Dear Rwandans, dear friends of Rwanda, dear citizens of the world... Today, on this sacred occasion of Rwanda’s Heroes’ Day, we gather not merely to commemorate but to reflect, to be moved, and to be transformed by the essence of heroism. The first day of February is not just a date; it is a beacon of light in our nation’s journey, illuminating the sacrifices, courage, and resilience of those who shaped our destiny. It is a day when history speaks, when memories demand recognition, and when the living renew their duty to honor the past by shaping a worthy future. As we commemorate Rwanda’s Heroes' Day, we do more than mark a date on the calendar—we invoke the soul of a nation. We summon the spirits of those who lived, fought, and sacrificed, not for themselves, but for something far greater. Rwanda's history is not just a tale of struggle and survival; it is a testament to the boundless courage, resilience, and nobility that define true heroism. But what or who is a hero? What is the true meaning of heroism? A hero is not merely a warrior on the battlefield. A hero is one who stands when others cower, who speaks when silence is safer, who builds when destruction reigns, and who loves when hatred threatens to consume all. The Law nº 65/2024 of 20/06/2024 Governing the Chancellery for Heroes, National Orders and Decorations of Honour defines a hero as “a person who pursues his or her objectives which result into a supreme achievement of public interest, and does so with nobility, courage, outstanding sacrifice, and resilience.” This definition is powerful, yet insufficient. For heroism is more than an achievement—it is a covenant with history, a testament to the undying spirit of those who choose righteousness over comfort, sacrifice over self-interest, and nation over self-preservation. To grasp the full weight of this definition, we must take a journey—one that reminds us of the depth of heroism we cherish. Rwanda, more than any nation, knows that heroism is not abstract; it is flesh and blood, it is sweat and tears, it is both victory and pain. A journey through Rwanda’s history President Paul Kagame once said, Heroes are those who choose to rise beyond their own fears, beyond their own interests, for the sake of many. And indeed, in Rwanda’s darkest hours, when death was an anthem and despair a language, heroes stood. We honor those who, in their most hopeful young ages, defied oppression and fought for the unity of this nation—the Fred Rwigemas and many unknown soldiers whose names may not be carved in stone, but whose deeds are written in the heart of Rwanda. We remember King Mutara III Rudahigwa, a monarch who refused to let colonial shackles define Rwandan dignity, and Michel Rwagasana, a man of letters and principle, who paid the price for believing in a Rwanda for all Rwandans. The history of Rwanda is not merely a chronicle of events; it is a sacred narrative of heroism. Every chapter is inscribed with the names of those who stood firm, those who bled, and those who refused to surrender the dream of one united, dignified Rwanda for the indivisibility of our nation. And what of those whose heroism was not in battle but in the power of their convictions? Faustin Rucogoza, the Minister of Information, saw the storm gathering. He stood before the infamous RTLM hate propagandists—Félicien Kabuga, Ferdinand Nahimana, and Jean Bosco Barayagwiza—and dared to tell them that their broadcasts were a poison preparing Rwanda for genocide. He was not naïve. He knew what such defiance meant. And yet, he chose to speak, to stand, and ultimately to perish—alongside his wife and children—on April 7, 1994. The world was silent. The so-called international community turned away. The United Nations, which should have echoed Rucogoza’s warning, had men like Jacques Roger Booh-Booh—who symbolized indifference, incompetence, or worse, complicity. And yet, even in the darkness of global apathy, there were lights—peacekeepers within UNAMIR who defied orders to abandon the innocent, choosing conscience over cowardice. Meaning, not all who wore uniforms in Rwanda’s genocide against Tutsi, were cowards or villains. Some among the peacekeepers of UNAMIR defied orders and saved lives. Let history never forget the distinction between those who acted and those who turned away. Heroism beyond borders Rwandans have always known that heroism is not limited to the battlefield; it is the ability to stand for justice when standing alone means standing in danger. It is the courage to uphold truth when deception is the currency of the day. Even beyond our borders, voices rose for Rwanda. Mwalimu Julius Nyerere of Tanzania did not hesitate when Rwanda’s liberation struggle needed moral support. So was President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni of Uganda. Both understood that injustice in one African nation was an injustice to all. And today, as we remember our own, let us also honor those who walked with us when the road was dark. Philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once said, “Commitment is an act, not a word.” Rwanda’s heroes embodied this truth—they did not merely speak of justice; they lived and died for it. Historian David Olusoga reminds us, “History is not the past. It is the present. We carry our history with us. We are our history.” Rwanda does not simply remember its heroes; Rwanda is because of its heroes. Their legacy is not trapped in books and monuments; it is in the daily triumphs of a people who refuse to be defined by victimhood but instead choose the path of dignity and progress. A legacy that demands action Our President and my hero, Paul Kagame, once said: “We owe it to those who fought for this country to ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain. The best way to honor them is not just to remember, but to build the nation they dreamed of.” The task before us is clear. Rwanda has come far, but the work of nation-building is never complete. The enemies of unity, the architects of division, and the merchants of genocide ideology still lurk, adapting their language but never abandoning their goal. To praise our heroes without defending their ideals is betrayal. To commemorate without commitment is hypocrisy. Renowned Senegalese author Boubacar Boris Diop, in his reflections on Rwanda, wrote: “The world’s greatest crime is not genocide, but the silence that follows it.” This silence, this indifference, this complicity—these are the enemies we must fight today. The unfinished journey As we stand in the shadow of our history, let us pledge to carry forward the light of our heroes. Let us be relentless in our pursuit of justice, unyielding in our defense of unity, and unwavering in our love for Rwanda. Heroism is not for the past alone; it is a challenge for the present. It is the silent soldier rehabilitating from wounds we cannot see. It is the teacher molding young minds with the truth of our history. It is the parent raising a child with the values of dignity and respect. It is every Rwandan who, in their daily struggles and triumphs, ensures that this country remains strong, proud, and indivisible. And so, my fellow Rwandans, and their friends, let us not only celebrate heroes today—let us be heroes. Let us inherit their courage. Let us embody their sacrifice. Let us build a Rwanda so strong, so united, so just, that future generations will look back and say: they did not just remember their heroes; they became them. Bacons of our nation’s soul Philosopher Aristotle once said, “You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor.” Rwanda has shown that courage is not only found in the battlefield, but in the marketplace, the classroom, the fields where farmers toil, and the homes where families heal from wounds both seen and unseen. The great Friedrich Nietzsche declared, He who has a why to live can bear almost any how. Rwandan heroes, past and present, had a why. Our heroes never fought not for power, not for revenge, but for a Rwanda that lives beyond division, a Rwanda that will never again be a battleground of hatred. Historians Yves Ternon and Alain Destexhe, who have studied genocide and its aftermath, remind us that history is not only written in books—it is carved into the bones of nations. Ternon warned that genocide is not a sudden madness but a planned process that must be actively resisted. Destexhe described Rwanda’s story as one of resilience against the world's worst crime. Their words remind us that heroism is not only about action—it is about vigilance. The reckoning of conscience Rakiya Omaar, a human rights investigator and scholar who documented Rwanda’s suffering, once wrote, “The history of Rwanda is written in the suffering of its people, but also in their astonishing resilience.” That resilience was born from the determination of those who refused to be broken. The orphans who became leaders, the widows who became the pillars of a rebuilding nation, the survivors who embraced unity over vengeance—these are the living proof that heroism did not end with the battlefield; it continues in the quiet, unshaken resolve to build. Bill Clinton, reflecting on the failures of the international community, stated: “We cannot change the past. But we can and must do everything in our power to change the future.” The world failed Rwanda in 1994. The lesson must not be forgotten. True heroism lies not just in the hands of those who fought, but in those who refuse to let history repeat it. Boubacar Boris Diop, who chronicled Rwanda’s pain in Murambi: The Book of Bones, captured the weight of history: In Rwanda, even silence is filled with voices. Every Rwandan carries the whispers of those who perished, the songs of those who fought, and the prayers of those who rebuild. We are not just honoring the dead today; we are embracing the living. Heroes are not only those who are buried beneath our soil but those who walk among us—the veterans who lost limbs, the survivors who lost families but not hope, the leaders who choose service over personal gain. These are the builders of our nation, laying brick upon brick with resilience that defies all odds. We do not forget. We do not erase. We remember. Let us not relegate heroism to history. Let it be a living force. Let every Rwandan ask, How do I honor the sacrifices made for me? Let our teachers, our doctors, our farmers, our soldiers, our artists, and our children embody the virtues of nobility, courage, sacrifice, and resilience. Mwalimu Julius Nyerere once stood with Rwandans in our time of need, proving that heroism transcends borders. Today, Rwanda stands, unbroken and unbowed, because of the heroes who dared to dream of a nation reborn. And so, as we mark this day, let it not be an event, but a vow. A vow to never forget. A vow to protect what has been built. A vow to ensure that future generations inherit a Rwanda worthy of the blood, sweat, and tears shed for it. Our heroes did not die so that we could stand still. They lived so that Rwanda could move forward. This is not the end of our journey--it is only a beginning. Long live Rwanda! Long live our heroes!
