Genocide Lives in Us: Women, Memory, and Silence in Rwanda

Conclusion

213 Every Rwan­ dan has a story to tell about the war, the gen­ o­ cide, or their after­ math. I heard one such story when I vis­ ited a ­ friend’s fam­ ily in Ki­ gali in July 2011. The ­ brother, ­ Olivier, ­ worked in in­ for­ ma­ tion tech­ nol­ ogy for a large Rwan­ dan com­ pany. He was mar­ ried and had a young child. The young­ est sib­ ling, Marie, ­ worked for the Ki­ gali head­ quar­ ters of an inter­ na­ tional com­ pany. They spoke ­ fluent En­ glish, ­ dressed in nice cloth­ ing, and had smart ­ phones ­ equipped with the Inter­ net: they were young urban pro­ fes­ sion­ als ­ firmly en­ sconced in the new mid­ dle class. They em­ bod­ ied the “high mod­ er­ nity” fet­ ish­ ized in ­ Rwanda today (C. New­ bury 2011, 224–26; Scott 1998, 4–5). On my sec­ ond visit to their home, they ex­ tolled the vir­ tues of ­ Rwanda under the lead­ er­ ship of Pres­ i­ dent Paul Ka­ game and the RPF: “Rwanda is a se­ cure coun­ try. There is no crime. It is very safe. So many foreign­ ers come here to visit, to do busi­ ness. The coun­ try is de­ vel­ op­ ing. We have nice build­ ings, we have nice ­ streets. Look at our ­ street [mo­ tion­ ing to the road in Con­ clu­ sion 214 Conclusion front of their house, which had been paved in cob­ ble­ stones in the past year]. If you work hard, you can get ahead.” I could not dis­ agree with them. The­ things they cited—per­ sonal se­ cur­ ity, ­ foreign in­ ves­ tors, ­ business-friendly pol­ i­ cies, new build­ ings, and paved ­ streets—were em­ pir­ i­ cal re­ al­ ities I had wit­ nessed with my own eyes. But I was sur­ prised by their pos­ i­ tive at­ ti­ tude given what I knew about the fam­ ily. Their ­ father had spent many years in­ prison ac­ cused of gen­ o­ cide. An im­ por­ tant fig­ ure in the Hab­ ya­ ri­ mana govern­ ment, he died less than two years after he was found in­ no­ cent and re­ leased from ­ prison. He spent his last years de­ bil­ i­ tated by ill­ ness ag­ gra­ vated by years of poor con­ di­ tions in ­ prison. Only min­ utes be­ fore, Marie had asked me for help ap­ ply­ ing to an ­ American uni­ ver­ sity so that she could leave­ Rwanda. So I asked, “If ­ Rwanda is so won­ der­ ful, why do so many Rwan­ dans leave if they find a ­ chance?” They ­ looked at each other, then ­ laughed ner­ vously. They ex­ plained, “It’s the ­ things we lived ­ through. It’s not that we want to leave for­ ever. [pause] It’s, it’s, to have a way to get out if . . .” I under­ stood what they left un­ said: every Rwan­ dan wants an es­ cape route in case­ things go badly. A sec­ ond cit­ i­ zen­ ship in Eu­ rope, Can­ ada, or the ­ United ­ States is an in­ su­ rance pol­ icy. After an un­ com­ fort­ able si­ lence, ­ Olivier tried to ex­ plain ­ Marie’s de­ sire to leave: “Did you know she was lost in the Congo for five years?” ­ Stunned, I re­ plied, “No.” Speak­ ing in En­ glish, Marie re­ counted her sur­ vi­ val story: Yeah. It’s true. [Ner­ vous laugh.] When they at­ tacked the camp, I was lost. I was only six [years old]. The Red Cross found me and put me in a cen­ ter [for un­ ac­ com­ pa­ nied mi­ nors]. Luck­ ily, I knew my name, the names of my peo­ ple, where I was from. So many of the other chil­ dren ­ didn’t know any­ thing. They had no way to be found. They were lost for­ ever. At least I had some hope. My par­ ents had ­ taught me these ­ things. Every day I ­ looked at the lists, hop­ ing to find a name I knew. After many ­ months a fam­ ily from Ma­ sisi ­ adopted me and my cou­ sin. They took us to their farm in the bush, the real bush. As the young­ est and the only girl [among her sib­ lings], I was so ­ spoiled. Then, there I was in the bush, in the dirt...