocidal nostalgia.<\/p>\n

When Jean-Luc Habyarimana says that \u201cthe reality has hardened,\u201d what he is really describing is not repression. He is lamenting accountability. Reality has indeed hardened\u2014toughened against denial, against nostalgia masquerading as grief, against the theatrical lamentations of those who confuse the loss of power with the loss of peace.<\/p>\n

His next sentence is therefore crucial, because it exposes the entire architecture of genocidal afterlife discourse in one breath: \u201cEvery day, Rwandans from all walks of life contact me\u2014contact us\u2014to express sympathy for our family, but above all their nostalgia for a time when human life had value, when peace was not a slogan but a lived reality.\u201d<\/p>\n

This is denial dressed as sentimentality, ideology softened into a child’s bedtime song. The phrase \u201cRwandans from all walks of life\u201d is not descriptive; it is incantatory or hypnotic. It functions the way \u201cthe people\u201d functions in populist authoritarian speech: a vague, unverifiable moral chorus summoned to replace evidence. No names, no social markers\u2014just an imagined national low sound of approval whispering into the ear of the heir.<\/p>\n

But let us be thoughtful. Among these daily callers, these carriers of nostalgia and sympathy, one can be certain of who is absent. There are no survivors of the Genocide Against the Tutsi dialing Jean-Luc Habyarimana to reminisce about the good old days. There are no widows of Nyamata, no orphans of Murambi, no families whose loved ones were hunted, raped, mutilated, and exterminated under the authority of the regime his family embodied and financed. The dead do not feel nostalgia for the boots and grenades that crushed them.<\/p>\n

The social world evoked here is not Rwanda; it is a closed echo chamber of perpetrators, accomplices, fugitives, and ideological cousins. Birds of the same feather indeed flock together\u2014especially when the nest itself is a crime scene. One need not speculate excitedly. Jean-Luc\u2019s sister was married to the son of F\u00e9licien Kabuga, the genocide\u2019s principal financier. His uncle Protais Zigiranyirazo is a known genocidaires.<\/p>\n

His aunt, Sister Godelive Barushywanubusa, fled Gacaca justice and remains a fugitive. These are not peripheral associations; they are genealogies of power, money, and blood. When Jean-Luc says \u201cour family,\u201d he is not invoking kinship in the sentimental sense; he is invoking a political clan whose collective trauma is not loss of life but loss of impunity.<\/p>\n

And what exactly is this \u201ctime when human life had value\u201d that inspires such longing? This is where the statement crosses from denial into weird farce. A regime that institutionalized ethnic quotas, orchestrated pogroms, normalized exile, criminalized Tutsi existence, and finally planned and executed the extermination of over a million people is retroactively crowned a golden age of peace. This is not the usual historical revisionism; it is moral necromancy.<\/p>\n

In his book: Politics and the English Language (1946)\u2014George Orwell warned against a political language designed \u201cto make lies sound truthful and murder respectable.\u201d Jean-Luc Habyarimana goes further: he makes murder sound nostalgic. Peace, in this lexicon, is not the absence of violence but the absence of resistance. Under the leadership of his father Juvenal Habyarimana, human life had value, apparently, as long as it was hierarchized, counted, and disposable. This is classic genocidal logic: life is sacred\u2014provided it belongs to the right category.<\/p>\n

The sadness and frustration he reports are simply the emotional residues of a defeated supremacist and genocidal project. These are the tears of people who woke up in a Rwanda where Tutsi are no longer hunted, where the state no longer belongs to one artificial \u2018racial\u2019 faction, where history resolutely refuses to forget. Their pain is not the pain of injustice endured, but the pain of injustice interrupted.<\/p>\n

This is why the statement matters so much. It is not anecdotal; it is diagnostic. Jean-Luc inadvertently provides a perfect ethnography of genocidal nostalgia. The callers are not mourning victims; they are mourning loss of relevance. They are grieving the collapse of a racial order that once guaranteed them moral innocence, political privilege, and metaphysical certainty.<\/p>\n

To call this \u201cpsychological numbing\u201d is generous. It is more accurately a pathology of entitlement, where the loss of domination is experienced as existential trauma. That Jean-Luc presents this pathology as national sentiment is not accidental. He no longer denies the crime outright. He mourns the inconvenience of its remembrance.<\/p>\n

And that, precisely, is why this passage is the most important in the entire interview. It is here that denial stops pretending to be confused and reveals itself as nostalgia with a body count carefully edited out.<\/p>\n

This is denial in its purest form\u2014not silence, but affective reconstruction. Nostalgia is not memory; it is ideology wrapped in sentiment. Svetlana Boym in The Future of Nostalgia (2001)\u2014distinguished between reflective nostalgia and restorative nostalgia, the latter seeking to rebuild a mythic past while erasing its violence. Jean\u2011Luc\u2019s nostalgia is restorative and racialized.<\/p>\n

Nostalgia here performs a dual function: it anesthetizes moral judgment while mobilizing grievance. By aestheticizing the past, Jean\u2011Luc invites readers to sympathize before they think. Scholars of propaganda note that emotional resonance often precedes ideological persuasion. Once the reader mourns a fictionalized past, they become receptive to its political restoration. This is why nostalgia is so central to genocidal afterlives: it converts perpetrators into miserable witnesses of a lost Eden, thereby laundering historical responsibility through sentimentality.<\/p>\n

{{Ideological Fa\u00e7ade}}<\/p>\n

Jean-Luc Habyarimana insists that his \u201cengagement\u201d with Rwanda is not ideological but moral. This is a familiar maneuver. Ideology, after all, the one he holds dear, has a bad reputation\u2014especially when it has already led to mass graves. So it must be laundered, rebranded as duty, preferably parental.<\/p>\n

Thus he declares, with solemn gravity: \u201cAs a father, I refuse to pass on to our children a legacy of normalized injustice, confiscated memory, and exported regional conflicts.\u201d<\/p>\n

The irony here is not subtle. Everything Jean-Luc claims to reject is precisely what he reproduces, transmits, and embalms. Confiscated memory? He denies the specificity of the Genocide Against the Tutsi. Normalized injustice? He yearns for a racial state. Exported conflict? He supports forces like the FDLR, whose very existence destabilizes the Great Lakes region.<\/p>\n

The legacy his children are most likely to inherit is not justice but carefully curated ignorance. They will grow up fluent in hate speech, allergic to facts, and profoundly shielded from the reality that their paternal grandparents were not tragic patriots but Interahamwe. They will never be told that their father\u2019s childhood home was not a family residence but a genocidal command post\u2014a site from which death orders radiated before French forces exfiltrated the family to safety. Memory is indeed confiscated in this household\u2014not by the Rwandan state, but by denial.<\/p>\n

Genocidal discourse often cloaks itself in the language of parenthood and futurity. As scholars of discourse note, invoking children is a way of moral laundering: hatred is reframed as protection. The parental pose is among the most cynical tropes in extremist rhetoric. By invoking children, Jean\u2011Luc disarms criticism in advance: who would oppose a father acting \u201cfor the future\u201d?<\/p>\n

Jean-Luc\u2019s parental rhetoric is therefore not about protecting children; it is about protecting lineage. The future he imagines is one in which history is rewritten to preserve familial innocence. This is denial\u2019s most familiar form: not public propaganda, but domestic pedagogy. The genocide is distorted, diluted, externalized, until it becomes an unfortunate misunderstanding that happened around the family\u2014never because of it.<\/p>\n

When he claims that compatriots constantly ask him to \u201cintervene,\u201d to \u201cdraw the world\u2019s attention,\u201d we are firmly back in the register of classic Hutu-Power messianism. \u201cThis permanent connection with my people anchors me in reality,\u201d he says. This is a classic imagined constituency, a technique used by demagogues to substitute anecdotes for legitimacy. \u201cMy people\u201d here is not the nation; it is the ethnicized political subject of Hutu-Power ideology.<\/p>\n

Reality, here, is defined as a closed circuit of ethnic affirmation. \u201cMy people\u201d does not mean citizens; it means the imagined moral community of the aggrieved Hutu\u2014eternally wronged, perpetually disregarded, forever entitled to rule. In his seminal work Imagined Communities (1983)\u2014Benedict Anderson warned that nations are imagined communities. However, genocidal movements imagine something far narrower\u2014a racial community sanctified by grievance.<\/p>\n

What is striking is not the claim of popular support but its vagueness. No numbers, no institutions, no verifiable mechanisms\u2014only voices, whispers, and constant contact. This ambiguity is deliberate. It allows the speaker to occupy the symbolic center of a community that cannot be empirically challenged. In genocidal discourse, legitimacy flows not from consent but from presumed ethnic authenticity. Jean\u2011Luc positions himself as vessel rather than agent, thereby evading responsibility while claiming authority.<\/p>\n

This is not engagement; it is political ventriloquism. Anonymous voices speak, and Jean-Luc interprets. Emotional bonds are transmuted into \u201cmoral responsibility,\u201d which conveniently resembles inherited authority. One hears the unmistakable echo of his father\u2019s reign: the leader as translator of ethnic suffering, the nation reduced to a single grievance narrative, dissent dismissed as foreign manipulation. The difference is cosmetic. The grammar is identical.<\/p>\n

His accusation that Rwanda today \u201crests on a tragic instrumentalization of the genocide,\u201d producing what he calls \u201cmemorial apartheid,\u201d is not intellectual critique but ideological counter-memory. This concept is carefully designed to wipe out asymmetry. As genocide scholar Deborah E. Lipstadt, author of Denying the Holocaust (1993)\u2014has long argued, denial today rarely denies death; it denies meaning, intent, and responsibility. Jean\u2011Luc does exactly that.<\/p>\n

Perpetrators and victims are folded into the same moral category, history flattened into competing sorrows. This is not reconciliation but moral laundering. The genocide becomes a rhetorical resource rather than a crime with architects, financiers, and executioners.<\/p>\n

The use of emancipatory vocabulary \u201capartheid\u201d is above all contemptuous. It seeks to appropriate the moral capital of anti\u2011racist struggle in order to undermine genocide remembrance. This transposition depends on erasing power relations: those who organized violence recast themselves as marginalized mourners. Such discourse is persuasive only if historical asymmetry is obscured\u2014precisely the outcome denial seeks to achieve.<\/p>\n

When Jean-Luc insists that a \u201cpart of the population\u201d is deprived of the right to mourn its dead \u201cmassacred in the 1990s,\u201d he performs the central trick of contemporary denial: transforming those killed during war, judicial pursuit, or the collapse of a genocidal regime into equivalent victims of extermination. Here, intent disappears. Planning evaporates. Responsibility dissolves. What remains is grievance without guilt.<\/p>\n

His account of the RPF\u2019s October 1, 1990 invasion is straight from the Hutu-Power catechism. No refugees. No decades of exile. No institutionalized discrimination. Just a peaceful Rwanda cruelly disrupted by power-hungry invaders. History is amputated at the moment it becomes inconvenient.<\/p>\n

Every clause has been answered by decades of scholarship, ICTR records, and archival evidence. Yet denial persists because, as Zygmunt Bauman observed in Modernity and the Holocaust (1989), modern evil is bureaucratic and repetitive. It thrives on rehearsal.<\/p>\n

Repetition is not redundancy; it is strategy. Each reiteration normalizes the lie, especially when presented in polished, interview\u2011friendly language. The aim is not to convince experts but to exhaust public attention, creating the illusion of controversy where there is scholarly consensus. This is denial as noise production.<\/p>\n

Finally, we arrive at the savior fantasy: \u201cThe day will come when exiles return\u2026 to Rwanda on just, humane, and sustainable foundations.\u201d The language is almost humanitarian. One half expects a donor conference to follow. Yet beneath the velvet lies the old steel: return, re-foundation, moral cleansing. Jean-Luc does not imagine himself as a citizen returning home, but as a redeemer arriving to correct history.<\/p>\n

This is not a moral duty. It is eschatological politics, where the heir of a genocidal order recasts himself as its ethical alternative. The tragedy is that denial, when polished and paternal, still finds microphones.<\/p>\n

Jean-Luc Habyarimana\u2019s dream of Rwanda crowned with \u201ca republican army\u201d that \u201cprotects the people\u201d deserves to be read not as political vision but as linguistic archeology. Every word is borrowed, hollowed out, and repurposed to disguise a racial project. In the lexicon of Hutu Power, \u201crepublican\u201d never meant civic neutrality, constitutional loyalty, or the protection of citizens as equals. It meant something far more lethal: an army of the majority, for the majority, against the designated enemy within. When Jean-Luc says \u201cthe people,\u201d he is not speaking of Rwandans; he is speaking of Hutu\u2014those counted, recognized, and protected under the old racial accounting system.<\/p>\n

History does not leave room for ambiguity here. The army his father presided over was already \u201crepublican\u201d in this sense: ethnically filtered, ideologically disciplined, and operationally integrated with militias. The Interahamwe did not emerge in opposition to the army; they functioned as its back up limb. To invoke a \u201crepublican army\u201d today is therefore not reformist nostalgia\u2014it is a regression, a yearning for a time when uniforms and machetes spoke the same language.<\/p>\n

{{Obscenity}}<\/p>\n

Unable to defend this vision on political grounds, Jean-Luc Habyarimana does what genocidal ideologues have always done: he summons God. \u201cOne cannot undo what God has established. Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa constitute Rwanda\u2019s identity.\u201d<\/p>\n

This is not theology; it is racial fatalism baptized in scripture. The paraphrased biblical echo\u2014 \u201cWhat God has joined together, let no one separate\u201d (Matthew 19:6, Mark 10:9)\u2014is disturbingly misapplied. A verse about marriage is conscripted to sanctify colonial racial taxonomy, as though Belgian ethnographers were apostles and identity cards were sacraments.<\/p>\n

This is not merely blasphemous; it is obscene. Here racism is naturalized and sanctified. God becomes the guarantor of ethnic hierarchy. This is what genocide scholars call cosmic legitimation. It reduces God to an ethnic registrar and turns genocide into the defense of divine order.<\/p>\n

Theological language is particularly potent because it forecloses debate. If God has decreed hierarchy, disagreement becomes heresy. In this theology, equality is sacrilege, national unity is rebellion against God, and citizenship is an affront to creation. This move relocates politics into the sacred realm, immunizing it from ethical scrutiny.<\/p>\n

Historically, such sacralization of identity has accompanied some of the worst mass crimes, precisely because it converts human prejudice into divine necessity. Once difference is declared sacred, hierarchy inevitably follows. This is why Jean-Luc warns that abolishing ethnic categories \u201chas never created equality; it has merely shifted lines of domination.\u201d Meaning: the wrong people are no longer on top.<\/p>\n

What he laments here is not injustice but the loss of an efficient system of exclusion, discrimination, persecution and extermination. The past he romanticizes is one where domination was clear, legible, and bureaucratically enforced\u2014where identity cards did the moral work of deciding who lived and who died. His nostalgia is consequently not abstract; it is administrative. It longs for the return of a state capable of sorting bodies with precision.<\/p>\n

His admiration for Burundi follows the same logic. He praises the \u201chonesty\u201d of recognizing components of society, presenting ethnic arithmetic as realism and unity as denial. But what he calls honesty is simply the institutionalization of suspicion. Burundi\u2019s tragic cycles of violence are not the result of insufficient ethnic recognition but of its over-politicization. Jean-Luc\u2019s model of peace is one in which citizens are first counted, then governed\u2014never trusted.<\/p>\n

For him, national unity is anathema because unity dissolves inherited entitlement. Unity says you are no longer guaranteed power by birth. Unity demands accountability. Unity threatens dynasties built on grievance. Differences, by contrast, are \u201cnoble\u201d because they are beneficial. They can be mobilized, ranked, weaponized.<\/p>\n

The final irony is almost awful. In the staged interview, Jean-Luc claims that his father was ready to embrace the Arusha Peace Agreement. Yet it is the Arusha Accords which decreed the abolition of ethnic identity cards\u2014those very instruments that extremists of Hutu Power despised precisely because they obstructed extermination. Identity cards were not symbolic; they were logistical tools of genocide. To hate their abolition is to mourn the loss of an efficient killing infrastructure.<\/p>\n

Jean-Luc cannot have it both ways. One cannot praise Arusha while resenting its most humanizing provision. One cannot invoke God while defending colonial racial hierarchies. One cannot dream of a \u201crepublican army\u201d while yearning for an ethnically purified force.<\/p>\n

{{The Stench Beneath the Orchids}}<\/p>\n

Why orchids? Because denial today is aesthetic. It seeks beauty, refinement, poetic melancholy. But beneath the orchids you find the same ideology that justified mass murder.<\/p>\n

Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana did not misspeak nor exaggerate. He revealed. His interview is not a deviation; it is a continuity\u2014of family, ideology, and political ambition. Jean-Luc Habyarimana is not inventing a new Rwanda; he is attempting to resurrect an old one\u2014washed in scripture, perfumed with nostalgia, and presented as moral renewal. But history remembers what he wishes to reestablish. And Rwanda, having survived it, has chosen never to go back. Irreversibly.<\/p>\n

The tragedy is not that Jean\u2011Luc fails to see this. The tragedy is that platforms still pretend his discourse is legitimate debate rather than what it truly is: the polished afterlife of genocidal thought.<\/p>\n

Let us be mercilessly clear. Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana is not a misunderstood exile, a nostalgic intellectual, or a persecuted conscience. He is the heir to a political tradition soaked in blood, now embalmed in metaphor. His orchids are not symbols of peace; they are funeral decorations placed over an unrepentant grave. He speaks of human values with the serenity of someone who has never had to account for whose humanity counted and whose was declared surplus.<\/p>\n

There is something almost bitter sweet in watching a man invoke God, children, peace, and morality to defend a worldview that collapsed under the weight of its own crimes. His rhetoric resembles a museum of old-fashioned lies: carefully lit, carefully curated, and utterly detached from reality. Rwanda moved on. Survivors rebuilt. Perpetrators were judged. History advanced. Jean\u2011Luc remained behind, polishing old slogans like heirlooms, convinced that repetition might resurrect relevance.<\/p>\n

What makes this spectacle obscene is not merely denial, but entitlement\u2014the assumption that the world must once again indulge genocidal nostalgia as \u201canother perspective.\u201d No. There are perspectives, and there are post\u2011mortems of ideology. This interview belongs to the latter. And no amount of orchids, however exotic, can perfume the unmistakable stench of denial forever.<\/p>\n

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

On 13 January 2026, one of Kinshasa\u2019s propaganda relays, On\u00e9sha Afrika, published a piece with the captivating title \u201cThe Legacy of Orchids: Exclusive Interview with Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana.\u201d For anyone who studies genocide ideology and denial, the article is not merely revealing; it is educational. One almost feels duty-bound to thank Jean\u2011Luc Habyarimana\u2014not for his objectives, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":62,"featured_media":2000100763,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20],"tags":[75],"byline":[271],"hashtag":[],"class_list":["post-56877","opinion","type-opinion","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-opinions","tag-homenews","byline-tom-ndahiro"],"bylines":[{"id":271,"name":"Tom Ndahiro","slug":"tom-ndahiro","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":271,"name":"Tom Ndahiro","slug":"tom-ndahiro","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":2000100763,"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/jean_luc_yagiye_i_kinshasa_muri_kamena_2024_ahura_n_abayobozi_bak.jpg","alt":"","caption":"","mime_type":"image\/jpeg","width":0,"height":0,"sizes":{"thumbnail":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/jean_luc_yagiye_i_kinshasa_muri_kamena_2024_ahura_n_abayobozi_bak.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"medium":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/jean_luc_yagiye_i_kinshasa_muri_kamena_2024_ahura_n_abayobozi_bak.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"medium_large":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/jean_luc_yagiye_i_kinshasa_muri_kamena_2024_ahura_n_abayobozi_bak.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"large":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/jean_luc_yagiye_i_kinshasa_muri_kamena_2024_ahura_n_abayobozi_bak.jpg","width":1,"height":1},"full":{"url":"https:\/\/en-images.igihe.com\/IMG\/logo\/jean_luc_yagiye_i_kinshasa_muri_kamena_2024_ahura_n_abayobozi_bak.jpg","width":0,"height":0}}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/opinion\/56877","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\/62"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=56877"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/opinion\/56877\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2000100763"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=56877"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=56877"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=56877"},{"taxonomy":"byline","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/byline?post=56877"},{"taxonomy":"hashtag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/new.igihe.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/hashtag?post=56877"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}