While in Rwanda on a Christian mission trip and completing a Marathon, I came across two inspiring women who were prepared to speak to me about losing their families in the Rwandan Genocide, marking the 25th anniversary of the tragedy.
Jessica Lester
Captions:
Many victims, like Lydias father, were killed and thrown into mass graves
Lydia, 28, pictured with her daughters Esther, three, and Deborah, 11-months in Kigali, Rwanda
Marceline, pictured here with daughter Quin, lost her entire family during the genocide
Life had been totally destroyed by the genocide and many families had been totally torn apart
Towns had been ripped apart by the killings, leaving behind hundreds-of-thousands of skeletons
Like many other children, Marceline lost her entire family during the genocide
Many people were killed as they hid in churches and schools, desperately seeking safety
Bodies of Tutsi genocide victims lie outside a church in Rukara, Rwanda
RUNNING as fast as she could in the dark, terrified nine-year-old Marceline had no idea she was fleeing a genocide which would wipe out her entire family.
She was one hundreds of thousands of Tutsi people being hunted by the government-backed Hutu militia as tensions between the two tribes boiled over.
The genocide took place between April 7 and July 15 1994, with a million Tutsi people slaughtered.
It came during the Rwandan Civil War, a conflict between the Rwandan Armed Forces and the rebel Rwandan Patriotic Front, and was sparked by the death of the Rwandan President, a Hutu. His plane was shot down above Kigali airport on 6th April 1994 and Tutsis were blamed.
Twenty-five years on, Marceline remembers the harrowing day her family, including her six siblings, was torn apart in devastating detail.
“One night, soldiers entered our village and we had no choice but to flee,” the mother-of-five says. “My parents ordered us to run – all in different directions from one another.
“I waited until the sun rose to turn back home, but when I got there, everything had been totally destroyed.
“I sat on the bricks and waited in case my family returned – but nobody came. Instead, a militiaman found me there and took me into one of our neighbour’s houses to keep me there as his prisoner.”
The genocide saw friends, neighbours and even families turn on one another – with Hutus killing Tutsi men, women and even children in broad daylight.
It was against this backdrop that nine-year-old Marcheline fled her home on that night, never expecting it would be the last time she saw her family.
‘I was a human pet’
With many women and children raped and forced to give birth to their Hutu captor’s children during the atrocity, Marceline knows she was one of the fortunate ones.
“I was lucky – he never abused me or tried to rape me,” she said. “I was just his prisoner or like his human pet.”
A few days later he let her go, believing she was cursed – but warning he would kill her with his bayonette if he saw her again.
“I just ran as fast as I could,” she says, speaking from the backroom of the Zion Temple Church in capital city Kigali.
“I kept running to a village where I knew I had a distant aunt and when I found her, we hid together for a week or two.
“But the militia caught up again. They stormed the church we were hiding in one day. They came in armed with spears and guns and shot into the crowd.”
Living in terror
Marceline’s aunt fell to the floor and she initially thought she’d fainted – but then saw blood soaking through her clothes from a bullet wound.
“I saw blood pouring from her body and her eyes roll back,” she says. “She died right there in front of me.”
Marceline had to flee again, and this time a kind Hutu man took her in. She hid under sacks of grain in his shed until the genocide was over.
“I feared for my life every second,” she explains. “Every noise was a threat and I became convinced I would die there. That man hiding me saved my life.”
Marceline, who is now a mum of five, spent time at a safe house run by the RPF, the political party which ended the genocide and has ruled since, before going home.
“I really believed I would be reunited with my family,” she says.
“I thought they would all be alive and we could continue as our life was before, but it quickly became obvious that I was the only survivor.
“All of them had been killed in the genocide. Not a single one had been spared or found their escape. I was left orphaned and alone – and the saddest moment of my life was realising I’d have to continue without them.”
‘I will mourn forever’
Marceline was looked after by distant relatives is now married and mum to baby Quin and three other biological children: Marcelin, six, Josephine, four, Kevin, two, as well as an adopted son, Prince, one.
“Life after the genocide was tough, not just because I had lost my family, but I’d lost so many people I’d known,” she explains.
“Whole areas had been wiped out. It’s the reason my children don’t have aunts, uncles or grandparents. The genocide took my entire family in just moments.
“I still mourn for everyone that I lost and I expect I will forever. The pain continues for me, even 25 years since that horrible day. I will never allow myself to forget.”
It’s a feeling which is shared by her country, which marked the anniversary of the genocide in April.
A remembrance flame was lit in Kigali and left burning for 100 days – the same amount of time the slaughter, which killed a tenth of the country, lasted.
Kids murdered on their way to school
Lydia, 28, lives in Kigali, where the worst of the atrocities occurred and over 250,000 were buried in mass graves.
She was four when the horror unfolded, and had a happy family with nine brothers and sisters and Tutsi parents.
Four of her siblings were already living in Uganda because of political unrest, but at the time Lydia didn’t really grasp what was happening – until tragedy struck.
“It was only days after the genocide had begun that my sister Benita, who was a few years older than me, was killed by soldiers as she travelled to school,” she explains.
“The militia had thrown a bomb into her school bus.
“I remember being told Benita was dead but not understanding what was happening.
“We were frightened knowing that the militia were prepared to throw grenades into buses full of innocent children. It was worse than anyone could have thought.”
A pit full of bodies
Days later her dad was in a bar when Hutu locals threw explosives into it.
He didn’t die, but his extensive injuries meant he was easily identifiable.
“As he got better and started going back outside, the militia were able to hunt him down,” Lydia said.
“One night, they stormed our house and screamed at us to give up our father to them.
“We had no choice but to watch as they led him away into the forest, dragging him through the dirt by his arms.
“My brother followed in secret and hid in a tree.
“He watched as they took him to a pit full of bodies, and with one heavy strike, killed our father and threw his body into the hole. My poor brother screamed all night – he still re-lives that horrible moment.”
The family fled to an aunt’s house, but her husband favoured the Hutus and tried to give them up to the militia.
They hid in a wooden bed frame, with their mother so terrified she refused to come out.
Lydia and her sister eventually sought asylum at the Tanzanian embassy – but had to leave their petrified mother behind.
“We waited in the embassy for weeks until the genocide was over, only hearing about it through the radio from our hiding spot there,” she adds.
“As soon as it was over, we went straight back to our home town but when we arrived, there was nothing to see. Everything had been destroyed – our homes were torn down to the floor. There was nothing.”
Blood-stained tiles
The family moved into a nearby house that was stained by the dried blood of the Tutsi family who had been slaughtered there just days before.
“We scrubbed blood from the tiles in that house,” Lydia remembers.
“Our struggle felt never-ending considering everything we’d already been through.”
Although Lydia’s mother survived the horrific ordeal, she suffered from severe mental illness – thought to be post-traumatic stress disorder and anxiety.
Not long after, she died of a heart attack.
Lydia now lives comfortably with her husband and daughters Esther, three, and baby Deborah.
“I have to be strong for my children,” she says.
“I have to keep going through the pain for them. But one day they will know and understand.
“So for now, despite how the genocide haunts me and all my family who survived, I remain hopeful and keep pushing – it’s what I’ve had to do to survive.”
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