Africa-Press – Rwanda. Rosine Uwimpuwe, a 43-year-old urologist at Kabgayi Hospital, is one of the survivors of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda left to tell a horror story from the agonising experience during the massacres.
She was 12 when the genocide started in April 1994.
At the time, she lived with her family in Musambira Commune, in present-day Kamonyi District. While life seemed normal, tension was evident, especially in the reactions of neighbours whenever her family listened to Radio Muhabura, a radio station run by the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) during the liberation war from 1990 to 1994.
Uwimpuwe was among thousands of the Tutsi who sought refuge at a Kabgayi Catholic Diocese-run primary school in Muhanga District, where the arrival of RPF-Inkotanyi at exactly 9 a.m, on June 2, 1994, finally brought hope and a smile in their faces.
“When the genocide began, my parents sent me, my two brothers, and big sister, out to seek shelter from our sister’s fellow nuns in the Kivumu community, hoping they would protect us since they had become like family. However, the nuns refused and instead directed us to a nearby primary school where many fleeing Tutsi had gathered,” she recalled.
“We stayed at the school for about three days before the genocidaires arrived and killed many people. The survivors were then moved to a nearby cathedral.”
Uwimpuwe remembers their journey to Kabgayi, on April 15, after Father Vjeko Curic, a Franciscan priest, recognized the grave danger refugees in Kivumu faced. He began transporting them to Kabgayi, believing they would be safer there. Despite the risks, he made daily trips, often paying bribes to Interahamwe militias stationed at roadblocks.
During the 1994 Genocide, Kabgayi became a refuge for thousands of the Tutsi from Gitarama Prefecture communes especially Mushubati, Tambwe, Ntongwe, Mugina, Taba, Buringa and others who had escaped massacres from Kigali.
They sought safety in places like a primary school, Petit Séminaire de Kabgayi, Saint Joseph Secondary School, and a convent nicknamed CND. Many believed, as in 1959, that reaching church grounds would ensure their protection.
“After spending a month in Kabgayi, I returned to Musambira to check on my family which had taken refuge at the local health post along with others. To my devastation, I learned that my father, Valens Ntibugaruka, who had once promised to pay for my seminary education, had already been killed.”
The sad news left her in shock. Her mother, Immaculée Nyiramatafari, urged her to return to Kabgayi for her safety, but she insisted they return together. Her mother refused, and she went back alone. Tragically, her mother was killed the very next day.
Now a mother of three, Uwimpuwe recalls how Interahamwe militia had vowed to kill her mother because her two brothers had joined RPF-Inkotanyi. The killers speculated that her sons were among those bombing them and declared that no one else should pay the price except their mother—mockingly calling her the “mother of Inkotanyi” and the rest of the Tutsi.
“They dug a pit and threw her in, alive. She was stoned to death. The militia leaders later ordered a stop to the killings, saying they had accomplished their mission by killing ‘Mama w’Inkotanyi’. That’s how she died, just a day after I left. It broke me completely. I felt there was no reason left to live,” she said.
Uwimpuwe said that the situation worsened just two days after her mother’s death when she received devastating news that her spiritual mother had also been taken, along with others, to be thrown into Nyabarongo River. At Kabgayi, many Tutsi, mostly men and boys, were rounded up, loaded onto buses of ONATRACOM, a state-owned transport company, and taken to Ngororerow where they were executed.
“This pushed me into deep trauma,” she said. “I started questioning why I hadn’t been killed too.”
As noted, Interahamwe militia from different communes, led by their leaders – especially Jean Paul Akayesu and Sixbert Ndayambaje, the mayors of Taba and Runda communes, respectively – toured different communes calling out Tutsi by their names to be killed.
According to Uwimpuwe, life in Kabgayi was extremely difficult. The hiding places were insecure, and no one could think beyond the day. Many believed that even if they escaped the machetes, they would eventually die from hunger.
Killers regularly raided the area, randomly picking people to kill. Anyone who attempted to sneak out risked being caught and murdered by militias from Guhuma and Kamazulu.
Hope finally arrived on the morning of June 2, when RPF/A fighters entered Kabgayi.
Few people knew who they were, but Uwimpuwe did because her two brothers had joined the liberation movement, although one of them later died and his whereabouts remain unknown.
“They arrived and engaged in heavy fighting. That morning, we were rescued. But I was overwhelmed with depression, thinking I’d never continue school since my parents were gone.”
As they were being moved to safer locations, Uwimpuwe felt extremely weak and sat down, questioning why she was even walking.
“One of the Inkotanyi soldiers saw me and carried me for over a kilometre,” she said, adding that she is still moved by the act of compassion that gave her strength to carry on.
“He asked me, ‘Are you okay now?’ I said yes. That gave me hope, and I was able to recharge again. I felt a sense of life returning and felt even more cared for. All the distance we later covered was because of that soldier. Unfortunately, I have never met him again. That still hurts me to this day. I owe him a lot,” she said.
The group was later taken to Rwabusoro in Bugesera District where they catered for until the situation improved.
Uwimpuwe remains shocked by how people had changed, especially those who killed her father, as they were neighbours who had once shared everything, even basic needs, with her family.
Her father had sought refuge, only to be found by his own friend and his best man who – instead of protecting him – murdered him. Instead of trying to save him, the friend who was a police man, killed her father, claiming he did not want other killers to use machetes on him.
“The policeman told my father, ‘Valens, you are my friend. I can’t let them cut you with machetes. Let me shoot you instead.’ That was the only mercy he showed my father.”
Just like many other Tutsi who had fled to different places, there came a time when they were able to return home and begin rebuilding their lives from scratch.
“Inkotanyi brought us back home, helped renovate our houses, and we resumed school. Of course, it wasn’t easy without our parents, but FARG – a genocide survivors assistance fund – supported us. We would lock our house, go to school, and return in the evening. We all completed our education. I now hold a master’s degree specializing in diagnosing and treating conditions affecting the kidneys and urinary system,” she said.
Uwimpuwe survived along with 10 siblings who are also in good health and economically stable.
She still feels deeply grateful to RPF-Inkotanyi and believes she owes them a great deal. It took her some time to come to terms with everything and begin joining others during genocide commemoration events.
“After engaging in dialogue, I finally accepted it. I am truly thankful to Inkotanyi who rescued us, especially the soldier who carried me. I haven’t seen him again but he was the beginning of the new me. I owe them a lot. They helped me multiple times. To me, they signify life.”
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