Fleeing To The East

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM

FLEEING RWANDA AGAIN TOWARDS THE EAST

Fleeing to the East

After the Big Hand faded, becoming indistinct, I felt a presence lifting my weary head, poised to impart a message. A voice, unlike any I had ever heard, resonated with me. Its tone was deep and slightly unsettling, yet its clarity was astounding, even in its whispered state. It’s challenging to find an apt comparison in the real world for this voice. Though initially intimidating, the voice had a transformative effect, rejuvenating and reassuring, yet commanding at the same time. It evoked the sensation of being surrounded by majestic waterfalls like Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe or Niagara Falls in Ontario, Canada. The clarity of this voice, against such a backdrop, was as impeccable as if it were produced in a high-end recording studio.

The voice began to address me, “Son, soon you will emerge from this darkness, free from your constraints. But once you leave this place of torment, you’ll be compelled to depart from your homeland once more. This next departure won’t mirror your past exodus towards the West. Instead, you will be drawn to the East. There, in that promised land, you will find peace, prosperity, and a place to call home.”

As the mysterious voice addressed me, my spirit was elevated, soaring above the lush valleys and rolling hills of Rwanda. Though it bore a human form, my soul appeared as transparent as crystal, revealing its essence as light passed through. During this ethereal journey, my spirit glided above the landscape with the grace and precision reminiscent of a drone – a technology unbeknownst to the public in the late 1990s. My flight took me across diverse terrains, seamlessly transcending borders and delving into varying cultures. Throughout this voyage, I encountered myriad peoples, each speaking their distinct tongues. Some of their languages echoed familiarity, while others were foreign to my ears. I made attempts to greet those I met, but their responses were limited to warm smiles and acknowledging nods. It dawned upon me that, perhaps, my words were as enigmatic to them as theirs were to me.

In the 1990s, the definition of the East Africa region was considerably narrower than it is today. Back then, it encompassed just Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania, as depicted on contemporary maps. Contrasting with the current understanding that includes 13 countries in the East Africa region, in those days, when Rwandans spoke of heading eastward, they typically implied journeying to Kenya.

Upon arriving in a previously unfamiliar place, I was greeted by a picturesque town bathed in sunlight. Nestled within a vast valley, this city was framed by awe-inspiring skyscrapers, the likes of which I had never encountered before. Dotting the valley floor were verdant gardens, interspersed with tranquil lakes and bubbling springs.

The valley was alive with a diverse tapestry of people, each speaking their unique languages, yet united in their purpose: to worship God in their native tongues. Women were draped in pristine white garments, children joyously blew trumpets, and a medley of songs, both familiar and foreign to my ears, filled the air. This spirited gathering reminded me of an “Igiterane,” a term in Kinyarwanda referring to a Christian Revival Crusade. The singers’ harmonious melodies stirred memories of tunes I had heard in the past. Yet, despite the sea of faces, none seemed familiar. Drawn towards a vantage point, I navigated through the crowd and settled atop a slope beneath towering buildings that swayed gently, resembling towering trees. From this position, I had an unobstructed view of massive choirs from various regions, each taking turns to serenade the city. Their collective voices resonated, creating an ethereal atmosphere throughout the valley. It was an experience of unparalleled beauty.

Perched atop the slope, I found myself immersed in reflections about this unfamiliar land. It was teeming with diverse individuals, their languages reminiscent of the myriad tongues I once heard at a Pentecostal crusade. When I mustered the courage to converse with those around me, I found my voice betrayed me, my tongue clinging to the roof of my mouth. Nonetheless, I smiled and joined them in their worship. United by faith, I felt embraced by the mosaic of cultures, languages, and sheer freedom that surrounded me. Their faces radiated joy, seemingly pleased by my presence. Soon, the crowd began singing a song that tugged at my heartstrings – “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” I found my voice and sang along, belting out the familiar lyrics in my native language. And in that harmonious moment, it became evident that language was no barrier; the sole intent was heartfelt worship.

Amid the joyous crowd, choral harmonies permeated the atmosphere, resonating through the sunlight-bathed city. Overwhelmed by the spiritual ambiance, I raised my arms and sang passionately, expressing gratitude to the Almighty God for sparing me from General Paul Kagame’s onslaught. The fervent worship continued, and as I admired the panoramic valley, I felt myself drifting into a meditative trance. However, the sound of receding footsteps snapped me back to the present. The enigmatic figure from my vision was retreating, his mission concerning me complete. As his presence dwindled, there was a stark transition—I felt my soul meld back into my physical form. When I finally opened my eyes, a bitter realization dawned: I remained imprisoned in the torture chamber. My reawakening was accompanied by a deep, resuscitating breath, akin to someone revived from the brink. Taking in my surroundings with weary eyes, I attempted to decipher my predicament. Though it had all been a dream, its depth, filled with mystique, promises, and rejuvenated hopes, distinguished it from any I’d experienced before. Despite my debilitating weakness, a newfound conviction and assurance blossomed within me.

Awakening from the dream, I grappled with understanding the reality around me. “Was that a mere dream, or had it truly happened?” I questioned internally. The confines of the torture chamber told me it couldn’t have been real. Yet, during that dream—or vision, whatever it might have been—I was reassured that both my colleague Jonas and I would weather the enemy’s onslaught. I eagerly awaited dawn, hoping to recount my experience to Jonas. But amidst the whirlwind of thoughts, a gentle tap on my shoulder and a whisper interrupted my contemplation. “William, it’s Jonas. Wake up; I have something important to tell you.” Jonas, along with Schadrack, Gilbert, and I, had been fervent prayer partners. Together, we had initiated a Bible Fellowship group within the confines of this grim torture chamber. Now, with night still casting its shadow and the clock hinting at 3am, Jonas claimed to bear a message for me. The mysteries of that night seemed to deepen.

This image from Human Rights Watch graphically portrays the harrowing conditions faced by Hutu torture victims at the hands of Rwandan Tutsi soldiers within torture chambers. The depiction underscores the extreme cruelty and inhumane treatment these victims endure. Tragically, many young Rwandans have perished due to such brutalities by the Tutsi military personnel.

This image from Human Rights Watch provides a harrowing glimpse into the brutalities faced by Rwandan detainees under the Tutsi security system. The documented methods of torture include beatings, forced disappearances, exposure to temperature extremes, starvation, sensory deprivation, waterboarding, mock executions, and other severe physical and psychological abuses.

Now, I found myself hanging onto every word Jonas said, wondering about the significance of this midnight revelation. “William,” he began with an earnest tone, “I’ve had a profound dream. As I journeyed home around 7pm, the encroaching darkness obscured a figure standing in my path. This shadowy presence, resembling a towering human silhouette, paused in front of me. The message was clear: it wanted me to tell you that our liberation from this chamber is imminent.” As he spoke, memories of my recent dream cascaded back. I, too, had received a promise of our impending freedom. Sharing my vision with Jonas, we both stood awestruck by the parallels in our experiences. We resolved to wait for the first light of day to pore over Psalm 91, the chapter highlighted in my vision, in search of clarity and understanding from its verses.

As dawn broke, Jonas and I sought out a spot near the small aperture that ushered in precious rays of light, allowing us enough illumination to read Psalm 91. Delving into its verses, we discerned it was brimming with divine promises. It dawned on us that perhaps God was conveying a profound message. The scripture invigorated our dwindling hope and fortified our trust in divine deliverance. Yet, when juxtaposed with our dire circumstances and our frail physical conditions, our renewed hope wavered. The looming shadow of the torture chamber convinced us of the grim reality: we might not make it out alive.

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DR. WILLIAM

Orcinteger faucibus odio cursus facilisi sitenim egestas ele imperdiet etiam situ eltrices vestibulum sit. Orcinteger faucibus odio cursus facilisi sitenim.

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM

Fleeing To The East

FLEEING RWANDA AGAIN TOWARDS THE EAST

Fleeing to the East

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DR. WILLIAM

DR. WILLIAM A. TWAYIGIZE

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