Lionel Manzi
Africa-Press – Rwanda. There was some sense of relief among survivors of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi when France’s Orleans administrative tribunal upheld the mayor’s decision: Protais Zigiranyirazo would not be buried in the municipal cemetery.
At long last, a measure of justice. Justice that was denied back in 2009, when the infamous Judge Theodor Meron, presiding over the ICTR Appeals Chamber, overturned Zigiranyirazo’s 2008 conviction for genocide and extermination as a crime against humanity. Meron refused to hold him accountable for crimes everyone knew to be undeniable, but the world’s conscience never forgot. Zigiranyirazo remained guilty—his name a stain on his family even in death. Those who continue to deny and distort the 1994 Genocide may be beyond redemption, but for most Rwandans, Orleans serves as a reassuring reminder: justice may falter, but truth endures.
“Work” in the shadows: Zigiranyirazo’s conspiracy to exterminate the Tutsi
Zigiranyirazo was a key figure in the machinery that fueled the genocide against the Tutsi. A member of Parliament in 1969, prefect of Kibuye in 1973, and prefect of Ruhengeri from 1974 to 1989, he was also the brother of Agathe Kanziga and, through her, the brother-in-law of President Juvenal Habyarimana. As a member of Akazu, the powerful informal network of Hutu extremists close to Habyarimana, Zigiranyirazo wielded influence far beyond official titles.
His name appears in a 1992 document titled “Interahamwe za Muvoma”, authored by MRND member Anastase Gasana, which identified him as one of the key persons responsible for creating the infamous Interahamwe (MRND militia) and overseeing their recruitment.
Zigiranyirazo’s actions were not peripheral; they were central to the planning and execution of the genocide.
On the night of April 6, 1994, he gathered with his sister, Kanziga, and key military figures, including Col Anathole Sengiyumva, at President Habyarimana’s palace. In that fateful meeting, they drew up lists of prominent Tutsi and Hutu political opponents to be killed. This was a chilling blueprint and a clear signal for mass murder. Michel Bagaragaza, former Director General of Rwanda’s tea industry office, a genocide convinct and participant in the meeting, later testified to their actions.
But Zigiranyirazo’s role went far beyond that single night. Witnesses recalled him orchestrating and encouraging killings at multiple gatherings: in 1992 at Giciye, Ruhengeri, he labeled Tutsi as the “enemy” and urged that citizens be mobilized against them; in late April 1994, in Gisenyi prefecture, he incited the crowd in attendance at Umuganda Stadium to kill the Tutsi. At a football field in Nyundo, he promised to give weapons to Interahamwe militia. He participated in numerous other meetings where his directives sealed the fate of the Tutsi. His hand in planning and organizing the genocide was undeniable. But at every turn, his defense exploited legal loopholes, such as the prosecution’s failure to include some of these meetings in the indictment, and Meron and his colleagues went along.
The most outrageous decision was the judges’ ruling on Zigiranyirazo’ role in the Kesho Hill killings on April 8, 1994, in Gisenyi prefecture. He had led a convoy of armed presidential guards, gendarmes, and Interahamwe with the aim of finishing off the Tutsi who had sought refuge on the hill after repelling an initial attack. He delivered a speech that the killers applauded, and immediately afterward, the slaughter began, leaving more than 1,407 Tutsi dead. Despite Zigiranyirazo’ presence, his well-known authority and influence as the brother-in-law of the deceased president, and the fact that his applauded speech directly preceded the attacks, the judges insisted that none of the witnesses—survivors hiding in the hills—could confirm what Zigiranyirazo said. On that basis, they decided no inference could be made that he ordered the killings. Let that sink in: over 1,400 lives, and justice turned a blind eye.
Is it even necessary to add that the same judges found nothing wrong with Zigiranyirazo’ behavior, despite Interahamwe manning at least three roadblocks near his house where Tutsi were killed, the fact that he occasionally sent food and drinks to these militias, or that on one occasion his own son, Antoine Mukiza Zigiranyirazo, executed three gendarme deserters at one of these roadblocks? They ruled that providing food and drink to killers was not encouragement, that Zigiranyirazo had no authority over his son, and that he played no role in erecting the roadblocks. Zigiranyirazo walked free in 2009, but history only remembers his 2008 conviction; it has caught up with him—even in death.
‘Les faits sont têtus’
As the French like to say, the facts are stubborn.
The saga of Zigiranyirazo reminds us that some truths cannot be erased, no matter how judges like Meron, genocide deniers, or legal loopholes try to obscure them. For genocide perpetrators, confronting the past and atoning for their crimes is the only path to redemption.
Justice can fail, but Rwandans remember. Zigiranyirazo never asked for forgiveness. He denied his crimes. But even after one court shockingly freed him, he remained in “prison”: unable to set foot on his homeland and begging for years to reunite with his family in Europe. Now his tortured soul is struggling to find a place to rest because the administrative tribunal in Orléans and the city’s mayor understood the truth: Zigiranyirazo’s guilt was never in doubt, no matter how hard Judge Meron and his colleagues twisted the law and exploited loopholes to whitewash him. So, a Mass was granted to that soul, but eucharist and testimony were denied—because what good is there in delivering a eulogy for an unrepentant mass murderer?
Genocide deniers, especially those whose parents committed the unthinkable, may wonder how to distance themselves from that legacy. The answer is never promoting denial. Denial may temporarily mislead, but the facts remain stubborn and unyielding. Today, Zigiranyirazo’s name remains tarnished, his presence undesired, his crimes undeniable. Morally corrupt judges may quibble over loopholes or throw out witnesses, but the truth can never be sentenced away. This is the lesson for all of us: recognition of wrongdoing, accountability, and the courage to face the past are the only paths towards a better future.
Indeed, les faits sont têtus. Denial may persist, loopholes may exist, but the truth of what happened in Rwanda will never be silenced.
Source: The New Times
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