Laurent Mukeshimana still remembers the moment his life fell apart in 1994. During the Genocide against the Tutsi, he lost his wife and five of his eight children. The youngest was only five years old. When the killings ended, only his three daughters survived. ALSO READ: Ibuka at 30: Decades of resilience, rebuilding I was left alone with young children, and life was very difficult, recalls 77-year-old Mukeshimana. Raising them on my own was overwhelming. Like many survivors, I was dealing with grief, and the daily struggle to survive and piece life back together,” he said. Mukeshimana was born in Ruhengeri, but in 1959, he was forced to leave his home and start life somewhere else. At the time, violence had broken out across the country, and many families had to flee their homes. ALSO READ: Ibuka mobilises aid for needy Genocide survivors He remarried after the Genocide and his second wife became a strong support, helping him raise his surviving daughters. Together, they had five children of their own. Today, all of Mukeshimana’s children are grown up; two are in university. Healing and support According to Mukeshimana, the path to healing has been long, but talking to others who had gone through similar experiences has helped him. “Listening to the stories of other survivors comforted me, and I realised I wasn’t alone. Through those conversations, survivors shared their pain and slowly began to rebuild hope,” he said. Over the years, Ibuka, the association of genocide survivors founded in 1995, has also provided support psychosocial support. Mukeshimana said, “We meet and talk about what happened, and we comfort each other. These gatherings helped ease the loneliness many survivors carried for years. “They became places of remembrance and healing, where members support one another emotionally and, in some cases, even help each other rebuild livelihoods and regain a sense of normal life.” To this day, Mukeshimana worries about the future. He hopes Rwanda’s peace and stability will last, so future generations never have to endure the suffering he did. He urges young people to protect that peace and avoid division. The story of Mukandori Speciose Mukandori, a resident of Ntarama Sector in Bugesera District, was widowed during the Genocide. She was 38 when she lost her husband, six children, and other family members, leaving her with three children. Life was extremely difficult. Her children and she were physically and psychologically wounded, and their home was destroyed. Government programmes provided survivors with shelter, medical assistance, including treatment abroad when necessary, and education for those who could go to school. The Genocide Survivors’ Assistance Fund (FARG) helped survivors rebuild their lives and sponsored their education. Many survivors were brought together in supportive housing. Restoring basic services like water, electricity, and roads brought dignity back to everyday life, while government programmes promoted unity and reconciliation, stressing that such violence must never happen again. Mukandori experienced a long-term impact of psychological wounds. Over time, counseling, conversations, and seeing her children return to school helped her begin to heal. Sports, social interactions, and ongoing emotional support gave her strength and hope. “At first, I didn’t think I could ever heal, but with Ibuka and the government helping, teaching us, talking with us, and making sure we had what we needed, I slowly started to feel a little better, she said. “Life was so hard back then. We barely anything to eat, clothes, or anyt other necessities, but having people there for us, over and over, made a difference,” she said. Inspired by how the FPR-Inkotanyi saved their lives, Mukandori wanted her children to study and give back to society. She said her wish came true as one daughter is a headmistress and serves on the Bugesera District Advisory Council, another works at a school, and her youngest is a practicing lawyer. Counseling and medical care, including support from the Aheza Healing and Career Center in Ntarama, helped her recover physically. Meeting in small groups with other survivors gave her emotional support and comfort. “We meet for sports every Monday at 3 p.m., where we strengthen our bodies, build morale, have conversations, and create friendships,” Mukandori said. She noted that with Ibuka’s support, survivors learned to grow vegetables and fruits to improve their nutrition and slowly become more self-reliant. They supplemented their income through government allowances, support from their children, and small side projects. Regular check-ups and medical insurance have helped her stay healthy. Physical exercise has kept her body and spirit strong. Compared to the aftermath of the Genocide, Mukandori noted that life has become much easier today. Local leaders and the Ministry of Unity and Reconciliation are available whenever anyone needs help, she said. The weight of trauma: Survivors’ ongoing struggles and healing Thirty-two years on, survivors are still recovering, and healing is different for everyone. Aimee Josiane Umulisa, a clinical psychologist at Ibuka, explained that the trauma many survivors experienced has long-lasting effects. Many live with chronic post-traumatic stress, experiencing memories and pain that resurface over time. “Flashbacks, intrusive memories, nightmares, and constant alertness are experiences that don’t just fade away,” Umulisa said. “Grief is mainly hard for those who lost entire families. Survivor guilt is also common, with many wondering why they survived when others didn’t.” The psychologist noted that anxiety and depression are still common, and many survivors struggle with feelings of insecurity, isolation, and have difficulty trusting others, effects that can be transmitted reach the generation that never experienced Genocide. Children and grandchildren feel the weight of what their parents and grandparents went through, she noted. Even those who have rebuilt their lives can still be shaken during commemoration events. Umulisa said that it is important to be prepared, have mental health support during Kwibuka, and use calming techniques to manage stress. Physical injuries continue to affect survivors, making daily life difficult. Chronic pain, disabilities, and visible scars don’t just impact their bodies; they also take a toll on their self-esteem. “Some survivors pull back from others because of their scars. These injuries bring back painful memories and make it harder to work or support themselves. As the years pass, the damage to their bodies reminds them of the violence they endured, leaving them feeling fragile,” she said. Umulisa said that survivors need spaces where they can share their experiences without fear. Trauma-informed care helps them rebuild trust at their own pace, with respect for their boundaries. These spaces are built on trust, respect for cultural practices, and open conversations within the community, allowing survivors to decide what they are comfortable sharing. As survivors grow older, their needs change. Their physical health, mental well-being, and social connections need attention. Issues like age-related conditions, isolation, and financial struggles need to be addressed. “Building strong community networks, maintaining dignity, and preserving the memory of the past are vital for healing,”Umulisa said. She added that sharing their stories in a safe space can help heal, and it strengthens the resilience of the nation.
