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| Recovered skulls of the victims of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide in a display case in the Kigali Genocide Memorial. Photo: Arlana Shikongo |
Immigration desks always scare me. There's just something about the austerity with which they demand for a passport or visa, or sternly question: "Why are you visiting?" and "Where are you staying?"
In Kigali, however, the immigration officer waved me over with a smile on his face and rather than demanding my “passport, please” he asked: ‘How are you, madam?’
The smile swept across his caramel-coloured, oblong face caught me by surprise.
I would later learn that the Rwandeses’ affability was a remnant of the sore, violent history that gripped the small, 26,000 square kilometres, land-locked country in 1994.
The ‘Heart of Africa’, as it has so affectionately come to be known, is a fraction of Namibia’s size. It could fit in the southwest African country I call home more than 30 times.
However, as my eyes attempted to find the edge of the unending rolling hills blanketed in green, Kigali displayed an enormity that makes one forget that it is the capital city of one of the smallest nations on the continent.
As we pulled out of the airport, my eyes darted across my surroundings trying to ascertain some understanding of a place my mind had preconceived as worn, ruined, pained and burdened because of the 100-day long bloodshedding of the Tutsi tribe.
Instead, I marvelled at the wonder of infrastructure standing atop what appeared to be insurmountable hillsides, tarred roads on which traffic operated smoothly despite the lack of traffic lights, and the unending lush greenery reminiscent of tropical landscapes that I only ever imagined in Tanzania or Ghana.
“Where are you from?” the driver implored as we trekked the winding road from the airport to a very modern hotel situated in the city centre, or what my the driver called ‘New Kigali'.
“From Namibia,” I responded briskly, my eyes still exploring the contrasting mix of recently renovated buildings and the worn ones poised directly next to them.
“Namibia!” he exclaimed. “Such a rich country, with many minerals and riches… How is the leadership? Are the people friendly?”
After some pause, I shortly said: "Yes."
Under different circumstances, I might have found the question slightly offensive, as it seemed to question the efficacy of Namibia's political system, especially considering the nation's abundant natural resources.
He continued to ask me about Namibia: when the country gained its independence, who its colonisers were, how many tribes live within the country, and the dynamics between the different tribes.
Probing as the questions were, I understood where they were coming from.
A mere 30 years ago, Rwanda bore witness to one of the darkest chapters in human history, as ethnic tensions between the Hutu majority and Tutsi minority erupted into a brutal genocide. Over the course of a hundred days, close to a million Rwandans, primarily Tutsis but also moderate Hutus, were violently slaughtered, by their neighbours, friends and fellow countrymen.
In the capital city, the Kigali Genocide Memorial serves as both a poignant testament and a painful reminder of that tragic history.
The memorial was built on a hillside in Gisozi, a district of the city. Going down the mountainside, mass graves preserved in black granite stone span for a few kilometres. Approximately 250,000 Rwandan bodies are buried here.
The smile swept across his caramel-coloured, oblong face caught me by surprise.
I would later learn that the Rwandeses’ affability was a remnant of the sore, violent history that gripped the small, 26,000 square kilometres, land-locked country in 1994.
The ‘Heart of Africa’, as it has so affectionately come to be known, is a fraction of Namibia’s size. It could fit in the southwest African country I call home more than 30 times.
However, as my eyes attempted to find the edge of the unending rolling hills blanketed in green, Kigali displayed an enormity that makes one forget that it is the capital city of one of the smallest nations on the continent.
As we pulled out of the airport, my eyes darted across my surroundings trying to ascertain some understanding of a place my mind had preconceived as worn, ruined, pained and burdened because of the 100-day long bloodshedding of the Tutsi tribe.
Instead, I marvelled at the wonder of infrastructure standing atop what appeared to be insurmountable hillsides, tarred roads on which traffic operated smoothly despite the lack of traffic lights, and the unending lush greenery reminiscent of tropical landscapes that I only ever imagined in Tanzania or Ghana.
“Where are you from?” the driver implored as we trekked the winding road from the airport to a very modern hotel situated in the city centre, or what my the driver called ‘New Kigali'.
“From Namibia,” I responded briskly, my eyes still exploring the contrasting mix of recently renovated buildings and the worn ones poised directly next to them.
“Namibia!” he exclaimed. “Such a rich country, with many minerals and riches… How is the leadership? Are the people friendly?”
After some pause, I shortly said: "Yes."
Under different circumstances, I might have found the question slightly offensive, as it seemed to question the efficacy of Namibia's political system, especially considering the nation's abundant natural resources.
He continued to ask me about Namibia: when the country gained its independence, who its colonisers were, how many tribes live within the country, and the dynamics between the different tribes.
Probing as the questions were, I understood where they were coming from.
A mere 30 years ago, Rwanda bore witness to one of the darkest chapters in human history, as ethnic tensions between the Hutu majority and Tutsi minority erupted into a brutal genocide. Over the course of a hundred days, close to a million Rwandans, primarily Tutsis but also moderate Hutus, were violently slaughtered, by their neighbours, friends and fellow countrymen.
In the capital city, the Kigali Genocide Memorial serves as both a poignant testament and a painful reminder of that tragic history.
The memorial was built on a hillside in Gisozi, a district of the city. Going down the mountainside, mass graves preserved in black granite stone span for a few kilometres. Approximately 250,000 Rwandan bodies are buried here.
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| Mass graves preserved in black granite. Photo: Arlana Shikongo |
This number continues to grow each year, as the remains of bodies found in unmarked graves around the country are brought to this site and others for a ‘dignified burial’.
At the core of the Kigali Genocide Memorial lies the stories and resilience of survivors, embodying the heart of Rwanda's collective memory. Here, survivors find solace and a sense of belonging, their testimonies serving as a testament to the enduring spirit of the nation.
The memorial houses a touching tribute to the children lost during the genocide – an exhibition which forces one to stifle tears when viewing photos of their innocent faces, descriptions of their favourite toys, their final words, and the tragic way in which they were murdered.
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| Picture wall of the children murdered during the genocide. Photos: Arlana Shikongo |
Their toys and clothes, now displayed in transparent boxes, vividly bring to life the fleeting moments of their existence.
As I navigated the exhibition, a young Rwandese woman stood beside me as I read each placard of each child and took a moment to memorialise them. The young woman, who could not have been much older than 25, seemed to do the same. As we made our way to the end, I could see in her eyes that this memorial had touched her as profoundly as it had touched me.
It is evident in the demeanour of the Rwandese, most of whom describe themselves as the ‘orphans of Rwanda’, that the bloodshed of 1994 left a lasting and profound effect on the population.
And now, 30 years since the brutal massacre, Rwanda continues to confront this tainted past while striving towards a brighter future. It's a pivotal step towards building resilient communities that are equipped to combat identity-based violence in the future.
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| The clothing worn by victims of the massacre when they were found. Photo: Arlana Shikongo |
Despite the scars left by the genocide, the nation has made remarkable progress in reconciliation, economic development, and social cohesion, as the country continues its journey of healing and rebuilding.
Remembering those lost to the genocide isn't merely about honouring their memory but also about understanding the lessons they impart.
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| Skulls of genocide victims with some of the items found on them. Photo: Arlana Shikongo |
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| Picture wall remembering the victims of the genocide. Photo: Arlana Shikongo |
*Disclaimer: The pictures featured were taken during a visit to Kigali, Rwanda in 2019. While every effort has been made to accurately represent the exhibits at the memorial, please note that the content may have changed since that time.
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