Memories of Rwanda
Will they find us? Holding onto my sister and brother, we listened quietly to the screaming of my parents and older siblings getting beaten to death. We tried to stay as silent as we could as we hid. Was this really happening? Why do they have such extreme hatred enough to kill us in such horrible ways? What did we do to create such animosity? All these questions were racing through my mind as I tried to stay in control.
It was March 30th of 1994 when I was working out on my parent’s farm in central Rwanda. We had just finished harvesting our crops. Things had been peaceful, even though there had been violence for the past two decades. There were two tribes, the Tutsi and the Hutu, and we had been living in harmony for the past two years. I was part of the Tutsi tribe, and I lived next to my friends and family. I had seven siblings including, two older brothers, two older sisters and a younger sister and brother. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were all neighbors. I even had Hutu neighbors. We were all very close and shared our animals, harvest and took care of one another in times of need.
The Hutu tribe and Tutsi tribes were similar, but we had different appearances. The Hutu people were shorter, stockier, darker, flat-nosed, and thick lipped, and square jawed. We were taller, more slender, paler-skinned, and thin lipped, and narrow chinned.
Although we have had our differences in the past, today all is well between us. I had been spending time with my friends and family and helping my mother care for the animals, working in the farm, and gathering food. We normally ate beans, bananas, sweet potatoes, and sarghum. My favorite was the sweet potatoes. On special occasions we would save money to have beef, goat, or chicken. When everything seemed great it all started to change.
It was a normal day on April 6th, 1994, and I was at my Hutu neighbor’s house, when all of a sudden we heard news on the radio that Rwanda’s President Habyarimana and the President of Burundi were returning from a meeting in Tanzania on a plane when it was shot down! This occurred outside the capital of Rwanda near Kigali. As a result they were both killed. I looked at my friend; we didn’t really know what to think of it at first. Then when we were walking to my house, we noticed excitement in the streets.
No one knew who was responsible for shooting the plane down, but as a result of the incident, the Hutus suddenly started to show extreme hatred toward the Tutsi tribe. We were hearing about people driving by shouting, “eliminate the cockroaches!” referring to the Tutsis. That night, my father called us for a family meeting. He informed us that violence was starting to occur throughout the country. They Hutu were attacking Tutsi people, burning down their homes and inflicting harm. He gave us strict instructions about when and where we should go and whom we should be with. We were no longer to take our younger siblings outside for long periods of time and we tried to make no contact with the any Hutu’s while the commotion was going on.
The next day I was walking on the street to the cabin where I go to school and I could hear a woman scream in front of me. I hid in the bush and tried to see what was going on. There was a man getting beat by soldiers. His wife was being held down, screaming for them to stop. It was so frightening, yet there was nothing anyone could do. There had to be at least six soldiers with guns and weapons in their hands. I looked around and noticed a soldier looking directly at me. I quickly turned around and tried not to attract attention to myself. I ran to my house, and by the time I got home, I could hear the news on the radio. I walked into the kitchen, and my family was sitting around the table listening. My Dad looked at me, he said,” what’s wrong?” I was out of breath and was shocked at what I had just seen. “Why aren’t you at school?” asked my Dad. I told my family about what I had just seen, and he immediately looked out the window to see if anyone had followed me home. My parents thought I made a smart move, and were thankful I was okay. I sat down and started listening to the radio. I couldn’t believe what they were saying; “It is time to clear the Tutsi’s of Rwanda. We must cut all the tall trees, cut the tall trees now! Let none of them escape.”
The Hutu extremist organized Hutu civilians to set up roadblocks, and distribute weapons. Everything was getting intense. Any Hutu government officials that tried to stop the killings were intimidated, bypassed, replaced, or killed. I was faced with a huge dilemma, either fight with the family and protect the farm and animals or go hide. My brother told me to take my younger siblings and go into hiding. I took my younger siblings, gathered food and water and went to our tornado shelter beneath our barn.
We had waited for hours in the shelter, when suddenly I could hear screaming. It was the most horrible, heart wrenching screaming one could ever imagine. There was pleading and begging and running and hollering. Kids and adults were getting their legs and arms cut off, women getting their breasts cut off, and children getting thrown into wells. I could hear the scream of my poor mother and sisters getting raped and beaten, and the wale of my brother fighting for his life. There was banging, gun shots, and then silence. My heart started to race, I could hear footsteps of men above us in the barn. Holding back tears I tried to comfort my little sister and brother, but I thought we were going to die. Then I could hear them leave. I was afraid to move for a very long time. I finally started to cry. All I could do was wait and hope that soon, my older siblings or parents would come down and reassure us that everything was okay. My little sister kept asking me, “ Where is Mom? Is she okay?” I would comfort her and say, “I’m sure everything will be alright,” but deep down I knew they were all dead.
After about a month in hiding, only leaving my shelter for short periods to get more food and water, I decided I had to leave at some point. My siblings and I pretended like we were part of the Hutu tribe to stay alive. I found some old friends who were willing to save us from the genocide. They took care of us by giving us a place to stay while feeding and protecting us. We were lucky to have caring friends that would risk their livelihood to take us in.While we were so thankful to have these Hutu friends that would protect us, it was difficult to maintain the façade that we were of the Hutu tribe when we had such sorrow for the people we had lost. Every day was such a struggle. One day we were living side by side, sharing food and crops, and the next day we were hated for no apparent reason. It made me sick when I heard people laughing at how many people had died, or how many people they had killed. There were streets filled with dead bodies that seemed like they went on for miles. Looking at all the burned houses would make me want to cry and always remind me of my family. I knew I had to be strong for my little siblings; I tried not to cry around them. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep at night. Living with such fear that someone might figure out we were part of the Tutsi people, and kill us at any time. I felt completely alone. There were barely any Tutsi survivors, in fact the Hutus thought they killed them all. All in all, 11 percent of Rwanda’s total population was killed during the genocide, and an estimated 800,000 Tutsi’s were killed.
Now its 2011, I still live in Rwanda, and am married to my husband Sentwall and we have three children. After the genocide took place, there was much rebuilding. This was due in part to the peace created by the Tutsi-led rebel army termed the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF). They declared a complete victory in July of 1994. They helped create a new government, stressed national unity and urged us to consider ourselves Rwandans, rather than from a specific tribe. Since then, more than half of primary schools have re-opened, so my kids are able to get an education. Today they will learn about the horrible acts and things that happened in my childhood. I still look back on the days when almost all of my Tutsi people were killed, and all of the horrible memories of the genocide.
There were several reasons why the genocide occurred. There was extreme over population, which caused fierce competition for economic resources and food production. The high population density caused stress to their society. Even though they had many farmers, the population grew too fast and their agricultural production was inefficient. They had to depend on tools like the handheld hoes, picks, and machetes that was manual labor and resulted in slow production. Although they showed the five key traits of a complex civilization, they were unable to provide the basic essentials of food, clean water, shelter, and sanitation. With high population, a shortage of food, and ethnic diversity it resulted in the tragic outcome of genocide.
In addition, this genocide resulted from pre-exisiting ethnic hatred spurred by greedy politicians seeking to control their own destiny. The rulers (Hutus) stimulated ancient tribal hatred and brought it to a modern form. They believed that by eliminating an entire ethnic race (Tutsi), they would restore the support for their political party and help them prevail. Although many people agree that there is strong support for this theory, there lack of food supply and a growing population clearly had an influence in the genocide that took place.
In reflecting back, I can safely say that it was not only due to ethnic hatred. As difficult as it is to understand such hatred of a race, it happened in a climate of lack of food, lack of resources and agriculture, and extreme overpopulation that made daily survival extremely difficult. The combination resulted in entire races thinking that the only solution would be to kill off another race in order to ultimately survive. It became the answer to all problems, but clearly, it was only the beginning of a massive historical tragedy that will never be forgotten.
It was March 30th of 1994 when I was working out on my parent’s farm in central Rwanda. We had just finished harvesting our crops. Things had been peaceful, even though there had been violence for the past two decades. There were two tribes, the Tutsi and the Hutu, and we had been living in harmony for the past two years. I was part of the Tutsi tribe, and I lived next to my friends and family. I had seven siblings including, two older brothers, two older sisters and a younger sister and brother. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were all neighbors. I even had Hutu neighbors. We were all very close and shared our animals, harvest and took care of one another in times of need.
The Hutu tribe and Tutsi tribes were similar, but we had different appearances. The Hutu people were shorter, stockier, darker, flat-nosed, and thick lipped, and square jawed. We were taller, more slender, paler-skinned, and thin lipped, and narrow chinned.
Although we have had our differences in the past, today all is well between us. I had been spending time with my friends and family and helping my mother care for the animals, working in the farm, and gathering food. We normally ate beans, bananas, sweet potatoes, and sarghum. My favorite was the sweet potatoes. On special occasions we would save money to have beef, goat, or chicken. When everything seemed great it all started to change.
It was a normal day on April 6th, 1994, and I was at my Hutu neighbor’s house, when all of a sudden we heard news on the radio that Rwanda’s President Habyarimana and the President of Burundi were returning from a meeting in Tanzania on a plane when it was shot down! This occurred outside the capital of Rwanda near Kigali. As a result they were both killed. I looked at my friend; we didn’t really know what to think of it at first. Then when we were walking to my house, we noticed excitement in the streets.
No one knew who was responsible for shooting the plane down, but as a result of the incident, the Hutus suddenly started to show extreme hatred toward the Tutsi tribe. We were hearing about people driving by shouting, “eliminate the cockroaches!” referring to the Tutsis. That night, my father called us for a family meeting. He informed us that violence was starting to occur throughout the country. They Hutu were attacking Tutsi people, burning down their homes and inflicting harm. He gave us strict instructions about when and where we should go and whom we should be with. We were no longer to take our younger siblings outside for long periods of time and we tried to make no contact with the any Hutu’s while the commotion was going on.
The next day I was walking on the street to the cabin where I go to school and I could hear a woman scream in front of me. I hid in the bush and tried to see what was going on. There was a man getting beat by soldiers. His wife was being held down, screaming for them to stop. It was so frightening, yet there was nothing anyone could do. There had to be at least six soldiers with guns and weapons in their hands. I looked around and noticed a soldier looking directly at me. I quickly turned around and tried not to attract attention to myself. I ran to my house, and by the time I got home, I could hear the news on the radio. I walked into the kitchen, and my family was sitting around the table listening. My Dad looked at me, he said,” what’s wrong?” I was out of breath and was shocked at what I had just seen. “Why aren’t you at school?” asked my Dad. I told my family about what I had just seen, and he immediately looked out the window to see if anyone had followed me home. My parents thought I made a smart move, and were thankful I was okay. I sat down and started listening to the radio. I couldn’t believe what they were saying; “It is time to clear the Tutsi’s of Rwanda. We must cut all the tall trees, cut the tall trees now! Let none of them escape.”
The Hutu extremist organized Hutu civilians to set up roadblocks, and distribute weapons. Everything was getting intense. Any Hutu government officials that tried to stop the killings were intimidated, bypassed, replaced, or killed. I was faced with a huge dilemma, either fight with the family and protect the farm and animals or go hide. My brother told me to take my younger siblings and go into hiding. I took my younger siblings, gathered food and water and went to our tornado shelter beneath our barn.
We had waited for hours in the shelter, when suddenly I could hear screaming. It was the most horrible, heart wrenching screaming one could ever imagine. There was pleading and begging and running and hollering. Kids and adults were getting their legs and arms cut off, women getting their breasts cut off, and children getting thrown into wells. I could hear the scream of my poor mother and sisters getting raped and beaten, and the wale of my brother fighting for his life. There was banging, gun shots, and then silence. My heart started to race, I could hear footsteps of men above us in the barn. Holding back tears I tried to comfort my little sister and brother, but I thought we were going to die. Then I could hear them leave. I was afraid to move for a very long time. I finally started to cry. All I could do was wait and hope that soon, my older siblings or parents would come down and reassure us that everything was okay. My little sister kept asking me, “ Where is Mom? Is she okay?” I would comfort her and say, “I’m sure everything will be alright,” but deep down I knew they were all dead.
After about a month in hiding, only leaving my shelter for short periods to get more food and water, I decided I had to leave at some point. My siblings and I pretended like we were part of the Hutu tribe to stay alive. I found some old friends who were willing to save us from the genocide. They took care of us by giving us a place to stay while feeding and protecting us. We were lucky to have caring friends that would risk their livelihood to take us in.While we were so thankful to have these Hutu friends that would protect us, it was difficult to maintain the façade that we were of the Hutu tribe when we had such sorrow for the people we had lost. Every day was such a struggle. One day we were living side by side, sharing food and crops, and the next day we were hated for no apparent reason. It made me sick when I heard people laughing at how many people had died, or how many people they had killed. There were streets filled with dead bodies that seemed like they went on for miles. Looking at all the burned houses would make me want to cry and always remind me of my family. I knew I had to be strong for my little siblings; I tried not to cry around them. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep at night. Living with such fear that someone might figure out we were part of the Tutsi people, and kill us at any time. I felt completely alone. There were barely any Tutsi survivors, in fact the Hutus thought they killed them all. All in all, 11 percent of Rwanda’s total population was killed during the genocide, and an estimated 800,000 Tutsi’s were killed.
Now its 2011, I still live in Rwanda, and am married to my husband Sentwall and we have three children. After the genocide took place, there was much rebuilding. This was due in part to the peace created by the Tutsi-led rebel army termed the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF). They declared a complete victory in July of 1994. They helped create a new government, stressed national unity and urged us to consider ourselves Rwandans, rather than from a specific tribe. Since then, more than half of primary schools have re-opened, so my kids are able to get an education. Today they will learn about the horrible acts and things that happened in my childhood. I still look back on the days when almost all of my Tutsi people were killed, and all of the horrible memories of the genocide.
There were several reasons why the genocide occurred. There was extreme over population, which caused fierce competition for economic resources and food production. The high population density caused stress to their society. Even though they had many farmers, the population grew too fast and their agricultural production was inefficient. They had to depend on tools like the handheld hoes, picks, and machetes that was manual labor and resulted in slow production. Although they showed the five key traits of a complex civilization, they were unable to provide the basic essentials of food, clean water, shelter, and sanitation. With high population, a shortage of food, and ethnic diversity it resulted in the tragic outcome of genocide.
In addition, this genocide resulted from pre-exisiting ethnic hatred spurred by greedy politicians seeking to control their own destiny. The rulers (Hutus) stimulated ancient tribal hatred and brought it to a modern form. They believed that by eliminating an entire ethnic race (Tutsi), they would restore the support for their political party and help them prevail. Although many people agree that there is strong support for this theory, there lack of food supply and a growing population clearly had an influence in the genocide that took place.
In reflecting back, I can safely say that it was not only due to ethnic hatred. As difficult as it is to understand such hatred of a race, it happened in a climate of lack of food, lack of resources and agriculture, and extreme overpopulation that made daily survival extremely difficult. The combination resulted in entire races thinking that the only solution would be to kill off another race in order to ultimately survive. It became the answer to all problems, but clearly, it was only the beginning of a massive historical tragedy that will never be forgotten.