The Government of Rwanda institutionalised love, and care. That service has been Francis Musoni's life's work. At the Rwanda Demobilisation and Reintegration Commission (RDRC), Mutobo sits as an open facility, one without bars or wired fencing.

On Thursday, October 30th, Rwanda received 326 returnees from 98 families from the DR Congo. On the same day, the 75th official ceremony of discharging and reintegrating former members of FDLR and other militia groups took place. This milestone brings to mind my own visit of Mutobo this May, where Musoni, the Secretary General of the RDRC, spoke to a group of us Rwandan youth.

I arrived with my own preconceived notions about the facility that is located along the Musanze-Rubavu highway and the people it hosts. After interacting with our compatriots there, I realised that it is only by chance that I am not one of the Rwandans going through this programme. Even more importantly, it is by choice that our leadership practices trust-building, by being trustworthy.

Musoni first introduced us to Aimable Ntizirora, a manager at RDRC who underwent the rehabilitation exercise himself in the early 2000s. Together, they shared the story of the centre. Since 2001, their mission to rehabilitate and reintegrate ex-combatants returning from the DR Congo has achieved remarkable success: of 12,600 ex-combatants and around 12,000 of their family members, fewer than ten have ever returned to militia life. Beyond the numbers, they are building our future, not our past.

As we entered the grounds, I watched returnees playing football with locals tending their gardens, children walking to school nearby. Francis explained the intentionality behind openness: freedom is practiced before it is preached. "Reintegration is not only about laying down weapons," he told us. "True peace-keeping is about restoring human dignity."

Francis recounted an appearance on a podcast, where the interviewer raised a chilling 2008 Guardian article by Chris McGreal. In it, a 13-year-old militiamen said: "It is the Tutsi, the Inyenzi, the cockroaches, who are to blame for my predicament. I have to kill them all." The interviewer asked Francis directly: how do you manage to turn terrorists into citizens? "The young man was not born hateful," Musoni explained. "He was indoctrinated, sent to collect hate instead of an education."

The FDLR, he explained, feeds off the most vulnerable, not necessarily the most evil. Propaganda and kidnapping are their only recruitment tools. But in 2025, these are not just remnants hiding in the bush – they are armed and financed by the DRC government, fighting on the frontlines alongside FARDC. They spread their genocidal ideology to Congolese communities and help organize and train militias like Wazalendo. This sponsorship keeps the cycle alive.

Many who want to return home fear being caught by FARDC on their way back. The consequences are severe: execution awaits those suspected of fleeing. The boys who make it through tell stories of all the ways those caught trying to escape are killed. This terror is designed to keep them hostage.

These children believe guns mean meals and killing is their ticket home. They survive by stealing food from Congolese families under the instruction of perpetrators hiding from justice. Recently, the centre received 80 youngsters aged sixteen to eighteen who had been trained as house help with orders to poison Tutsi families. "We rehabilitated them for over a year," Francis said. "That year was a year of unlearning killing and learning to imagine a prosperous life."

What struck me most was how trust is rebuilt through simple acts. Francis recalled a mother who cried when offered milk for her baby. "Please, this baby is the only family I have left, do not give them the milk," she begged. She had been fed propaganda in DRC – told that Rwandan officials would murder her child. This lie was designed to keep her hostage in the bush. His team sat with the arrivals, ate with them, shared utensils. They packaged the milk in front of her, checked its temperature, tasted it themselves, then offered it to the child.

Every newcomer receives access to basic needs, professional counseling, and social education tailored by age and gender. Even toddlers get specialized therapy through sports, music, and drama. "Some of these children never learned how to play," Francis told me. "You find a five-year-old who has never known childhood." The center works in partnership with the National Council for Children on both nutrition and counseling, managing to help people transition from desperate situations into normal life, often for the first time.

Hakim Ali Bahati, a former FDLR corporal, described his arrival: "Instead of chopping my head off like they told me, they treated us so well. I couldn&039;t sleep in the bush, my head was too heavy with the negative. Now I have the peace to sleep."

Francis measures success not by scorecards but by satisfaction: by whether returnees feel their country has welcomed them home. The results range from ninety to ninety-five percent. Once reintegrated, they access the same services as everyone else. Through pre-paid phone lines and radio broadcasts, they reach out to relatives still in the bush, becoming the voices they once needed.

Many now help with repatriations, guiding new arrivals. Among the screening teams and within Mutobo itself are former FDLR members like Aimable who help trace and welcome those still coming home.

"Rwanda has been ready to receive them for years," Musoni said. "The RDRC team is simply the welcoming committee."

Walking through Mutobo, I understood: this is how you build a country. Not by forgetting, but by choosing, every single day, to restore what was broken. To give more than you ask. To prove through action that there is another way to live.