My Last Football Match

My Last Football Game

On Tuesday, January 22, 1991, our primary school football team reached the highly anticipated semi-final round, with just four teams remaining in contention: our own primary school, Nyange Primary School, Kampanga Primary School, and Kagano Primary School. The excitement was palpable, as everyone was well aware that the winners of this stage would earn their spot in the final championship match, slated for the upcoming Saturday, January 26, 1991. The entire community was buzzing with anticipation, and the enthusiasm was evident as people from our neighborhoods brought along vuvuzelas, tambourines, and blaring horns, while cheerleaders from across the district added to the festive atmosphere.

Our primary school team faced off against the formidable Nyange Primary School Football Team in a regional inter-schools tournament cup clash, originally scheduled for Wednesday, January 23, 1991, but rescheduled to Tuesday due to the bustling Akinyanda open market day, which traditionally took place on Wednesdays. The rescheduling was a strategic move to ensure a maximum turnout as our match was one of the most eagerly anticipated events in the district. Simultaneously, Kampanga Primary School Football Team awaited a match against Kagano Primary School on the following Thursday to determine the other finalist who would face the victor between our team and Nyange Primary School.

On January 22, 1991, a pivotal moment unfolded at Nyange Primary School as our school’s football team faced off against Nyange School’s team at the Akinyanda open market. In a closely contested match, our team triumphed with a 1-0 score, earning a spot in the finals against the winner of the game between Kampanga Primary School and Kagano Primary School, which was scheduled for January 26, 1991. However, on this very same day, as our football match was taking place to determine the finalist, Tutsi rebels were advancing in the Virunga National Park, casting a shadow of impending danger over our villages and Ruhengeri City. This ominous threat materialized in the early morning of January 23, 1991, when the Tutsi rebels launched an attack on Ruhengeri, resulting in the tragic loss of thousands of civilian lives. This event marked the beginning of years of displacement and life as refugees for our community.

Curiously, the boys in my primary school held a particular fascination for Nyange Primary School, largely due to its reputation for having the most beautiful girls in the region. I often found myself daydreaming that, when I grew up, I might marry a lady from the Nyange Primary School vicinity, drawn not only to their physical beauty but also their character and religious values. Nyange girls were known for their impeccable cleanliness, and every Friday evening, they diligently cleaned their famous walkways, adorned with a variety of flowers, creating a splendid and inviting atmosphere for evening strolls. These walkways and their cleanliness served as a symbol of Kinigi Commune’s identity and households with young, unmarried girls. If you were an eligible bachelor seeking to identify households with eligible young ladies ready for suitors, a Friday evening walk in their neighborhood was all you needed. As a result, Nyange Primary School also boasted the best cheerleaders, thanks to their wider pool of beauty pageant contestants. It was no secret that Kinigi Commune was renowned for having the most beautiful women in Ruhengeri Province, closely followed by Nkuli Commune.

This pivotal football match unfolded against the backdrop of the majestic volcanic mountains of Muhabura, Gahinga, and Sabyinyo, nestled in the heart of the Kinigi Commune, near the renowned Musanze Caves. On that memorable day, nature bestowed upon us a splendid gift – clear skies and gentle sunlight, characteristic of the January season when maize and beans were ripe for harvest. In our agrarian community, where the fertile land abundantly provided, worries about food, school fees, and societal concerns temporarily faded into the background. The year’s bountiful crops filled our hearts with a profound sense of peace, happiness, and joy. Despite the lingering memory of the Tutsi rebels from Uganda who had invaded Rwanda in the Kagitumba region five months prior, the people of Ruhengeri didn’t perceive the distant conflict as an immediate threat, given that it was unfolding far away in Eastern Rwanda. Furthermore, our restored sense of security emanated from the Rwandan troops’ success in defeating the rebels and forcing their retreat back to Uganda, from where they had launched their attack. This prevailing atmosphere of tranquility, prosperity, and communal unity allowed our predominantly farming community members to come together and witness our football match, passionately supporting their favorite teams. Parents eagerly attended to cheer for their children’s primary school teams, infusing the occasion with an electrifying spirit of togetherness.

On that memorable day, the role of referee belonged to none other than Desire Ndatinya, the esteemed director of the Kinigi School District. Despite his lofty title, Desire harbored a deep love for sports, which led him to officiate our crucial match between my primary school and Nyange Primary School. His presence added an extra layer of significance to the event. As the clock inched towards 2:45 pm, both teams assumed their positions, and there I stood, guarding the goal, a position I had come to know well, especially against formidable opponents like Nyange. The atmosphere crackled with electricity as exuberant fans and spirited cheerleaders ignited the crowd. Vuvuzelas blared deafeningly, and dancers pounded the ground with unrestrained fervor. The palpable anticipation hung in the air, and as the goalkeeper, I couldn’t help but be consumed by nerves, questioning whether I would meet the expectations of my teammates and, more importantly, our devoted fans. These spectators hailed from various schools that hadn’t secured a place in the finals, and their hopes and dreams rested heavily on my shoulders. As the team captain and goalkeeper, I had played a pivotal role in guiding us to the semi-finals, and the weight of responsibility pressed down on me, leaving no room for error.

Our ultimate goal was not just to reach the finals but to emerge victorious against Kampanga Primary School, a formidable team in the region, known for its consistent success in inter-school tournaments, thanks to generous sponsorship from Canadian communities and the beloved Father Guy Pinard, born in Trois-Rivières, Quebec, who had dedicated over half a century to serving the Kampanga Catholic Parish and was dearly cherished by the community. Despite the formidable opponent and the distraction tactics employed by the Nyange team’s strategically placed cheerleaders behind me, I was unyielding as a stone, focused as a buffalo, and agile as a monkey. Our eyes were locked on the coveted trophy, and we were determined to claim it.

When the Nyange Football team cheerleaders took their positions behind me, a mix of emotions washed over me—both fear and happiness. My heart was elated because among those cheerleaders was Leah, my first love, and seeing her there brought a rush of joy. Leah happened to be the younger sister of my best friend and deskmate, Karekezi Samuel, a remarkably bright and talented individual. Much like myself, Samuel had the rare ability to play with both feet, leaving opponents bewildered about whether he was naturally left or right-footed. Regardless of the angle from which the ball came, he had the knack for finding the net. Samuel was one of our top strikers, and his speed on the field was matched only by his quiet, yet brilliantly comedic personality off it.

As the match gained momentum, the atmosphere around us swelled with resounding cheers and spirited singing that emanated from behind me. Occasionally, I couldn’t resist stealing glances, and whether by design or accident, our eyes would inevitably meet. In those moments, Leah would respond with a reassuring smile and a subtle love sign, a wordless assurance that our connection was rooted in the spirit of the game, with no personal animosity. Her fellow cheerleaders were keenly aware of the unspoken bond between us, and whenever I glanced their way while they passionately cheered for their team, they’d exchange knowing glances and share a light-hearted laugh. In unison, they’d sing, “Twad” (my football nickname), “your love for football belongs to the game and the pitch, but your heart belongs to Leah.”

During the Kinigi Commune inter-school district tournament match that unfolded on that fateful day of January 22, 1991, our referee was none other than Mr. Desire Ndatinya, the district director, as captured in the photograph. He stood as a remarkable figure in our community—a great man and a role model for many. His education and dedication to his role were qualities that inspired each one of us, as we aspired to follow in his footsteps and make a meaningful contribution to our society. We looked up to him with admiration, yearning to emulate his path and become role models for the younger generation. However, the dark shadow of the RPF invasion cast a pall over our dreams and aspirations, and an entire generation of people, including potential role models like Mr. Desire Ndatinya, was tragically lost forever.

As the game reached its climactic 90th-minute mark, the scoreboard displayed a nail-biting 0-0 draw. In the semi-finals, there was no other recourse but to resolve the tension through a nerve-wracking penalty shootout. At this pivotal moment, the hopes of both teams and their ardent fans hung in the balance, with the weight of expectation squarely on the shoulders of two individuals – the goalkeepers. Fortune smiled upon us that day as my team executed flawlessly, converting all five penalty kicks, while our opponents from Nyange Primary School Football team faltered on one crucial penalty. This secured our hard-fought victory and earned us a place in the final match scheduled for the upcoming Saturday in January 1991. The final would be contested between the winner of the game between Kampanga Primary School Football Team and Kagano Primary School Football Team.

The celebration that followed our victory was jubilant, and in an unexpected twist, some of Nyange’s fans switched allegiances and joined us in our exuberant revelry, Leah among them. Leah was a vision of beauty, with a captivating smile that had the power to illuminate even the darkest of moments. Her grin, adorned by radiant teeth and a glowing countenance, never failed to momentarily bewilder anyone who beheld it. Her voice, akin to a celestial, angelic melody, possessed the unique ability to bring peace and tranquility to anyone who had the privilege of hearing it. Leah embodied a remarkable blend of qualities – humility, confidence, intelligence, honesty, and loveliness. She carried herself with the grace of a prayerful dove, all the while harboring boundless ambitions. Her selflessness, patience, and unwavering loyalty were traits that deeply resonated with me, ticking every box in my eyes. Our conversations were punctuated by her sweet voice, reminiscent of a choir of Cherubim, a melody that never ceased to captivate me.

I couldn’t help but be entranced by the way she gazed at me with those tender, sweet eyes. Sometimes, when we spoke, she’d grow bashful, playfully doodling on the ground with her foot while gently biting her lower lip. The mere sound of her calling my name sent my heart into a joyous frenzy. Despite our youthful years, this remarkable girl possessed an uncanny ability to make me feel as though I owned the world.

After our team’s joyous victory celebrations, Samuel and Leah convinced me to join them for a sleepover, a fitting extension of our triumphant night. The real driving force behind my acceptance was the unspoken desire to spend more time with Leah, my heart’s first fluttering affection. I relayed the change of plans to my close friends, Doga and Rongin, who enthusiastically embraced the idea. Another friend, Leonard Habyarimana, extended an invitation to Doga and Rongin to spend the night at his home, which was located near Kampanga Catholic Church behind the old Opyrwa Sechoir, known locally as Isashwara, a Pyrethrum drying facility. One of the reasons we all wanted to spend the night in the same region was so that we could meet the next day in the morning and walk to school together, chatting about our victorious experience against Kampanga Primary School.

As the evening’s enchanting embrace deepened, Leah and her closest confidante, Tamari, gracefully approached our little group, gently reminding us that twilight had woven its tapestry in the sky, and it was time to embark on our homeward journey. Amidst the season’s bountiful maize harvest, we strolled through the picturesque fields of Samuel and Leah’s family maize farm, a golden treasure trove ripe for roasting later in the night. In an act of heartfelt generosity, Leah and Tamari shouldered the weight of our school notebooks, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves and the gentle whispers of the evening breeze.

Leah was a tapestry woven with two threads in the fabric of my life; she was not only a dear friend due to her brother Samuel’s unwavering companionship but also the girl who had captured my heart for the very first time. She was the embodiment of my inaugural love story. Whenever the tendrils of affection wrapped around my heart, they elicited a chorus of jubilant emotions. When I gazed into her eyes, my very bones seemed to melt away, leaving me helplessly entranced by the magic of first love. The evening, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, felt like no other as we strolled through the pyrethrum fields, the intoxicating scent of blossoming flowers weaving a fragrant tapestry around us. It was in this idyllic moment that I reached out and plucked a delicate rose, its petals blushing with the hues of romance, and offered it to Leah to savor. In response, she raised her eyes to meet mine, her delicate touch brushing my chin, and with an ardent declaration, whispered, “I beseeched the heavens day and night, entreating that as we grew, our destinies would intertwine, forging an unbreakable bond, and I could linger by your side for all eternity. My prayers mirrored those for my dear brother Samuel and his beloved Tamari, ensuring these memories shall forever grace the sands of time.”

The sight of children playing football in uniforms identical to the ones we wore back in the 1980s when our team faced off against Nyange Primary School is a nostalgic reminder of our own youthful days. During that era, our school football teams lacked the distinctive jerseys that represent schools today. In order to distinguish between the two teams, a unique solution emerged: one team would play shirtless. This makeshift arrangement was a practical way to avoid confusion on the field. The photograph captures this slice of history, where the joy of playing the sport transcended the absence of formal team jerseys. It also serves as a poignant reminder of the simple pleasures and resourcefulness of our youth. Notably, the trophy we competed for held the promise of rewards, including the opportunity to purchase proper jerseys, a prize that added extra significance to the match and fueled our determination on the field.

Upon our arrival at Samuel and Leah’s parents’ home, a warm embrace of hospitality enveloped me. Their residence nestled near the banks of a seasonal river, Rwebeya, adjacent to the Nyange bridge. Greetings flowed naturally, a customary inquiry into the well-being of my family members – my mother, father, siblings, and all those residing under our roof. In the tapestry of African tradition, these inquiries served as a foundation for our prayers, ensuring that when we beseeched the divine, we did so with a profound understanding of our loved ones’ needs. Our concerns extended beyond the human realm, encompassing the state of their farms and the welfare of their goats, thus enveloping the entire family’s prosperity. With pleasantries exchanged, the boys embarked on the task of gathering firewood and tending to the fire, a necessary prelude to roasting our freshly harvested maize. In our traditional society, these responsibilities fell to the boys, serving as early lessons in their role of protectors and providers. On the other hand, Leah and Tamari, a culinary duo of great skill, undertook the preparation of Ubushera, a delightful non-alcoholic beverage crafted from fermented sorghum, destined to grace our dinner table for the night. This division of labor, with the boys tending to the fire and the girls ensuring everyone in the household was well-fed, served as an integral part of teaching girls how to care for their families as they grew into adulthood. Our society’s well-defined roles from an early age instilled the understanding that boys were to protect and provide, while girls were to nurture and sustain the family.

As the day gently surrendered to the night, around 8 pm, we divided ourselves into two groups for sleeping arrangements. Samuel’s parents and their younger children retreated to the snug embrace of the old traditional African hut, its warmth and decor reminiscent of regal comfort – a cherished haven for African parents. The charm of these huts lay in their freshness, warmth, and serenity, a sanctuary of tranquility that offered a respite from the hustle and bustle of modern life. Meanwhile, the older children, including Samuel, Leah, Tamari, and myself, found our repose in the modern abode, sheltered beneath a corrugated roof.

Before Leah and Tamari could retire to their own room, and Samuel and I could head to our shared sleeping quarters, we indulged in the sweet harmonies of old hymnal songs. This evening of melodious companionship turned into a memorable night, as our voices blended in harmonious melodies that resonated through the house. However, in keeping with Leah’s tradition, our evening hymnal singing would not be complete without a rendition of one of her cherished hymns, “Love at Home.” With a joyful laugh, she dedicated this song to me, a heartfelt promise that when we grew up, we would build “our love at home.”

After we finished singing and shared that beautiful dedication song from Leah, we gathered for a prayer, seeking God’s guidance and protection as we ventured into the realm of dreams. Once again, I found myself drawn into Leah’s captivating gaze. Lost in thoughts about our future, I couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like when we grew up and I married her as the mother of my children. Leah noticed my contemplative gaze and smiled warmly, bidding me goodnight with the words, “urare aharyana,” a Rwandan expression that translates to “sleep in a place where it itches.” This saying may sound peculiar, but it harks back to our ancestors’ belief that only the deceased remain perfectly still in their slumber. Thus, a slight discomfort during the night might prompt one to turn in bed. After Leah’s gentle wish for a good night’s sleep, I reached out to offer her a hug, and then extended a friendly high-five to her friend Tamari. With these warm exchanges, we retired to our respective bedrooms, each of us hoping and dreaming of the day we would see each other again.

Ndabanyurahe Shopping Center, a village near Samuel’s former home, holds a haunting history. This was once Samuel’s home, a place of safety and community. However, the tranquility was shattered when the RPF Tutsi rebels launched a brutal attack on the village, resulting in the tragic loss of hundreds of lives. The neighborhood around this shopping center became a grim killing ground where the Tutsi rebels targeted many Hutus as they advanced towards Ruhengeri City. Tragically, all those killed here were targeted solely because they were Hutus. Samuel’s home was in close proximity to this shopping center, and in the face of the escalating violence, they sought refuge in nearby maize farms, attempting to hide from the relentless brutality of the Tutsi rebels on that fateful night of January 22, leading into January 23, 1991.

The photograph depicting the RPF Tutsi rebels in the Rugano area of the Gahinga mountain, seemingly taken around January 21, 1991, offers a haunting glimpse into the preparations that would culminate in the devastating attacks on Ruhengeri City. According to Logan Ndahiro, who was unfortunately involved in the attacks on civilians in Kinigi, it was a coordinated operation involving more than five battalions. One battalion was tasked with blocking the road connecting Ruhengeri City and Cyanika, another focused on sealing off the route from Gisenyi to Ruhengeri City, while yet another was assigned to cut off access between Kigali and Ruhengeri City. Additionally, another battalion had the grim responsibility of opening the Ruhengeri Maximum Prison. Meanwhile, a chilling wave of violence swept through Kinigi, as yet another unit carried out the horrific task of eliminating civilians to clear the path for the rebels’ retreat—a series of events that would leave an indelible scar on the region’s history.

The Attack on Ruhengeri City

As I lay in bed, gazing at the enveloping darkness after the petrol lamp had flickered out, my mind embarked on a voyage into a future colored by vivid dreams of a life entwined with Leah. I saw myself as a college student, delving into the realms of biology and chemistry, culminating in a triumphant graduation from medical school. The reverie carried me back to our hometown, where I envisioned proposing to Leah, my heart brimming with the hope of her becoming the mother of our children. Our familial tapestry unfolded before my mind’s eye, woven with love and dreams, and I visualized the house I would build for us. In the fertile landscape of my imagination, our abode was adorned with meandering walkways adorned with vibrant blossoms reminiscent of those in Nyange. This dream home nestled behind a place known as “Economat General” or Ateliers Economat General De Ruhengeri, a Catholic church furniture store nestled in the heart of downtown Ruhengeri, near Évêché de Ruhengeri. The vision of our wedding day materialized, where I whispered words of love to Leah, her brother Samuel, my steadfast confidant, standing proudly by my side as our best man. As slumber embraced me, these enchanting dreams painted my nightscape, each moment feeling like hours of boundless possibilities.

In the midst of these blissful reveries, where my mother’s joyful ululations and my beloved uncle Samuel Bazirake’s presence at our wedding filled my dreams with hope, a sudden, insistent knock on our window thrust me back into reality. At first, I clung to the remnants of slumber, hoping it was a part of my dream, but the relentless tapping, accompanied by the hushed calls for Samuel, shattered that illusion. The ominous hour and the urgency in the voice left no room for doubt; this was no dream but an unsettling reality. My heart raced with fear, conjuring visions of the dreaded witch night runners, notorious in our region. I prayed I wouldn’t fall prey to their malevolent designs. Desperately attempting to control my breath, I battled rising anxiety. Then, as if torn from a nightmare, the tranquility of the night was torn asunder by the abrupt staccato of gunshots. The chilling sound jolted me to full awareness, dispelling any lingering dreamlike notions. As the persistent knocking persisted, it dawned on me that it was Samuel’s father attempting to rouse us. The crescendo of gunfire served as an ominous reminder of imminent danger. Samuel’s father’s whispered urgency penetrated the haze of my drowsiness, “They are here, slaughtering people. Wake up, and let’s go hide before they reach us.”

In the eerie darkness of that fateful night, I fumbled to awaken Samuel, Leah, and Tamari, our world plunged into a sinister silence, save for the distant echoes of violence, as the neighboring village bore witness to an unfolding massacre. It was an unmistakable sign that the Tutsi rebels had infiltrated our community, leaving terror in their wake. As the dogs barked frantically, their cacophonous chorus mirrored the chaos that had descended upon us. The clock’s hands relentlessly ticked away, and the date shifted from January 22nd to the ominous 23rd, nearing 2 am. Our collective slumber was shattered, replaced by a chilling realization that the light of a new day might elude us.

The Tutsi rebels harbored a profound and enduring animosity toward Hutus, a venomous sentiment with roots tracing back to the dissolution of their Tutsi Apartheid-like monarchy in 1959, supplanted by a Hutu-sponsored republic. This deeply entrenched hostility festered as a malignant undercurrent, erupting into full-blown conflict when they launched an audacious invasion of Rwanda from the Ugandan border on October 1, 1990. Their merciless campaigns in the serene expanse of Umutara, nestled in the northeast reaches of Rwanda, etched tales of unspeakable horror and insidious Hutu massacres that resonated across the land. Within the crucible of Umutara, Hutus faced ruthless slaughter solely due to their ethnic identity, epitomized by the gruesome episodes etched into the annals of Matimba and Kagitumba. Now, the specter of these very Tutsi rebels descended upon our tranquil villages, their ominous presence casting a suffocating pall of impending death. As we huddled in fear, our minds inexorably conjured the macabre scenes we had heard recounted and witnessed on the flickering screens of our televisions. This ghastly narrative chronicled the wanton and merciless slaughter of Hutus, while Tutsis were allowed to traverse a divergent path of freedom and survival within the Umutara region. The terrifying dread that had long haunted our thoughts and nightmares had suddenly coalesced into a grim, palpable reality, sending seismic tremors of terror coursing through our very souls.

This poignant photograph captures a somber moment in Kinigi, where Tutsi rebels took respite. These rebels were part of the battalion left behind with the harrowing task of clearing the path and organizing the retreat after the brutal assault on the city of Ruhengeri. Tragically, this very same battalion had ventured into the surrounding villages, perpetrating horrifying massacres of Hutu families, including my then-teacher, Habimana. His residence near Kinigi Commune became a site of unspeakable tragedy as the RPF rebels mercilessly claimed the lives of three members of his family, including himself, on that fateful night of January 23, 1991, leaving a chilling legacy of loss and suffering in their wake.

The harrowing photograph vividly depicts the Tutsi rebels launching a relentless assault on Ruhengeri city, employing heavy artillery such as recoilless artillery. This cataclysmic event marked a day of unspeakable tragedy, as the surprise attack by the RPF Tutsi rebels resulted in the massacre of thousands of innocent civilians in Ruhengeri. Helpless residents of the city found themselves caught in the crossfire of this devastating conflict, bearing witness to a day of profound sorrow and loss as their lives were tragically and abruptly cut short by the violence that engulfed their community.

The incursion of these rebels into our midst cast a looming shadow of despair and dread, an ominous specter that hinted at our impending doom. It was a stark departure from the optimistic dreams of a future with Leah that had earlier waltzed through my thoughts that night, now cruelly supplanted by the grim reality of our neighbors’ lives being extinguished and our own prospects of survival hanging by a thread. With each passing moment, as the onslaught on Ruhengeri escalated into a horrifying reality, Kagame’s rebels continued their pitiless rampage, compelling us to rouse everyone from their fitful slumber and seek refuge amidst the towering maize crops that swayed ominously in the night. In this surreal tableau of terror, silence became our lifeline, a mere sneeze or cough standing as a potential death knell.

The anguished screams of our neighbors, their throats brutally slit, provided an eerie symphony to our night of horrors. Amidst the cacophony of agony was the voice of our affluent neighbor, unmistakable due to his possession of two distinct pickups—one green, the other red. His once-stately houses, adorned in vivid crimson with azure rooftops, had been symbols of prosperity, but now they loomed as haunting silhouettes, witnessing the inexorable descent of death upon our lives. The Tutsi rebels, ruthless in their mission, traversed the compound, callously smashing the heads of victims against unforgiving concrete walls, even sparing not the children. No life found reprieve that fateful night, for the rebels hungered for the wealth that emanated from this home, driven by the belief that this family held a considerable fortune, a potential windfall they coveted to fund their insidious campaign to plunder Ruhengeri city.

The sinister campaign of death and destruction by the RPF in our beleaguered neighborhood concluded, but an oppressive and eerie tension still clung to the night. It persisted in the aftermath of their relentless onslaught, casting a chilling pall over our once-peaceful surroundings. The haunting echo of countless military boots reverberated relentlessly, like an ominous drumbeat, as an unending procession of thousands upon thousands of rebels marched ceaselessly along the banks of the once-tranquil River Rwebeya.

Their grim destination was none other than the heart of Ruhengeri City, the political stronghold of the Habyarimana regime and a place they sought to purge of Hutus, a people they held a deep-seated animosity towards. The Hutus of northern Rwanda, particularly in a place known as Umulera, had always resisted the rule of the Tutsi monarchy, their bravery exemplified by figures like Rukara rwa Bishingwe, a legacy that only fueled the rebels’ fervent hatred

The Tutsi rebels were driven by a chillingly clear and ruthless mission: to exterminate as many Hutus as they could find in Ruhengeri, a place they considered a bastion of Hutu resistance. Their deep-seated animosity towards the local population fueled their relentless campaign of violence.

In addition to this genocidal intent, they aimed to liberate the notorious political prisoners confined within the forbidding walls of the Ruhengeri Maximum Prison. These prisoners served as a grim reminder of past failed coup attempts against President Habyarimana Juvenal’s rule during the 1980s, with some of these coups allegedly involving figures like Colonel Kanyarengwe Alex and Major Theoneste Lizinde. Freeing these prisoners from the clutches of Habyarimana’s regime would be a significant victory for Kagame’s military campaign.

As the relentless sound of military boots marching along the river began to diminish, a glimmer of hope crept into our hearts, and we dared to think that perhaps the worst was behind us. In the midst of this chaos, we all turned our eyes to the heavens, seeking solace and praying to God for mercy, if only for that night. The night sky, although scattered with stars, seemed darker than ever before. However, before we could even consider changing our hiding place, the deafening roar of bombs shattered the fragile peace. These explosions struck perilously close to our concealed refuge, showering us with debris, soil, and the sickening stench of death. One of the explosions had found its deadly mark on one of our neighbors’ thatched house, setting it ablaze. The sight of the raging flames sent a fresh wave of terror through us, for the fire threatened to reveal our hiding place, and in that harrowing moment, our hearts quaked with fear. The peril was far from over, and danger still lurked dangerously close.

Samuel’s parents, along with Samuel, Leah, and her younger siblings, Tamari, and I, collectively decided that it was imperative to vacate our hiding place beneath the papaya trees. We yearned for the safety of the nearby cypress forest, a considerable distance from the now-burning house. Our hope was to await developments and, optimistically, the break of dawn, when we could make our escape from this perilous area. As we cautiously navigated through the maize farms, we moved with the utmost stealth, bending and crawling like infants to avoid detection. In an unnerving moment, a ripe papaya tumbled from a nearby tree, causing our hearts to seize with fear, convinced we had been discovered and were facing imminent death. With bated breath, we froze, anticipating either gunfire or a merciless attack. Mercifully, it was merely a papaya fruit that had fallen, not the hand of our pursuers. We decided to remain motionless in the underbrush, waiting for daybreak. Meanwhile, the relentless barrage of gunfire, shelling, and bombing in Ruhengeri persisted without respite, with each explosion and bullet illuminating the night sky, leaving us with the grim understanding that our survival in this turmoil was increasingly unlikely with each passing moment.

During a pivotal meeting between the then President of Rwanda, Habyarimana Juvenal, and his Ugandan counterpart, President Yoweri Museveni, in the wake of the attacks on Rwanda, a significant revelation came to light. President Museveni expressed to Habyarimana that he was not aware of the Tutsis’ plans to invade Rwanda. The rebels, primarily composed of Rwandan refugees who had served in the Ugandan army, were under the leadership of Major-General Fred Rwigyema, a former deputy commander of Uganda’s National Resistance Army (NRA) and a deputy defense minister. The Tutsis monarchy and its members were expelled from power by the majority Hutu in 1959. However, President Museveni’s claim that he was unaware of his Tutsi soldiers’ desertion was met with skepticism. The scale and speed of the desertions and subsequent attacks had taken Uganda by surprise, as revealed during the meeting in New York, where both leaders were attending the United Nations summit on children.

In this photo, the Rwandan armed forces, comprised of Hutu soldiers, can be seen patrolling the city of Ruhengeri. This patrol occurred after the intense fighting that had raged throughout the day, ultimately pushing back the RPF Tutsi rebels into Uganda. The battle for Ruhengeri had been fierce, resulting in the liberation of thousands of prisoners, some of whom chose to join the ranks of the RPF as they retreated to Uganda. The streets of Ruhengeri bore witness to the aftermath of this conflict, with the Hutu soldiers maintaining a vigilant presence to restore order and secure the city.

The Sound of Katyusha

With the break of dawn, the epicenter of the conflict shifted dramatically, moving from our Kinigi villages—turned into overnight mass graves by the Tutsi rebels—to the very heart of Ruhengeri town. Above us, what was once a serene dark sky transformed into a nightmarish battlefield, where bullets and bombs painted fiery streaks across the heavens. The Ruhengeri sky morphed into an ominous canvas, an eerie symbol of death’s dominion, and a surreal theater of war and human carnage. The RPF rebels, driven by unwavering determination, unleashed their heavy artillery, strategically positioning these formidable weapons in Kinigi Commune, Kagano Sector, and Kanyamiheto village. Among these lethal instruments, a menacing presence stood out—the “Katyusha” rocket launcher. This artillery piece was capable of launching an astonishing 12 to 24 rockets simultaneously, a weapon of mass destruction that left nothing in its path unscathed. As we later discovered, this fearsome weapon had its origins in Soviet design and had seen action during World War II. What made it even more terrifying was its unprecedented use in Rwanda and its surroundings, leading to the ominous local moniker, “Kadahusha Abahutu,” signifying that it never missed its target when it came to killing Hutu people.

The Katyusha rockets possessed a formidable range of 5,500 meters (3.4 miles), allowing them to completely straddle and obliterate their targets with devastating precision. This lethal artillery’s proximity to the Uganda-Rwanda border, with Ugandan troops strategically positioning it within the Virunga forest, made it a terrifyingly efficient weapon against the people of Ruhengeri. These rockets were operated from a location known as Nyagahinga. With the capacity to launch between 12 and 24 rockets simultaneously, the earth-shaking, thunderous roar of these missiles sent shivers of dread down our spines. This fear-induced distress led to acute diarrhea for some in our neighborhood, while others found themselves uncontrollably urinating. Whenever these dreaded rockets were launched from Virunga National Park in Gahinga, Samuel’s father would desperately seek refuge in the nearby bushes, driven solely by sheer terror. Overhead, we watched helplessly as the rockets streaked across the sky, their fiery trajectories homing in on Ruhengeri town, while others targeted our neighborhood and various government institutions, unleashing an unrelenting storm of destruction. It felt like Armageddon, and the fear of death was etched onto every face.

As the morning light broke, our world was shrouded in thick mist, severely limiting our visibility to a mere hundred meters ahead. We found ourselves among the vast multitude of people embarking on a desperate flight, driven by the merciless massacre inflicted by the RPF Tutsi rebels. Among this throng of refugees, a hauntingly similar narrative unfolded—a night marred by bloodshed and the heart-wrenching loss of beloved family members and friends. These individuals were predominantly Hutus, originating from a myriad of places including Kagano, Nkumba, Cyanika, Gashangiro, Nyabitsinde, Kampanga, Gasiza, Rugarama, Kidaho, Gahunga, Kagano, Butete, Kigombe, Kinigi, Butete, and Cyuve. Simultaneously, the Tutsis who had been living in these very neighborhoods had already been identified by RPF cadres. These cadres discreetly signaled the RPF Tutsi rebels to come for them and arrange their transport to Uganda. Many of the young Tutsi rebels leading the RPF attacks on Ruhengeri hailed from Ruhengeri and Gisenyi originally. They had joined the ranks of the RPF in Uganda during the late 1980s and between October 1990 and 1991. Consequently, when the RPF rebels initiated their attack that fateful night, they had already dispatched their own members to retrieve the Tutsi families their sons had left behind when they joined the RPF in Uganda. The rest of the people fleeing that morning consisted of Hutus from Kinigi, Nkumba, and Kidaho communes, all of whom were making their arduous journey westward, seeking refuge in Mukingo and Nkuli communes.

As the day gradually unfolded and the mist lifted, we bore witness to grim and heart-wrenching scenes along the road that stretched from Ruhengeri town to Kinigi commune. These haunting sights included the lifeless bodies of individuals who had fallen victim to the Tutsi attacks as they desperately attempted to escape under the cover of the night. We also encountered the charred remnants of cars that had likely been ensnared in the chaos, perhaps on their way back from the late-night Ruhengeri market. These bodies had been burnt beyond recognition, but some were identifiable by the shoes they wore—a tragic testament to the people we had known. They were not strangers but familiar faces, individuals whose names we could recall, and whose children had been our classmates.

Continuing our journey, as we approached Nyange primary school, we stumbled upon the charred wreckage of one of Samuel’s neighbor’s pickups—a person who had endured a night of sheer terror. Two individuals had been cruelly bound, their hands secured behind their backs, left to meet a gruesome end as their vehicle was consumed by flames. In the nearby sorghum fields, we came across the horrifying aftermath of families brutally hacked to death using a tool known as “Agafuni,” which was a hammer that the Tutsi rebels employed to shatter their victims’ skulls. This brutal Agafuni method of killing had become infamous and was synonymous with the signature brutality of Kagame’s rebels. The relentless onslaughts by the RPF Tutsi rebels in our community were unmistakable, and death loomed ominously in our surroundings.

In this photo, we witness the Rwandan Armed Forces strategically positioning themselves in the vicinity of Ruhengeri city as they prepared to engage in combat with the Tutsi rebels who had seized control of the city on January 23, 1991. The battle to reclaim Ruhengeri city was a day-long endeavor, marked by intense clashes and a relentless effort to expel the last remaining Tutsi rebel holdouts. Tragically, this conflict exacted a heavy toll on the civilian population, with thousands falling victim to the violence perpetrated by the retreating RPF Tutsi rebels as they withdrew from Ruhengeri city. The scenes of that fateful day serve as a haunting reminder of the human cost of the conflict that engulfed the region.

These were the RPF Tutsi soldiers who were stationed in Ghainga, making preparations for their impending invasion of the city of Ruhengeri. The majority of those who participated in the invasion of Ruhengeri were Tutsi rebels, many of whom originated from the northern Rwandan regions of Gisenyi and Ruhengeri. Some of these rebels had extensive knowledge of the region, having been educated and worked in Ruhengeri. As a result, they were familiar with the local population, which played a significant role in their operations. For instance, when one group, intent on harming Kayitani’s family, carried out their attack, their familiarity with the area and its residents greatly influenced their actions.

After crossing the Susa River, Samuel, his family, and I arrived at my home around 9 am. My mother greeted us, visibly distressed because two of my friends, Doga and Rongin, had arrived earlier and told her I hadn’t spent the night at their place. Instead, I had gone to Samuel’s home after the match, unknowingly placing myself near the initial targets of the RPF invasion in Ruhengeri. The news had left my mother anxious, and the wider region had become aware of the Tutsi attacks on Kinigi, Ruhengeri town, and Nkumba, intensifying her worries. In those days, communication relied solely on word of mouth. When we reached our house, we found it filled with thousands of people, families, and children, seeking refuge.

My mother allocated two rooms to Samuel’s family, while Samuel and I shared my bedroom. Our house, which had about ten rooms in total, including a kitchen with six rooms, had received more than 200 refugees who had fled from Gashangiro, Gasiza, and Cyanika as well. Little did we know, a new chapter in our lives had begun, one that would forever change our generation.

Around 1 pm, news began to reach us that the Tutsi rebels had successfully liberated several prominent political prisoners, including Colonel Lizinde Theoneste and Captain Biseruka, both of whom were arch-enemies of Rwanda’s President Habyarimana at that time. On April 23, 1980, Major Theoneste Lizinde, the former chief of Rwandan intelligence, and Captain Biseruka, both from northern Rwanda, along with their colleagues, had been arrested on charges of plotting to overthrow Habyarimana. Notably, Colonel Lizinde had played a pivotal role in helping Habyarimana stage a coup in 1973 that ended Gregoire Kayibanda’s rule. This time, Lizinde and thirty others were imprisoned in the Ruhengeri Maximum Prison until January 23, 1991, when they were freed by the Tutsi rebels—a significant political achievement for the Tutsi RPF. The attacks on Ruhengeri dealt a severe blow to Habyarimana’s regime and exposed vulnerabilities within his security apparatus.

The fighting in the city of Ruhengeri raged on throughout the entire morning, forcing thousands more people to seek refuge in our shopping center, and it continued into the afternoon. It wasn’t until around 2 pm that the last remnants of the RPF were finally driven out of Rwandan borders by Habyarimana’s paracommandos from Mukamira Military Camp and the commandoes from Bigogwe Military Camp. However, the human cost of this battle was staggering. The Tutsis had ruthlessly massacred thousands of Hutu families in Ruhengeri town and its surrounding areas. The evidence of this brutal carnage was undeniable, with streets in Ruhengeri littered with lifeless bodies. These killings included targeted attacks where RPF Tutsis entered the homes of families they knew and executed everyone they found. As the daunting task of cleaning up Ruhengeri town commenced, hundreds of thousands of innocent civilian bodies had piled up in various locations, such as Yaounde, Muhoza, Nyamagumba, Ndabanyurahe, and especially in downtown Ruhengeri near the prison, where the fiercest fighting had taken place.

ESSA Ruhengeri, a school primarily dedicated to training medical nurses and also serving as a girls’ secondary school specializing in science and social science education, faced a harrowing assault by Tutsi rebels on January 23, 1991, in Ruhengeri town, Rwanda, located behind Ruhengeri hospital. The consequences were deeply tragic, resulting in the loss of numerous students’ lives that night. Among the heartbreaking stories, two girls from my home village endured unimaginable horrors, falling victim to gang rape before meeting their untimely demise. ESSA Ruhengeri, with a student body exceeding 750 members, bore the scars of this devastating event, an enduring memory that continues to haunt survivors. It stands as a grim symbol of the broader conflict and the immense human toll it exacted on the nation. It’s important to note that the stories of these women, who endured such harrowing experiences, were unfortunately overlooked by Western media, which often sought to present a singular narrative of the events in Rwanda since October 1990.

The Kayitani’s Family Tragedy

One of the stories of the RPF Tutsi rebels’ killings in Ruhengeri that will forever haunt my memory is that of Kayitani’s family. Kayitani (Gaetan) and his wife Zitoni were close family friends, and Yisaka (Isaac), Kayitani’s brother, was married to Ziporah, my mother’s niece. Yisaka had met his wife during his time as a student at Gatovu Secondary School of Letters (Ecole De Lettre De Gatovu), which neighbored my grandmother’s home in Nkuli commune. Kayitani’s family was known for their happiness, generosity, hospitality, kindness, and strong religious faith. Both Kayitani and his wife were active members of the church choir in Ruhengeri town. I cherished visiting their peaceful home, enjoying their company, and watching various videos, particularly Rambo movies and cartoons. They had three delightful children: a daughter named Ziripah, a son named Jeremy, and a younger sister named Mamou. Tragedy struck on the night of January 22nd leading into the 23rd, 1991 when the Tutsi rebels attacked Ruhengeri City, shattering the joy that once filled their home.

Kayitani (Gaetan) and his young family made their home at the base of Mount Nyamagumba in the heart of Ruhengeri town. Their residence was in close proximity to the infamous Rwandan Maximum Prison, situated along Avenue de Nyakinama, which also led to the Nyakinama University at the time. Kayitani held a position at the Ruhengeri Provincial Administration Offices (Bureau du Préfecture de Ruhengeri), contributing to the local government’s administrative functions, while his wife diligently worked at the Ruhengeri Referral Hospital, providing healthcare services to the community. Their neighborhood was renowned for its high-class amenities, boasting a variety of stores, exclusive clubs, and membership shops. Notably, it featured the prestigious Catholic furniture store known as “Economat Général” and the Bishop’s House (Évêché de Ruhengeri). The Kayitani family resided in the elite district within downtown Ruhengeri city, where an air of sophistication and prosperity prevailed.

In the tranquility of the night, nestled between midnight and the first light of dawn on January 23, 1991, as the Tutsi rebels continued their covert advance, discreetly infiltrating Ruhengeri town, an ominous visitation descended upon the home of the Kayitani family. A group of around six Tutsi rebels, hailing from the 17th battalion that had laid siege to the Ruhengeri prison, arrived at the Kayitani residence, and their persistent knocking shattered the family’s peaceful slumber, sending shivers down their spines. Kayitani, the head of the household, was awakened by the unusual commotion and hurried to the living room, initially thinking it might be an emergency or perhaps his brother Yisaka, who lived nearby, seeking assistance.

This is the Ruhengeri Catholic Archdiocese cathedral, a sacred place of worship with a rich history. During the fateful events of January 23, 1991, when RPF Tutsi rebels launched an attack on Ruhengeri, their intentions extended beyond military objectives. Among their targets was the then Ruhengeri Catholic bishop, Phocas Nikwigize, who had served as the bishop of the Diocese of Ruhengeri since his ordination on November 30, 1968. However, the group of Tutsi rebels assigned with the ominous task of locating and assassinating him faced an unexpected turn of events. Bishop Phocas Nikwigize had not spent that night in Ruhengeri, thus eluding their grasp. The Roman Catholic Diocese of Ruhengeri, established on December 20, 1960, by Pope John XXIII, holds deep significance within the ecclesiastical landscape of Rwanda. Tragically, on November 27, 1996, while traveling to re-enter Rwanda with missionaries, Bishop Phocas Nikwigize was seized by members of the new Tutsi regime in Kigali, under the leadership of General Paul Kagame. This sad chapter culminated in his untimely death on November 30, 1996, on the instructions of Paul Kagame, marking a somber moment in the history of the church and the nation.

This is the Ruhengeri High Court, a significant institution in Ruhengeri’s history. In the tumultuous year of 1991, when the RPT Tutsi rebels launched an attack on the city of Ruhengeri, they passed through this very courthouse, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. At that time, it was known as the Ruhengeri Court of Appeal. It is a somber fact that many dedicated employees who worked within these court walls met a tragic fate during the operations of the Tutsi rebels in Ruhengeri. Reflecting back on my childhood, I remember passing by this remarkable structure when we visited Ruhengeri market. Additionally, as students, we were fortunate enough to have the opportunity to visit this court and witness court proceedings. This initiative aimed to inspire us as young learners, encouraging us to work diligently and aspire to become valuable members of society.

However, as he approached the living room, he heard his name being called in a strangely familiar voice. To his astonishment, the voice belonged to a college classmate, Kanamugire, who had disappeared years ago and was now a member of the Tutsi rebels, leading the group that had come in search of Kayitani. With a deep sense of foreboding, Kayitani reluctantly turned on the lights and cautiously opened the main door, revealing the armed men with their ominous presence and unfamiliar uniforms. They demanded entry with menacing warnings of dire consequences for non-compliance, leaving Kayitani with no choice but to let them in, knowing that his family was now in grave danger.

Amidst the chaotic turmoil that gripped the household, Zubeda, who was just 14 years old at the time and worked as the Kayitani family’s househelp, lay asleep in the servant quarters. The clamor of commotion and the unmistakable sound of military footsteps roused her from her slumber. The relentless knocking and the eerie ambiance of military boots sent a shiver down her spine. With trepidation, she cautiously parted the curtains, guided by the dim glow emanating from the main living room. What she beheld caused her heart to sink—a group of intruders, adorned in unfamiliar military attire, had descended upon the home. Sensing that something gravely sinister was unfolding, Zubeda made a silent exit through the backdoor, seeking refuge amidst a cluster of cypress trees. From her concealed vantage point, she could discreetly observe the unfolding tragedy. Her watchful eyes soon revealed the grim reality: every member of the Kayitani family, including the innocent children and Kayitani’s pregnant wife, Zitoni, had been summoned into the living room, their faces etched with fear and despair. As the Tutsi rebels began their brutal assault on Kayitani, who pleaded desperately for the safety of his expectant wife, Zitoni, the horrifying truth of their predicament became painfully evident.

From her hiding place among the cypress trees, Zubeda bore witness to the nightmarish events that unfolded inside the main house as Kanamugire and his merciless men descended upon Kayitani’s helpless family, who had been herded into the living room. Although the words exchanged were muffled, Zubeda had an unobstructed view of the horrifying tableau playing out within the well-lit living room. The curtains had been neatly folded earlier by Kayitani, who, in his confusion, had gone to investigate the intruders when they first called his name. Zubeda watched in silent horror as Kanamugire, the leader of this grim procession, wielded his AK-47 bayonet like a sinister instrument of torment. The initial brutality was the severing of Kayitani’s ears, a grotesque prelude to the unspeakable suffering that followed. Despite excruciating pain and mutilation, Kayitani’s desperate pleas for mercy persisted, his anguished cries beseeching Kanamugire to spare his family, particularly his beloved pregnant wife, Zitoni, and their innocent children. The room bore witness to an act of cruelty that defied imagination, a grotesque dance of torment that would forever haunt Zubeda’s memory.

As the Tutsi rebels at Kayitani’s house continued to torment his family, they callously shared sips of Mützig beer, their laughter ringing out in stark contrast to the nightmarish brutality unfolding around them. It was a chilling irony that unfolded as they continued to torture the helpless Kayitani family. Kayitani himself knelt on the floor, his hands bound, and half-naked throughout the ordeal. Zitoni and the children had been forcibly herded into the living room, stripped of their clothes, their vulnerability laid bare for all to see. Zitoni’s visibly pregnant belly served as a cruel reminder of their impending doom, though the rebels remained callously indifferent to her condition. The horror of that night reached its zenith when the rebels systematically initiated the execution, beginning with the eldest child, Ziripah, and her two younger siblings, Jeremy and Mamou (which means happiness). Their throats were cruelly slit, the Tutsi rebels laughing callously as Zitoni and Kayitani could do nothing but scream in terror and despair. As lifeless bodies lay in a gruesome pool of blood, a grim realization washed over the parents. Kanamugire and his men, seemingly devoid of humanity, turned their malevolence toward Zitoni, who was heavily pregnant. They ruthlessly sliced open her stomach with a bayonet, subjecting her to unimaginable agony and sealing the grim fate of her unborn child. In an act of unspeakable cruelty, Kayitani watched in abject desperation as his beloved wife and their unborn child fell victim to this most inhumane atrocity. For Zubeda, the 14-year-old witness to this horrific carnage, the trauma inflicted that night would haunt her for a lifetime.

Once the Tutsi rebels had completed their gruesome attack on the Kayitani family, they hastily departed under the command of Kanamugire. He maintained constant communication using a military walkie-talkie, displaying a disturbing satisfaction with his horrific deeds. At that fateful moment, Ruhengeri city was engulfed in chaos, with intense shelling and bombings resonating throughout the region. The night sky over Ruhengeri was ablaze with the deafening cacophony of machine guns, rifles, and AK47s, accompanied by the relentless Katyusha rockets that fell like a hailstorm of bombs, creating a surreal symphony of destruction. The terrified city residents scattered in all directions, desperately seeking refuge, but many tragically fell into the hands of the enemy.

However, before leaving the Kayitani’s compound, Kanamugire left a chilling two-word note in Kinyarwanda on their doorstep, ensuring that his identity as the perpetrator of the Kayitani massacre was unmistakable. The note read, “Kanamugire Yadusuye,” loosely translating to “Kanamugire has just paid us a visit,” bearing damning testimony to his heinous actions and ruthless killing of the Kayitani family. This sinister note would later become the irrefutable evidence of Kanamugire’s involvement in what would come to be known in the region as the infamous “Kanamugire massacre.” This entire horrific scenario unfolded before the eyes of a very young girl, Zubeda, who was just fourteen years old at the time and tragically the sole survivor of Kanamugire’s merciless onslaught.

After the murderers had departed, Zubeda, who had witnessed the entire carnage while concealed amidst the cypress trees, fled the scene in search of help. She sought refuge with Kayitani’s brother, Yisaka, who resided opposite OPYRWA Ruhengeri near Nyamagumba hill. Tragically, with the intense fighting between the Tutsi rebels and the Rwandan soldiers then known as FAR, Yisaka and Zubeda, together with other neighbors, couldn’t get to Kayitani’s on time. When they finally arrived, it was too late to save any member of the Kayitani family.

This is the Ruhengeri Referral Hospital, a venerable institution with a history spanning nearly 80 years. Originally constructed in 1939 during the colonial era, this hospital holds a significant place in the hearts of the people in our region. During my upbringing, this hospital served as the sole referral center for our extensive region, encompassing multiple districts. It’s important to note that reaching this facility was a formidable challenge, particularly for individuals hailing from the most remote areas. Tragically, many pregnant women and other ailing individuals lost their lives on the arduous journey to reach this referral hospital, as it was the only one equipped with professional doctors and the necessary medical equipment to aid in safe deliveries. I have a personal connection to this hospital, as it’s where I was born. The story goes that during my birth, there was a delay, waiting for my father’s arrival. My mother endured days of labor, and I made my entrance into the world just as my father reached the hospital’s doorstep and entered her ward. It was at that moment that he had the privilege of naming me himself, a touching memory that links me intimately to this historic institution.

This is the Ruhengeri Maximum Prison, a facility that held over 2000 detainees, among them approximately 40 senior politicians and high-ranking Rwandan military officers. These individuals faced accusations related to their alleged involvement in a coup attempt against President Habyarimana during the 1980s. However, the course of history took a dramatic turn on January 23, 1991, when the Tutsi rebels launched an attack on Ruhengeri. During this assault, the Ruhengeri prison’s doors were opened, resulting in the liberation of more than 2000 prisoners, including prominent figures from the Habyarimana regime such as Theoneste Lizinde, Commander Leonidas Biseruka, Muvunanyambo, and others. This event marked a significant moment in the turbulent history of Rwanda.

Ruhengeri Maximum Prison

Amidst the ongoing attacks in Ruhengeri, fierce battles raged on at Nyamagumba and the Gendarmerie camp, further escalating the already volatile situation. Concurrently, a specialized unit from the 17th battalion embarked on a mission of utmost importance—to open the imposing gates of the Ruhengeri prison and secure the release of its detainees. This maximum-security prison housed approximately 2,000 individuals, including high-level political prisoners like Major Lizinde, who had previously served as the Chief of Spy under Habyarimana’s regime and had been implicated in the failed 1980 coup against Habyarimana Juvenal. However, the Tutsi rebels encountered a formidable challenge as they sought to liberate these detainees—the prison’s heavy metallic doors. These doors, lacking the appropriate keys, proved impervious to easy manipulation, forcing the rebels to take drastic measures. In a daring move, they turned to RPGs (Rocket Propelled Grenades) to breach the colossal padlocks, ultimately gaining access to the prison. However, the deployment of rockets came at a cost, as some inadvertently caused casualties among the detainees by both opening the metallic doors and penetrating the prison walls. Once the Tutsi rebels had breached the prison’s defenses and gained entry, they managed to free thousands of prisoners, among whom were prominent figures like Major Theoneste Lizinde, Commander Leonidas Biseruka, Captain Muvunanyambo, and several others.

With more than 5,000 rebels supported by over 1,000 specialized Ugandan troops armed with advanced weaponry, a relentless assault was launched on Ruhengeri, leaving a devastating trail of carnage in their wake. To preempt any potential intervention from Kigali, the RPF strategically deployed the 11th battalion in Cyuve, while their 19th battalion held position in Kimonyi, ready to counter any moves from Mukamira and Bigogwe military camps. This tactical maneuver allowed the 17th battalion to effectively neutralize the city of Ruhengeri and execute the prison raid without facing significant counterattacks. The attack on Ruhengeri was a calculated move aimed at rekindling international support, particularly from influential Washington lobbyists, who had been disheartened by the RPF rebels’ defeat and heavy casualties suffered in the Umutara region on October 30th, 1990.

Having achieved this significant milestone with relatively little resistance from the Rwandan military, the morale among the RPF rebels soared. The horrors that unfolded during the grueling 10-hour siege of Ruhengeri are etched in the darkest annals of history. The city was scarred by unimaginable atrocities, leaving a haunting trail of victims in its wake. Among those who suffered the most were the students of “Ecole des Sciences de la Santé” (ESSA Ruhengeri), a place that should have been a sanctuary of learning and hope, located near Ruhengeri Referral Hospital. It was here that the Tutsi rebels unleashed a wave of terror, subjecting innocent students to mass atrocities that included rape and massacres. The echoes of their suffering would reverberate for generations. The Catholic nuns at St. Vincent, situated near the Gendarmerie camp, were not spared from the brutality either. Their sacred abode became a scene of unspeakable horror as they, too, fell victim to the merciless onslaught of the Tutsi rebels. Similarly, the Ruhengeri Catholic Cathedral, a place of worship and solace, witnessed the darkest of days as it became a site of massacres and unimaginable violence

In the city of Ruhengeri, the RPF rebels unleashed a wave of widespread violence, capitalizing on minimal resistance from Muhoza Military Camp and the Gendarmerie Camp. Sadly, the intervention from Mukamira Military Camp and Kigali arrived late, allowing the rebels ample time to carry out their brutal actions. This attacking force included not only Tutsi rebels from the RPF but also specialized fighters from the Ugandan army, armed with heavy artillery, including the notorious Katyusha rocket launcher. These devastating weapons inflicted significant casualties and struck fear into the hearts of the fleeing people of Ruhengeri, further increasing the death toll and fortifying the RPF Tutsi rebels. As they made their way back up to Mount Sabyinyo, nestled within the Virunga National Park, accompanied by the previously condemned political prisoners, the path they left in their wake was one of unimaginable destruction, marking a haunting reminder of the brutality that unfolded during that dark day.

As the clock ticked past 1 pm, the city of Ruhengeri bore witness to a stark conclusion—the failure of the FAR (Forces Armées Rwandaises) to protect its people. Despite the presence of military camps nearby, namely Muhoza Military Camp and the Gendarmerie Camp, the FAR proved incapable of stemming the tide of violence unleashed by the RPF rebels. The audacious attack on Ruhengeri not only sowed fear and uncertainty among the local population but also raised profound questions regarding the ability of Habyarimana’s regime to defend Rwanda effectively.

However, amidst this chaos, the RPF achieved a significant victory. With meticulous planning and overwhelming force, they executed a daring prison raid, liberating thousands of detainees, including prominent figures such as Major Theoneste Lizinde. This operation marked a turning point in the RPF’s campaign, showcasing their determination and capabilities. The attack on Ruhengeri served as a somber chapter in the city’s history, with the Tutsi rebels retreating in the face of countermeasures, but the echoes of that fateful day would resonate for years to come.

Moreover, the attack on Ruhengeri held a deeper significance beyond its immediate success. It marked the fulfillment of Magayane’s prophecies to Major Theoneste Lizinde, as foretold in different stages. Magayane had prophesied that after years in Ruhengeri Maximum Prison, Tutsis from Uganda would come to set Lizinde free in an unconventional manner, ultimately joining forces with them to fight against Habyarimana’s regime.

This is the city of Ruhengeri, captured here as it appeared in 1991 when the Tutsi rebels launched their devastating attack on the city, resulting in the tragic loss of hundreds of thousands of lives in the early hours of January 23, 1991. A staggering force of more than 5000 Tutsi rebels descended upon this city, forcing numerous residents to flee their homes in fear. Some of those fleeing the turmoil in Ruhengeri sought refuge in our own houses, and they lived with us for several years. It wasn’t until the tragic assassination of President Habyarimana Juvenal on April 6, 1994, that my family and I joined them in their escape to Congo. Ruhengeri, also known as Musanze, is a city situated in northwest Rwanda. It serves as the gateway to Volcanoes National Park, a renowned habitat for mountain gorillas and golden monkeys.

This is a photo of the former Kinigi Commune, a place that carries haunting memories from the dark days of January 23, 1991 when the RPF Tutsi rebels launched a ruthless attack on Ruhengeri, claiming the lives of innocent civilians. Subsequently, during the RPF Kagame administration, the names of all Rwandan administrative districts were changed in an effort to erase the true history of the people of Rwanda. Notably, when the RPF Tutsi rebels initiated their assault on Ruhengeri, their first target was the Kinigi Commune. In a grim turn of events, they took the lives of the police officers on duty, as well as the staff members residing nearby the office. Moreover, they conducted house-to-house searches in the central area near the commune, awakening residents and subjecting them to horrifying massacres. This brutal violence was particularly devastating as many of the rebels leading the Ruhengeri attack were familiar with the region and its inhabitants. Most of the victims were individuals they knew well, predominantly educated Hutus.

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM