Marie-Rose Hodari, a 53-year-old mother of two, lives in the same place where her world crumbled three decades ago. A survivor of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, Hodari is a living testimony of unimaginable horror, strength, and the fragile line between life and death.

Hodari was a 22-year-old student, old when the Genocide unfolded. Her home, located in Shyorongi near the Nyabarongo River, on the outskirts of Kigali, turned into a place of terror overnight. Her family had fled from Bigogwe, in northwestern Rwanda, when ethnic killings targeted the Tutsi there.

"In 1991, when Abagogwe were being killed, we survived and fled to Shyorongi and later Gatenga in Kicukiro District. However, we didn’t find peace there, not even for a single night,” she recalled.

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In Shyorongi, Hodari’s family of 14 people lived near the residence of MRND party leader Bonaventure Habimana. Whenever MRND and CDR meetings took place, her father, Desire Gakumba who was a teacher, used to carry them on his shoulders to hide in a maize store that was in a crocodile- and mosquito-infested swamp.

"The killers used to tell my father that they are lucky he lived near the Nyabarongo River. It would be easy for them to throw him in the river. He would make their job easier.”

Unforeseen and unexplained betrayal

Hodari lost both her parents along with her seven siblings during the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. Her father was killed on April 7, the day Genocide began.

On April 10, Hodari and her siblings went to ETO Kicukiro, where some 2,000 Tutsi had sought refuge, believing the UN troops (UNAMIR) would protect them. However, they were left at the mercy of the machete-wielding Interahamwe, when the Belgian contingent abandoned them on April 11.

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This led to the massacre of over 2,000 Tutsi, who were later killed at Nyanza hill after being forced out of the technical school.

"We saw them. We begged them. We told them we were going to be killed. They left. They left us behind like we didn’t matter,” she says, her voice shaking. "Soon after, the Interahamwe and Impuzamugambi came in and only a few survived.”

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The next day, the survivors decided to head to Amahoro Stadium, but they ended up being taken to Nyanza hill, about three kilometres from ETO Kicukiro. She recalled people emerging from their homes to mock them, shouting: ‘Let’s see those Tutsi with tails!’ and ‘Unlucky to be abandoned only by Belgian peacekeepers.’

"The killers accused us of killing ‘Katumba’, a member of the CDR party, and later, President Juvenal Habyarimana,” she says. "They said we would pay for it and follow them to be buried in the same soil.”

What was initially meant to be a journey to Amahoro Stadium, where thousands more had sought refuge, turned into a path of torture to Nyanza, Kicukiro.

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My little sister saved me while the world watched us die!

"After we got there, there were mass killings with gunshots and grenades. I saw many people die right in front of me, including my little sisters and brother, on April 12,” Hodari recalled.

"The killers later returned to check for anyone who might have survived. I was lying under dead bodies, covered in blood. They noticed my sister near me and said, ‘Oops, we’ve killed one of our own Hutus. She looks Hutu; she has a short nose.’

"I couldn’t feel anything. One of them touched my hand and said, ‘the Tutsi don’t die.’ Then he hit me on the head with a club. I later developed internal bleeding, and to this day, the spot where I was hit has never grown hair,” she said.

Hodari managed to escape through a narrow path in a field of banana trees. They hid among dead bodies and later fled to a nearby house where a woman gave them uncooked porridge but told them to leave immediately before her sons—who were among the killers—returned.

"We did as she said and went back to hide among the bodies. The next day, the killers returned. We begged them to kill us, but they refused, saying, "Your blood should not follow us.”

They remained hidden there until the Rwanda Patriotic Army (RPA) arrived in the area and rescued us and took them to Rebero hill.

"They could even demolish houses and use the doors as stretchers to carry us, because we were too weak to walk. We were ready to die, but Inkotanyi still managed to save us.”

"A few months later, after returning from Byumba [a Commune in Kigali], where Inkotanyi soldiers had taken us for treatment, I went back to the place where I had hidden the bodies of my siblings.”

She reconnected with her surviving siblings and buried them. "We gave them a proper burial, followed later by a national burial at the memorial. We are forever grateful to the humanitarian and compassion Inkotanyi soldiers showed us.”

Today, Hodari is a mother of two school-aged children and lives in the same neighborhood. "Every corner holds a memory,” she says. "But I chose to stay. This is my home. Leaving this place would mean the killers won.”

Since 1996, she has found healing by participating in community discussions, national commemoration events, and sharing her testimony, especially with the younger generation. One such event, Our Past Initiative, where she shared her survivor testimony on Wednesday, April 9.

Hodari hopes the world will continue to learn from Rwanda’s past, particularly the cost of international silence in the face of atrocities.

"The Belgian peacekeepers, who were supposed to protect us, walked away. Shame! Tell them I’m still alive. I was treated—both the fresh wounds and scars—and I survived. I’m thankful to the Inkotanyi soldiers.”