My name is Sonia Mugabo and I am a survivor of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. I am starting my testimony by replaying events through the experience of my four-year-old self. May we all hear the voices of children, who are learning to be expressive under the best of circumstances, and are often completely absent when they, as I was, have been traumatized. For a while, I appeared whole. It was my childhood armor, hiding scars, suffering, and distress. What you see today is me, dressed in a cloak of healing, which is often forgiving and will be in production forever. Thursday, April 7th, 1994 was so quiet, it seemed like a Sunday. Mum told us to shower and wear our Sunday clothes; she then started preparing a meal for us. This was special because as a working mother, she only cooked on weekends. When I look back, I now understand it was supposed to be our last meal together. She anticipated what was to follow yet she kept calm. When we were almost done with lunch, we noticed a large group of people running down Mount Kigali with machetes and screaming very loudly. Mum told us to run quickly to our Congolese neighbors and that she and Dad would join us. In less than five minutes, a group of military men stormed our house shooting into all the doors. They threw grenades into the windows and screamed “you will die in there”. They rushed to the neighbor’s house, searched everywhere and asked them if they had seen us flee. The gateman, who had hidden us, told them we left earlier that morning. The soldiers went to search his room - where we were hidden - and found the door locked. They demanded the keys. He replied his boss, away in Congo, kept the keys. A little curtain covered the glass door. Without the curtain, the soldiers would have instantly locked eyes on us. At night, our neighbor’s brothers requested we leave, fearing they would be killed for protecting us. We went back to our mostly destroyed home and spent a night in the side quarters. During the day we were told Dad was killed. Mum was devastated. In the wee hours of April 08th, Dad, surprising us, knocked on the door and hustled us to Gisimba orphanage -- about 100 meters from our home. The next morning, on April 09th to our surprise, there was an announcement that all parents had to leave the orphanage. Gisimba, the owner, convinced every parent that they had to vacate the area in the best interest of their children’s safety. He had been told by the killers that if the adults did not leave, they would burn down the place. We were stunned. We once again said goodbye to our parents. We were sure they would instantly be killed. As my Mum kept us in her warm embrace, she gave my oldest sister, Denise, two gold necklaces. She told Denise that in case we became hungry, we should sell them to buy food. As every parent grappled with the reality of having to leave their loved ones, they somberly walked out of the orphanage, and as the doors shut behind them, we heard gunshots and as the guns went silent, we knew we had become orphans. For the next three months, my sisters were my new parents. Within a month, I was diagnosed with malnourishment and my days were numbered. My illness rapidly got worse; soon enough, starvation and associated illnesses damaged my skin and teeth. I cried so many tears of pain and distress. Eventually, my tears dried -- nothing could be done. On June 30th, we were relocated to Saint-Michel Cathedral. And on July 4th, the Genocide ended. The Rwanda Patriotic Front had just put an end to the killings that had done away with our loved ones, our dreams, and our belief in humanity. Also, I will forever be grateful to Gisimba for providing a safe haven for us and for Carl Wilken who brought us water during the 100 days. Their kind gestures saved so many lives. For years, I’ve been haunted by the memories of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. The image of a man shot right in the head in front of me at the Gisimba Orphanage kept appearing in my mind. While my parents, three siblings and I surprisingly survived, I wanted to be a survivor -- not a victim. I wanted to repress all the haunting memories. But in April 2011, some 17 years later, I couldn’t do it anymore. The massive energy needed to conceal my trauma broke and I broke down too. I had to revisit the four-year-old girl who had been terrorized for months and seen cold-blooded murders left and right. Initially, diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), I turned bitter and angry. I went from being scared and anxious to severely depressed. I weighed 100 pounds and I felt as though I had fallen into a ditch; a deep hole full of all kinds of evil thoughts. I began to question my existence, contemplating suicide not once or twice but countless times. I felt helpless, hopeless--no purpose left in life. With the support of my family and professional counseling, I was able to get the help I needed to overcome my trauma. But I can’t say it was overnight or completely cured. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. I have come to terms with the invisible scars that will continue to heal my wounds. In reality… nothing will ever erase or repair what unfolded in 1994 The Genocide against the Tutsi took a million lives and approximately 100 of those lives were my own grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins. It takes time for wounds to heal; most likely, it will take generations. However, in my country, we have tried to find lasting solutions through inherent values that are informed by forgiveness, faith, unity and reconciliation When moments are tough, I am often reminded of remarks I heard from, H.E President Paul Kagame during the 17th Commemoration of the Genocide against the Tutsi and he said: “Let us support them and support each other. Let’s face our challenges together. Let us confront those who look down on us, and lift ourselves up. Let us fight with the consequences of our history and Triumph. Let’s persevere together so that we can build a better future for Rwandans because it is possible – we cannot wait for anyone to do this for us. The most important thing is truth, dignity, and that enduring Rwandan spirit – the spirit that must never die. 27 years ago, no one would have believed that our country would recover and rise from the ruins. Today, we, Rwandans have made significant progress against all odds. We are an example to the rest of the world that it is possible to rebuild a broken nation. I would be remiss if we did not express gratitude to the youth that picked up arms to save us. Many sacrificed their lives for us to be alive today. Join me, as I stand here today and pray for every Rwandan, who is healing from a life left by the Genocide’s ‘visible and invisible’ scars. And I stand and pray today for the world’s children, especially those who while alive are surrounded by loss, violence and trauma. Let us condemn all the deniers of the Genocide against the Tutsi so we give dignity to the deceased and respect the survivors. Author Linda Melvern says it best, “The purpose of denial is to destroy truth and memory. The denial of the genocide against the Tutsi causes the gravest offence to survivors. It denies the dignity of the deceased and mocks those who survived. The 1994 genocide of the Tutsi is not an event commemorated once a year for the survivors. For them, this is something they live with every single day in their grief, pain, and anger. For them, genocide is a crime with no end.” This testimony was delivered by Ms Mugabo at the event to mark the 27th Commemoration of the Genocide against the Tutsi which was held at the African Union headquarters in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on April 7, 2021.
