As Rwanda begins the 100 days of mourning, the nation pauses to remember more than a million lives lost during the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi — men, women and children who were abandoned to a machinery of extermination by a regime that was legally and morally bound to protect them. This is a period of pain, especially for survivors. For them, commemoration is not a ritual but something profoundly personal. It revives memories of horror, loss and betrayal that no passage of time can fully erase. Standing in solidarity with survivors, therefore, is not optional. It is a moral duty. It is an affirmation that their pain is seen, their resilience honoured, and their loved ones not forgotten. But mourning alone should and must not be an end in itself. Kwibuka is not only about looking back. It is about looking inward. It is about asking whether, as a country and as individuals, we are doing enough to ensure that what happened 32 years ago never happens again — not in Rwanda, and not anywhere in the region. That responsibility falls squarely on our shoulders as a community. The Genocide against the Tutsi did not begin with mass killings. It began with poisonous ideas, with the dehumanisation of fellow citizens, with hate tolerated for too long, and with silence from those who should have acted. That is why remembrance must be joined to vigilance. “Never Again” cannot be reduced to an annual slogan. It must be a daily commitment — in our speech, in our choices, in our politics, and in the values we pass on to younger generations. This matters even more in a region where the dangers of ethnic extremism, impunity and armed violence have not disappeared, mainly in the neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo, and sadly with the perpetrators in Rwanda 32 years ago at the forefront. The lesson of Rwanda’s tragedy is clear: when hatred is ignored, when truth is distorted, and when human dignity is denied, catastrophe is never far behind. So this mourning period must be more than a national moment of grief. It must also be a national recommitment — to fight genocide ideology in all its forms, to reject divisionism wherever it appears, and to defend the dignity of every human being without compromise. The victims of the Genocide against the Tutsi deserve remembrance. Survivors deserve solidarity. But the country also owes them something more: vigilance, courage and action. That is the true meaning of Kwibuka. Not only to remember the dead, but to protect the living. Not only to say “Never Again,” but to mean it.
