23 March 2024
At the beginning of this year, I wrote about visiting the world’s dark places. About however unpleasant, however bad or sad or angry it makes me feel, it is necessary. I can choose whether to go – or not. Those who suffered through unimaginable horrors did not have a choice. I owe it to them to hear their story. At the very least.
So I am in Rwanda. Just arrived in Kigali. It’s late at night, and one of the first things I notice is Amahoro Stadium. You can’t miss it really. It’s huge, with room for 45,000, and all lit up. Technicolour against the African night sky.
24 March 2024
Today, I have visited two dark places. Two former churches, one in Ntarama and one in Nyamata, both in the Bugesera district, ca 30 km from Kigali. Two churches, where thousands sought refuge from violence and death. Churches have always been sanctuaries for those who flee from terror. Not so here. In 1994, the churches in Ntarama and Nyamata became death traps.
Ntarama
Antoine welcomes me to what was once Ntarama Catholic church. Today, it is one of 6 genocide memorial sites in Rwanda. We sit down in the reception, and he calmly tells the story. Some of it, I remember from the news back then. Much of it, I have never heard before. All of it is utter horror.
Almost one million people were brutally butchered during a few short summer months in 1994. But a number – even such an colossal one – is just that. A number. Here at Ntarama is where I first really understand what that means.
On 15 April 1994, police, soldiers, Interahamwe (Hutu militias) and local volunteers, used clubs, machetes and spears to massacre 5,000 Tutsis right here. Occasionally guns were used, but they didn’t want to waste bullets. Most of the people were killed inside the church. For three years after, the bodies were left as they were.
Ntarama church
We go outside, towards the red-brick church. Photos are not allowed inside, so it will have to be words:
Entering the church, what first meet my eyes, are skulls. A glass cabinet full of human skulls, most of them clearly showing how they met their end. A few have bullet holes. Some have pieces of a spear lodged in it. By far, most of the skulls bear marks of having been sliced by machetes. Neat cuts front to back. Or side to side.
The clothes of thousands of victims hang on racks along the walls. I see shoes and the victims’ personal belongings.
Murder was not enough. According to the UN, between 150,000 and 250,000 women were raped and mutilated during the atrocities. Women and children were particular targets, to ensure no more Tutsis would be born. Children were forced to kill their friends and neighbours. Women were forced to kill their own children.
Over in the corner, I notice a collection of long wooden sticks. I ask about their significance. These were rammed up women’s vaginas, I hear. All the way up to the shoulder. On the brick wall behind the sticks is a large dark spot. Remains of babies, cut out of their mothers’ wombs and smashed against the wall.
It takes only the tiniest leap of the imagination to hear the screams, to smell the fear.
Back outside, with photos once again allowed, is a long black memorial wall with names of the victims inscribed. Ca. 6,000 bodies are buried underneath, the 5,000 butchered here and those found elsewhere in the vicinity. Down the ramp here are several rooms with rows upon rows of coffins on shelves. Coffins covered with lace, as is Rwandan tradition. In the back are empty shelves, ready for more coffins. Bodies are still being discovered and retrieved, 30 years later.
Nyamata
A short drive from Ntarama, is another of Rwanda’s genocide memorial sites: the former Catholic church at Nyamata, with yet another mass grave.
In 1992, government soldiers and local militias killed several hundred Tutsis in the Bugesera district, an organised rehearsal for what was to come 2 years later.
Outside the church, along one of the walls, is the grave of Antonia Locatelli, an Italian missionary and teacher, working in the school across the street. After seeing people being murdered, she attempted to save 400 Tutsis. Her house was full of refugees and she kept the foreign media, particularly the BBC and Radio France Internationale (RFI), updated on events. On 9 March 1992, she said to RFI:
I know that the people who came to commit these murders came from outside. They were brought by Government vehicles. Contrary to what the Government said, these killings targeting the Tutsi were not a spontaneous anger by the population, but a deliberate movement by the Government to kill the Tutsi.
That same evening, the Presidential Guard came from Kigali and executed Antonia. In front of her house, where refugees were hiding.
Two years later, 10,000 were massacred in the church here at Nyamata.
Entering the church, I brace myself.
Inside, piles of clothes are laid out on the benches. Thousands and thousands of skirts, dresses, trousers… Downstairs are vaults with coffins. Shrapnel from shelling is still visible in the roof and walls.
It does not feel quite as gruesome as Ntarama. Maybe because Ntarama is a much smaller, more intimate space? Or maybe because I have already seen it? That is a scary thought.
Outside are the mass graves. Ca. 50,000 are buried underneath here. 10,000 of them were murdered inside the church.
Hotel des Milles Collines
Back in Kigali, my intention was to visit the Genocide Memorial Museum. But I have had as much as I can take today, so I choose not to. And again I am reminded I have choices. What a bloody luxury that is.
Instead, I am now sat on a bar stool at Hotel des Milles Collines, the hotel of a thousand hills. You will perhaps know it as Hotel Rwanda, after the film.
Tomorrow, I’ll go visit Rwanda’s Genocide Memorial Museum. It’s the least I can do.
The Rwandan Genocide
For centuries, the people of Rwanda – Hutus and Tutsis alike – lived together in relative peace. The Hutu originally came from Central Africa, the Tutsi from Ethiopia.
The Tutsi was the minority, rich and powerful cattle herders, soldiers and administrators. The Hutus were poor farmers. But the difference was one of social class, and it was perfectly possible to move between the classes. A poor Tutsi could end up amongst the Hutu class. A Hutu that managed to acquire enough cattle, could become a Tutsi. Ethnicity was never a part of it. Then came the Europeans and messed up yet another country and its people. The Belgians this time.
Today, we find it abhorrent that people should in any way be divided and sorted according to ethnicity. But in colonial times, white Europeans considered themselves superior. They didn’t know any better. Ignorance is the kindest explanation I can think of. Anything else presupposes a nasty mix of arrogance and stupidity, and we won’t go there.
The Ethiopian ancestry meant the Tutsi looked more similar to Europeans; their facial features, lighter skin, taller stature. Also, they were more willing to convert to Catholicism. Soon, the social divide became a question of ethnicity, a much, much worse situation. Social class is fluent; your genetics are unchangeable. The Belgian occupiers added ‘race’ on the Rwandan identity cards: 15% Tutsi, 84% Hutu and 1% Twa. (The Twa was Rwanda’s first inhabitants, living in the country’s forests, and stigmatised by Hutus and Tutsis alike. About 1/3 of the Twa population fell victim to the Rwandan genocide.)
The Belgian occupiers clearly favoured Tutsis; they gave them numerous privileges and put them in positions of power. Naturally, the Hutus rebelled. (Wouldn’t we all?) First in 1959 – against both the Belgians and the Tutsi minority elite. 150,000 Tutsis were forced to flee to neighbouring countries, and gradually, the Hutu majority gained power.
Meanwhile, Tutsis were plotting their return. Over the years, they launched several attacks from abroad. Not unexpectedly, with each attack, Hutus retaliated against Tutsis still in Rwanda. More people fled the country.
In 1988, Tutsi exiles in Uganda founded RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front). The goal was repatriation. Two years later, after a massive RPF attack on Rwanda, thousands were displaced. The fronts hardened. All Tutsis still in Rwanda were now labeled RPF supporters, and Hutus with any sympathy for Tutsis were considered traitors. The media, particularly Radio Television Libres Des Mille Collines (RTLM), inflamed the situation by spreading vicious rumours.
In October 1993, the UN Security Council established United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR), to support the peace process. As it turned out, these efforts didn’t amount to much. Violence increased, the security situation deteriorated, and whilst participating in the peace talks, extremist Hutus were plotting a Tutsi genocide.
1994
And then comes Rwanda’s annus horribilis. During 100 days – from April to July 1994 – Hutus systematically murder more than 800 000. Some sources say the number is over 1 million. The large majority of those murdered are Tutsis, though some are Hutu ‘traitors’: married to Tutsis, or trying to rescue Tutsis from being butchered.
On the evening of 6 April, at 20.30, a surface-to-air missile hits a plane. On board are presidents Juvenal Habyarimana of Rwanda and Cyprien Ntaryamira of Burundi, both Hutus, returning from peace talks. The Hutus blame the murder on Tutsi rebels. The media (RTLM) spreads rumours that Tutsis and Belgian UN soldiers are responsible for the crash, and agitate for eliminating the Inyenzi – ‘cockroaches’, referring to the Tutsis.
(Later, a government inquiry concluded that it was a deliberate attack by Hutu extremists opposed to the impending peace agreement with RPF. It was also a pretext to commence a meticulously planned genocide to exterminate Rwanda’s Tutsis.)
Shortly after the crash, the president’s guards begin killing civilian Tutsis near the airport. Militias have set up roadblocks to identify Tutsis.
Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana, a moderate Hutu, is next in line of succession. She needs protection. At 01.18 on 7 April, UNAMIR dispatches 10 Belgian peacekeepers to her home to escort her to Radio Rwanda, to address the nation. That never happens. At 05.42, Hutu soldiers surround her house and open fire. The PM and her husband take refuge in a neighbouring house. At 11.45, they are found, both executed, point-blank.
Meanwhile, the 10 Belgians are taken prisoner, and brought to what is ostensibly a safe location, which is anything but. At 09.00 they arrive at the army barracks at Camp Kigali.
Incited by the rumours that the Belgian peacekeepers are responsible for shooting down the president’s plane, Hutu soldiers present at Camp Kigali go on a rampage with clubs and bayonets, killing 4 of the Belgians. The rest manages to barricade in the guard house and fight for their lives. But they are vastly outnumbered. At 13.00, the soldiers throw explosive grenades through the roof of the guard house, killing the last of the peacekeepers.
As a result, Belgium withdraws the rest of its troops. Soon, other countries follow suit. 2 weeks after the genocide began, the UNAMIR force has been reduced from 2,165 to just 270 troops. Some of the member states of the Security Council – the USA, in particular, fearing another Somalia – are not willing to strengthen UNAMIR’s mandate and contribute additional troops.
And so the slaughter continues.
Finally, on 22 June, the Security Council authorise a humanitarian mission, which ends up saving hundreds of civilians. On 4 July, RPF takes control of the country, and on 15 July, the genocide ends, 100 days after it began.
The aftermath
Few of Rwandas judges are still alive and in the country, and the prisons are overwhelmed. The solution is ICTR – the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda – set up by the UN to hold high-level offenders accountable. Over the coming years, ICTR indicts 93 people and sentences 62. For the lower-level perpetrators, traditional Gacaca courts – tribunals headed by village elders – hear just under 2 million cases.
Today, like South Africa, Rwanda is healing through reconciliation. The words Hutu and Tutsi are no longer written in identity cards, or even spoken. All are Rwandans.
25 March 2024
The Genocide Memorial Museum
Tomorrow has arrived. I have a flight at 14.30. Before that, I will see the Genocide Memorial Museum here in Kigali, and if time permits, also the memorial to the peacekeepers. For once, I have breakfast. Need the extra strength.
Kwibuka means ‘remember’ in Kinyarwanda, and is an annual 100-day commemoration period, beginning on 7 April.
As with the churches in Ntarama and Nyamata, the museum is built next to mass graves. A quarter million people are buried here.
Inside the museum
Like the churches in Ntarama and Nyamata, photos are not allowed inside the museum, so again I am left with words.
Unlike the churches, you won’t find human remains here. No skulls marked by the weapon that took their life. No clothes, no shoes, no personal belongings. Walking through, I see informative posters and thought-provoking photos, documenting the genocide. A photo of an old identity card, showing ‘race’, is chilling. So is a newspaper article dated December 1990, persuading the Hutu majority to begin seeing their neighbours, their friends and even their families as enemies.
Then there’s the Hutu Ten Commandments, telling Hutus not to get involved with Tutsi women or business partners:
All Hutus must know that the Tutsi woman, wherever she may be, is serving the Tutsi ethnic group. In consequence, any Hutu who does the following is a traitor:
- Acquires a Tutsi wife
- Acquires a Tutsi mistress
- Acquires a Tutsi secretary or dependent
All Hutus must know that our Hutu daughters are more worthy and more conscientious in their role of woman, spouse and mother. Are they not more beautiful, good secretaries and more sincere.
Upstairs: L’avenir perdu – the lost future
Upstairs is an exhibit presenting genocides of the 20th century: in the Balkans, Cambodia, Japan and Germany. Upstairs is also the most evocative, painful and infuriating of all: the children’s room – the lost future. Underneath large photos are bios starting out like a school yearbook:
Francine Murengezi Ingabire – Age: 12, Favourite sport: swimming, Favourite food: eggs and chips, Favourite drink: milk and Fanta tropical, Best friend: her older sister Claudette, Cause of death: hacked by machete.
David Mugiraneza – Age: 10, Favourite sport: football, Enjoyed: making people laugh, Dream: becoming a doctor, Last words: mama, UNAMIR will come for us, Cause of death: tortured to death
Fabrice Murinzi Minega, age 8, was bludgeoned with club. Ariane Umutoni, age 4, was stabbed in her eyes and head.
Hard to see. Hard to write. And for you, hard to read.
Memorial wall under construction
Camp Kigali: Belgian peacekeepers memorial
The 10 Belgian peacekeepers murdered during the first few hours of the genocide, are remembered here at Camp Kigali army barracks.
The guard room at the barracks, where the last of the peacekeepers were killed.
Each of the 10 peacekeepers has a stone pillar, with initials carved at the bottom. The number of horizontal cuts, is their age at death. Most of them were in their 20s.
Conclusion
I can’t help but be reminded of Auschwitz. But, somehow, to me, it feels worse here. At Auschwitz, you’ll most likely be lead through the concentration camp in a long queue. The noisy crowds have an almost anaesthetic effect, making it difficult to take it all in. At Ntarama, it’s just me and Antoine. I have his full attention, and he has mine, while he is telling the stories. At Nyamata, I walk through the church by myself. In total silence.
Also, the Rwandan Genocide happened in my lifetime. I remember it well. It was everywhere on the news those summer months in 1994. It seems like only yesterday we heard about the unimaginable terror going on, with the world watching, and not doing near enough to stop it. Just like we’re now not doing near enough to stop the genocide in Palestine.
Finally, there are the skulls. What used to be people’s heads, hacked by machetes.
How about you? Should you visit Rwanda’s genocide memorials?
Rwanda is a stunningly beautiful country, very much worth visiting and getting to know. It’s green and blossoming. It’s clean and safe, well maintained and well organised. And there are mountain gorillas.
It also holds the memory of absolute evil. It is mind-blowing in the very worst way.
There! You are warned!
If you, despite that, think it’s necessary that we learn from history, and that we pay respect to those who suffered, go!
If you do go, visit the Genocide Memorial Museum in Kigali. But even more importantly, visit at least one of the churches where it happened. I suspect we can never comprehend the horror, the fear, and the complete lack of human decency, but I think it can help bring us one small step closer to understanding.
As for seeing more of 21st century Rwanda, I will come back.
Memorial sites of the Genocide: Nyamata, Murambi, Gisozi and Bisesero is a UNESCO World Heritage site.
Here are more UNESCO World Heritage sites around the world.
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