A Legacy of Love

My Mother

Growing up amidst the unique dynamics of a polygamous family, where stepsiblings formed a diverse and bustling household, my mother emerged as the unwavering pillar of my life. As my father’s demanding work schedule often kept him away, she became my constant source of guidance and love. Amidst the vibrant community setting that surrounded me, comprising of numerous siblings, cousins, uncles, and friendly neighbors, my life intertwined with at least 200 individuals each day, each one leaving an indelible mark on my growth and development. Despite this bustling social tapestry, my evenings were reserved for the most cherished moments, as I would seek refuge in the tender embrace of my mother.

Every evening, the soothing ritual of family bible study sessions, lovingly organized by my mother, would envelop our home, filling it with warmth and spiritual growth. Gathered together, we delved into the sacred scriptures, sang hymns of praise, and offered heartfelt prayers. As the firstborn, I embraced the honor of reading the Bible aloud, an early step on my journey towards becoming a spiritual leader for my siblings. These precious moments of study gifted me with profound insights into the divine, the beauty of creation, the power of prayers, and the essence of true worship. Among the many prayers my mother fervently offered, one sentiment remained etched in my heart – her plea for God to plant trees of blessings along the highway of life for her children. Remarkably, this heartfelt petition found fulfillment in my own life, a testament to the power of faith and the boundless love of a devoted mother.

In addition to being an incredibly dedicated mother, my mom also skillfully managed a thriving community shop business, and to my delight, I had the privilege of assisting her regularly. It proved to be an extraordinary learning experience that came with a delightful perk – the chance to enjoy two candies! As per her wise instructions, one candy was to be savored when opening the shop, and the other when closing it. Little did I know that these seemingly innocent candy moments were nurturing valuable financial acumen and leadership skills within me from a tender age. By the time I was merely seven years old, I had already mastered the art of reading, writing, shop management, conducting transactions, and adeptly interacting with customers, confidently providing change and maintaining precise accounts. Every opportunity to be a part of this bustling shop environment filled me with excitement, particularly the simple joy of relishing two candies in a day.

My mother’s indomitable spirit, rooted in four unwavering core principles, earned her widespread recognition and admiration throughout our community. Firstly, her devout commitment to Christianity radiated through her kind-hearted nature, and she never hesitated to prioritize attending church, even if it meant temporarily closing her shop. Secondly, her reputation for unyielding integrity made her the trusted confidante for resolving family and community issues, as she unwaveringly stood for justice. Thirdly, she emerged as a passionate advocate for girls’ education, transcending financial barriers and tirelessly championing various development projects within our community. Fourthly, in the 1980s, her vision and determination led to the establishment of a groundbreaking nutrition learning center in our community, where she fervently lobbied the government to utilize locally available harvests to enhance the dietary wellbeing of women and safeguard their children from malnutrition’s cruel grasp. Her tireless selflessness to support others and transform communities remain an enduring source of inspiration in my life and my faith.

One enduring lesson that my mother instilled in me about faith and integrity was her unwavering commitment to putting God before anything else in all her endeavors. As a young boy growing up, I vividly recall her sending me to the pastors to invite them to come and partition our land just before the harvest season. Her instructions to the pastors were clear: choose the portion of the farm where the harvest was most abundant and dedicate it to God as the first fruit of her labor for that year. At that age, I may not have fully comprehended the reasons behind this practice, but I understood that my mother wanted to share the fruits of her labor with her Creator, expressing her profound gratitude for the year’s bountiful harvest.

However, one day, my mother’s unwavering faith was put to the test. As was our customary practice, after the pastors had partitioned the land, we diligently prepared for the upcoming harvest, eager to reap the rewards of our hard work. To our collective astonishment, when we arrived at our farm with the harvesters, we were greeted by a disheartening sight of devastation. The previous night, strong winds from the neighboring forest had uprooted numerous ancient indigenous trees known as “Umuvumu,” and they had fallen onto our farm, causing widespread destruction and ruining significant portions of our ready-to-harvest crops.

The sight was both distressing and overwhelming, leaving us in a state of shock. However, amidst this scene of destruction, there was a remarkable and awe-inspiring sight: the portion of the farm that the pastors had set aside as a dedicated offering to God, representing the first fruit of my mother’s harvest, remained completely untouched. It was a stark contrast to the surrounding devastation, leaving us both amazed and humbled by the events that had unfolded.

However, in the midst of our astonishment, a group of harvesters, who did not share my mother’s unwavering faith, began to advocate for an alternative course of action. They argued that since it appeared God had not protected the rest of the farm, it might be prudent for my mother to reconsider her decision and permit them to salvage the remaining crops. Furthermore, they suggested that we combine the untouched portion designated for God with the rest of the yield, rationalizing that if God couldn’t safeguard the entire farm, perhaps my mother should delay setting aside a first fruit offering until the next harvest.

Their rationale, which even seemed reasonable to my young and naive mind, revolved around the idea of maximizing profits in response to what they perceived as God’s failure to protect the entire crop. This unexpected challenge to my mother’s faith presented us with a profound moral dilemma, one that would ultimately test the depth of her commitment to her faith in God and her unwavering principles. I found myself aligning with this group’s viewpoint, thinking it made practical sense. After all, God had not safeguarded the rest of our farm, and my mother had already dedicated a portion to Him a week earlier. However, my mother’s reaction was swift and stern. She responded with unwavering faith and determination. “Do you think our God is a mockery? Our God does not change boundaries; we humans do. It was not God who felled these trees on our farm; rather, it was the work of the devil, who sought to undermine my unwavering faith and obedience to God by causing this destruction. Our God has remained faithful throughout the years, and you have never questioned His faithfulness until now,” she asserted firmly. Upon hearing her resolute words and witnessing her unwavering faith, we all fell silent and allowed her to lead the way.

With her guidance, we embarked on the task at hand, cutting down the fallen trees and salvaging what remained of the crops. Another team was assigned to harvest the portion designated for the church, ensuring that there was no mixing of the produce in the process. This remarkable display of faith and integrity left an indelible mark on me, serving as a powerful reminder of my mother’s unwavering commitment to God, even in the face of adversity. Her resolute stand that day became a strong testimony to those who were present. Many of the onlookers, who practiced the African Traditional Religion of our ancestors, had initially attributed the event to the anger of our departed ancestors towards my mother’s Protestant faith. However, as they witnessed her unwavering faith in action, some began to inquire more about her beliefs. Those of us who shared her Protestant faith started singing one of the popular hymns of our region at the time, “Count Your Blessings,” with its opening stanza that goes, “When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed, When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost, Count your many blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.” Before we could finish the first stanza, the rest of the harvesters had joined in the singing, creating a harmonious atmosphere that made our day of harvesting both enjoyable and spiritually rewarding.

Navigating the religious dynamics within my family was a complex journey filled with unique challenges. On my father’s side, he had embraced Catholicism, a faith he had chosen when he aspired to become a Catholic priest in his youth. This Catholicism was practiced within our polygamous household, particularly by my stepmothers, whom I referred to simply as my “mothers” in line with our cultural norms. Their children, my siblings, shared this Catholic faith, creating a cohesive religious atmosphere within that part of the family. However, my mother’s family, in stark contrast, was devoutly Protestant. This contrast extended even further to my uncles and cousins, whom we referred to as brothers and sisters due to the absence of distinct terms for cousins and uncles in our culture. They primarily adhered to African Traditional Religion (ATR), rooted in the belief in the guidance of departed ancestors and the Ubuntu philosophy that emphasized being a brother’s keeper.

This religious diversity often presented social challenges within our clan, as some members used our distinct beliefs as a basis for discrimination. They couldn’t comprehend our unique Protestant faith, which included reading the Bible, and labeled us as “babandi” or outsiders. Despite this discrimination, the contrast in religious beliefs forged a resilient bond within my mother’s nuclear family. It became the unifying factor that held us together, shaping a distinct identity as Protestants within our village. This unity extended beyond our immediate family, as more families from our community began to join us on our way to church. By the time the 1990s brought the ravages of war, my mother’s family had grown from attending church alone to a congregation of several families, leading to the establishment of a new church branch closer to our community. This development spared us the long and challenging journey we had once undertaken to attend church services.

My mother’s boundless generosity was a beacon of light in our lives. Her unwavering commitment to assisting others, regardless of the time or circumstance, left an indelible mark on my heart. Her profound belief that we are meant to be a blessing to those around us resonated deeply with me. Our home became a haven for kids from less privileged families and orphans who found solace under my mother’s caring wings. She went above and beyond, paying school fees and providing uniforms for children whose parents lacked the necessary resources or support. Witnessing her acts of kindness, I became her trusted conduit, humbled to deliver food or money to those she selflessly helped. These experiences instilled in me the core values of selflessness and an unwavering desire to uplift others. They served as the cornerstone at early age for my aspirations to establish a scholarship charity program, offering educational opportunities to bright young minds from underprivileged communities, a tribute to the legacy of compassion and generosity my mother instilled in me.

This a tea factory located near Rwankeri in northern Rwanda, which serves as a symbol of the country’s agricultural heritage. The factory’s establishment in the 1970s resulted from collaboration between the Rwandan government and Libya, as part of the SODEPARAL program aimed at enhancing agricultural production and economic development in Rwanda. Unfortunately, the paragraph also highlights the tragic turn of events in the region over the years. Despite early hopes for economic progress, the area eventually became marked by graveyards, particularly in 1997 during the Songamana operations led by General Kayumba Nyamwasa. This military campaign resulted in the loss of numerous lives, including my mother’s five brothers, her parents, and countless nieces and nephews, underscoring the complex history and challenges faced by this part of Rwanda.

Becoming a refugee at a tender age, my life became a tumultuous journey, constantly on the move from one country to another, seeking safety in East and Central African regions. In the face of unspeakable horrors such as death, torture, starvation, and relentless threats, my mother’s invaluable teachings and Bible lessons from my childhood became my lifeline amidst the darkness that surrounded me. Her heartfelt prayers, seeking God to pave the highway of my life with trees of blessings, were miraculously answered during those dire circumstances. God’s angels, manifested in kind-hearted individuals, provided for my needs at every crucial moment. In the darkest of times, I discovered solace and hope, knowing that my mother’s benevolence was being rewarded through the unwavering support of these good Samaritans and newfound friends. Their selfless assistance not only kept me afloat but also solidified my faith in the transformative power of giving and how it can profoundly impact someone’s life. With the guidance and help of these compassionate souls, I found the strength to rise and build a new life.

My mother has been the unwavering beacon of light in my life, a woman of immense strength who has endured unimaginable loss and suffering. The tragic massacre of her loved ones, ranging from her husband and children to her nieces, nephews, brothers, parents, friends, relatives, and neighbors, including her cherished baby brother Bazirake Samuel, who was tragically taken from the church altar while preaching in Bigogwe, northern Rwanda. His body was only discovered later in caves in the Gisenyi region, thanks to Agence Presse. Despite facing profound hardships, my mother’s unyielding faith in God never faltered, serving as a constant anchor for me, guiding me with her profound wisdom, unwavering faith, and boundless generosity. Her extraordinary influence has shaped my character, instilling in me enduring values that propel me to be a catalyst for positive change in the lives of others.

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM

A Legacy of Love

My Mother

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DR. WILLIAM

DR. WILLIAM A. TWAYIGIZE

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