For many young creatives, storytelling begins as a form of expression—an attempt to capture beauty, emotion, or everyday life. For me, it started the same way, through photography. Walking through the streets of Kigali, I was drawn to ordinary moments: the rhythm of the city in the early morning, the determination in people’s faces, and the quiet resilience that defines daily life.

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But over time, storytelling became something more.

My understanding deepened as I began documenting the transformation of Rwanda from the ruins of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. Every year, in April, during Kwibuka, we are called not only to remember the lives lost, but also to reflect on the strength of a nation that has chosen to rebuild, reconcile, and redefine itself.

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Through my lens, I encountered more than grief. I witnessed dignity, unity, and an unspoken determination to move forward. Compelled to share these moments, I began posting my work on social media. What started as personal expression gradually evolved into purpose.

That purpose, however, was shaped by a moment I have never forgotten.

Around 2005, I had a friend visiting from the United States. His name was Marcus. I wanted to show him the beauty of my country—the Rwanda I know and experience every day. Naturally, I turned to the internet, thinking it would be the quickest way to do so. I searched for "Rwanda.” What appeared on the screen stopped me.

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Image after image reflected only one story: the 1994 Genocide. While these images are an important part of our history, they capture only a fraction of Rwanda’s story. They reflect a painful chapter we must continue to remember, but Rwanda is no longer defined solely by the genocide. We have so much more to share with the world—a land of a thousand hills, resilient people, and remarkable progress. Beyond our dark past, we have made a conscious choice to rebuild, to heal, and to grow into a nation defined not only by where we have been, but by the strength and hope that guide us forward.

Marcus looked at me and asked, "Is this all there is? I thought Rwanda was the land of a thousand hills... and gorillas?” I had no answer. I just kept scrolling, hoping to find something different—something more reflective of who we are. That moment stayed with me. It made me realize that the world was seeing Rwanda through a very narrow lens. And if that lens was not challenged, it would continue to define us.

Years later, even with all the progress Rwanda has made, I still see how many perceptions remain incomplete—often shaped by outdated narratives that focus almost exclusively on our past. While the Genocide against the Tutsi is a defining part of our history, it is not the entirety of our story. Yet for many, it remains the dominant reference point.

This realization highlighted a critical responsibility.

As President Paul Kagame said at Rwanda Day 2012: "It should be our pride to live in a dignified country. You must continually tell the story of your country. If you don’t, someone else will tell it the wrong way. The progress we have made has come without shortcuts or lies. Progress invites detractors, but that is okay. We have the ability, desire, and will to define ourselves. Detractors will do their job; I will do mine. If my progress hurts anyone, it is not our intention—sorry.”

Those words stayed with me. They challenged me to be intentional. I made a promise to myself: to document Rwanda—where we are and where we are going. To ensure that the next time someone searches for Rwanda, they see more than a single story.

Over the years, my work has become a reflection of that commitment. I have documented stories of resilience and transformation: people like Josline from Bugesera, a farmer whose perseverance reflects the strength of rural communities; Jean-Marie in Rusizi, a young entrepreneur who lost everything but chose to start again and is now rebuilding his life; and groups of women in places like Cyuve who come together to save, invest, and uplift their communities. These are the stories that define Rwanda today—stories of recovery and growth, of survival and ambition, of being written off and becoming a place of possibility.

During this period of remembrance, this responsibility becomes even more important. Kwibuka is not only about honouring the past; it is also about protecting the truth. It calls on us to present our history with integrity while ensuring that it is not distorted or misunderstood.

In today’s digital age, platforms such as Instagram, LinkedIn, TikTok, X (formerly Twitter), and YouTube have transformed how stories are told. Information travels instantly, crossing borders and shaping perceptions in real time. This presents both an opportunity and a responsibility. The opportunity is clear: we can share our lived experiences with the world directly and authentically. The responsibility is just as important: to ensure that what we share is truthful, constructive, and reflective of who we are. Without our voices, misinformation and incomplete narratives can easily take root, as we have seen time and again.

This is why I believe Rwanda’s youth have a critical role to play.

We are not just observers of Rwanda’s progress; we are active participants in shaping its future. We understand the weight of our history and the promise of what lies ahead. Our voices carry authenticity, relevance, and credibility.

Telling Rwanda’s story, therefore, cannot be left to institutions alone. It must also be driven by us—the young people who witness transformation every single day. From a country once defined only by tragedy to one now recognized for its stability and ambition. From communities rebuilding trust to communities driving innovation. From silence to voices that are ready to be heard.

And telling that story does not require sophisticated tools or large platforms. It requires intention. A smartphone, a camera, pen and paper, and more—all of these can contribute to shaping how Rwanda is seen.

At the same time, we must remain responsible in how we engage online. Rwanda’s history reminds us of the dangers of hate speech and the consequences of unchecked narratives. In today’s world, these risks are amplified by the speed and reach of digital platforms.

Using social media responsibly means promoting truth, challenging misinformation constructively, and refusing to amplify harmful content. It means fostering dialogue that reflects our values of unity, respect, and national cohesion.

Ultimately, Rwanda’s story will be told.

The question is: who will tell it, and how?

If we, as Rwandans—especially the youth—do not actively share our perspectives, others will fill that space. And in doing so, they may present a version of Rwanda that does not reflect its reality.

The responsibility, therefore, is ours. Rwanda’s story is one of remembrance, resilience, and renewal. It is still being written, shaped every day by the choices we make and the voices we use.

Fellow young Rwandans, the message is clear: your voice matters. Your perspective is valid. And your role in telling Rwanda’s story is essential.

By choosing to speak, to create, and to share with purpose, you do more than communicate; you help define how Rwanda is seen, understood, and known to the world.

So, the next time someone searches for Rwanda on the internet, what will they find?

Let it be a story that you helped tell.

The writer is a photographer and communication professional.