In the hilly village of Kibirezi, in the rural south of Rusizi District, where reconciliation once seemed like a far-off dream, an extraordinary love story unfolded. It is a story that defied history, fear, and generations of pain. ALSO READ: How young Rwandans should fight Genocide denial Donatha Yankurije, 40, and her husband, Alfred Uzabakiriho, 43, against all odds, chose love over hatred, peace over vengeance, and unity over division. Uzabakiriho was 12 during the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. It was then that he witnessed the brutal death of his father, Vedaste Kabera, at the hands of Interahamwe militia. One of the killers was Gratien Nyaminani, who, years later, would become the father-in-law he never expected. ALSO READ: Linda Melvern’s new book exposes patterns of Genocide denial “My husband was hacked to death at around 3 p.m,” recalled Bernadette Mukakabera, Uzabakiriho’s mother. “Our house was destroyed, everything looted. I was eight months pregnant, walking alone throughout the night with no will to live. I told myself, ‘Let them kill me too so it can be over.’ But I survived. Perhaps God wanted me to tell this story.” Years passed. ALSO READ: 31 years later, Rwanda remembers Nyaminani went into hiding but was later arrested and brought before the Gacaca courts. Mukakabera, once a judge in the community justice system, had to step down due to the personal ties in the case. It was important to avoid a conflict of interest in the trial. ALSO READ: DR Congo's support for Genocidal militia still the biggest threat to peace “I met Gratien at Gishoma commune,” she said. “I told him: ‘you have to confess, others who did so were forgiven, why do you still harden your heart?’ He was ashamed. Eventually, he confessed everything, in writing. That’s when peace started growing in my heart.” But reconciliation, as powerful as it is, took on new meaning in 2005. That year, both families enrolled in a six-month reconciliation module designed by a local church. Though the process was spiritual and structured, nothing prepared them for what came next. ALSO READ: Over 1,200 Genocide victims found in Mibilizi exhumations Before the course was even finished, Uzabakiriho, then serving in the Rwanda Defence Force, made a bold move. He asked for the hand of Nyaminani’s only daughter. “I was in the military, always moving. I never had time for ethnic labels. When I decided to marry Donatha, I didn’t care what people would say,” he said. “We hadn’t been dating long. I asked for her hand, and less than a month later, we were living together as husband and wife.” “People thought we were crazy,” his wife said, “They said, ‘how can the son of a genocide victim marry the daughter of the man who killed his father?’ But we never let it get to us. A crime is personal to the one who committed it.” Her father did not oppose their marriage. He explained that he could not interfere because their families were already on a path to reconciliation, and he saw the union as simply a continuation of that journey. But the couple’s story wasn’t one of instant romance. It was a bond forged in shared community, service, and understanding. As neighbours, they had grown up together. She spent many days at Uzabakiriho’s home, often helping his mother with house chores. ALSO READ: RIB launches inquiry into concealment of Genocide victims’ remains in Mibilizi “I was raised by my father alone after our mother passed away,” sha said. “Among five children, I was the only girl. Alfred’s mother had only one daughter as well, so I found a home with her.” In 2000, when Uzabakiriho joined the military, she continued to help his mother. Over time, their bond grew. Uzabakiriho noticed not just her kindness, but her good spirit. “He told me that ‘from what I’ve seen in you, how you behave, and how you care for my mother, I feel we should get married. I thought it was strange at first. I even resisted. I told him, ‘won’t people think we’re like siblings?’ But he insisted, and eventually, I agreed.” ‘I never cared that her people had killed ours’ She was 20, and he was 23. That very evening, Uzabakiriho spoke to her family and asked for her hand in marriage. “Our wedding wasn’t grand,” he recalled. “I had Rwf900,000 and an extra Rwf300,000 in contributions. But I was sure about her. We have been in love since childhood. I never cared that her people had killed ours.” Today, they are proud parents of four children: one in Primary 6, one in Primary 5, one in Primary 3, and a baby awaiting baptism. ALSO READ: Healing across generations: How to share Genocide stories with youth “Building a family is about patience,” she explained. “When a problem arises, you talk it through. That’s what we do.” Despite early scepticism, especially from neighbours and friends or other acquaintances still clinging to old ethnic divisions, they’ve lived peacefully, never exchanging hurtful words, never seeking revenge. “People whispered,” he said. “They doubted us. But we ignored the gossip. The genocide ideology may have created taboos around intermarriage, but today we are all one, Rwandans.” Mukakabera, the grieving widow who once thought life was over, saw Yankurije not just as a daughter-in-law, but as her own daughter. “She helped me a lot long before they got married. She was unconditionally kind. Despite knowing what her father did to my husband, I found no hatred in her. Only love.” ALSO READ: Rwanda urges global action against Genocide denial and ideology Their love story has become a living example of the possibility of reconciliation. “Today, we teach our children not to carry the pain of the past,” he said. “My message to Rwandans is simple: we must understand we are one people. The genocide happened, yes. But we must move forward, united, strong, and focused on building this country.”
