How I Survived the Genocide Against the Tutsi: My Long Journey to German Darkness and Back

By Thomas Mazimpaka

In this book, How I Survived the Genocide Against the Tutsi: My Long Journey to German Darkness and Back, we face the terrible conditions in which the Tutsis lived for nearly thirty years, whether they were those who fled Rwanda in the late fifties or those who remained in the country. Its about the massive persecutions, the anxieties, the fear of being killed, then, for the author, the flight to Germany. But the arrival in this country also brought its share of difficulties: bureaucracy, racism, and isolation in homes of asylum seekers. Then begins another daily fight for survival. The author struggles not to abandon himself. He also discovers the goodwill of some Germans who help him not to sink into depression. Finally, after almost eight years of waiting without being granted the coveted political refugee status, he will finally withdraw his asylum application and return to his country after the genocide that decimated more than one million Tutsi in a hundred days, in order to participate in its reconstruction. It is a topical and shocking testimony.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984518637

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Copyright © 2018 by Thomas Mazimpaka.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2018903888

ISBN:                  Hardcover                       978-1-9845-1865-1

                           Softcover                        978-1-9845-1864-4

                           eBook                              978-1-9845-1863-7

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Rev. date: 04/16/2018

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Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

The War Broke Out

The Escape

Arrival In Germany

On The Mountain-In-The-Wind

Escape Attempt

Again On The Mountain-In-The-Wind

Work On The Cemetery

In Klingenberg

DEDICATION

To all who perished in the Genocide against the Tutsi

To all who suffered only because they were refugees.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Prof. Casmir Mushongore Rubagumya for his kind editing of my manuscript.

THE WAR BROKE OUT

On Monday evening, the first day of October, 1990, the night approached unusually fast. A heavy rain threatened like it often happens in this part of the world. The sky was so heavily laden with clouds that one expected rain throughout the night. My friend Vedaste and I had an appointment that evening to drink coffee together and, as it was our habit, to discuss a lot of issues. We were good friends since I had come back to my country, about six years before. The evening went very well in the then tallest commercial building of Kigali, called Chez Rubangura, opposite the bus station in Kigali, a huge car park down town. People have just called it the central station, although there is no railway in this small mountainous country of Central Africa. That evening was exceptionally used in order to make plans for the future, as we had hardly ever done it so far. Indeed, we had the same problems. We belonged to the same ethnic minority, the Tutsi, with all the lost hopes, which inevitably accompanied that affiliation. In addition, we were single and almost of the same age, just over thirty. His openness and his warmth awakened repeatedly the need in me to meet with him and talk openly about everything. A new girlfriend was the most important topic of the day. The summer before, he had met a girl who had caught his eye. She was a student in a technical high school somewhere at the end of her secondary school. At that time, she worked as an intern in the same company as Vedaste. Vedaste was the travel department manager in Amirwanda, one of the largest companies of Rwanda. Both had worked together throughout the summer although she was working in another department, the accounting department. The rare thing in their relationship was not the love at first sight, as the story was openly told to me, but was related to the already taboo ethnic relations between the two best-known ethnic groups in Rwanda, the Hutu and the Tutsi. These were times when the Tutsi and the Hutu were no longer living in harmony. The Hutu represent the majority of the Rwandan population. They had gained political power some thirty years back, which had previously, over many centuries, been in the hands of the Tutsi. Since then, everything which is relevant in daily life in Rwanda could not escape from the sad fate of history, even the best in human relationship, namely love. The girl was a member of the Hutu ethnic group. Respective affiliations played a greater role than any other natural or social elements in order to get along with each other. That was the sad fact. In our conversation, we did not talk openly about it because it was a taboo subject. A busy café, as it was the case, could be a dangerous place where one should preferably avoid talking about the thorny problems in the country.

Vedaste would not talk about the girl’s ethnic group. It would have been just reckless because we were sitting in a public place. A busy café was not the right place to talk about such things because you never knew who was listening. The most diverse subjects on socio-political issues which were undermining the country were also expressly avoided. It turned out that many well paid informers were waiting around in such public places. Their reports led to nocuous consequences for those who dared to make the slightest criticism of the Hutu military regime.

Everyone was aware of this practice, especially the Tutsi who were the most threatened group. So it would not have been wise to pour oil on the fire.

The only element in our discussion that referred to the ethnicity of the possible future wife of Vedaste was her kinship with the director of that company. This meant that the girl belonged automatically to the Hutu ethnic group. It was well known that a company, such as the one in which Vedaste was working for, had to be led by a Hutu. The few exceptions, as they exist throughout history, were publicly known, at least of all Tutsi living in Rwanda.

Our evening, which in normal circumstances would have been a normal and comfortable one, was not an ordinary evening. This day had already gone in the history of Rwanda because this was the day RPF soldiers invaded Rwanda from Uganda. It was already dark when we left that café. In order to escape from the threatening rain, I had to rush to one of the so-called taxis, actually minibuses, to Remera, a district of Kigali city where I lived. Vedaste took also a taxi towards Nyamirambo, a popular district of Kigali where he lived.

When I arrived at the bus station, all the seats were occupied in the taxis, but I discovered my friend John among the taxi drivers. He allowed me to seat in a narrow space right behind him. He did it not only because of the apparent necessity, but he had the hottest news of the day on the tongue and he did not want to miss the opportunity to inform me. He was a Tutsi and this affiliation was noticeable in all social areas: friendship, partnership, cooperation ... No one could overlook these cold or warm relations between the two ethnic groups, otherwise acute danger lurked for those who ignored these historical relations. We drove off without any private conversation, although he was a talkative fellow by nature and it remained like that all the way to Remera, a distance about seven kilometers. When we reached the bus stop where I had to get out, it had already begun to thunder and there was lightning, but without heavy rain yet. Only a few big drops were drumming on the roof of the minibus and were clearly audible with an irregular rhythm. This offered unexpectedly a favorable condition to talk about the sensitive topic, because, unfortunately, against our expectation, they were still many passengers in the minibus. Those taxis were also known as a dangerous public place. The car stopped, and while some passengers got out, John took an opportunity to whisper to me:

- Mu Mutara biracika!: - In Mutara, the situation is highly explosive!

Mutara is a northern region of Rwanda, and in my mother tongue, he had said something to me which left no doubt: There was fierce fighting!

This hour was indeed what we had been waiting for, and now it had come. Instantly, I understood and grasped his hand with pressure, as if it was to congratulate him, yes as if it was already our victory. Still hand in hand, without any word from me, he continued: Today I’ve been working in the Kibungo-line, and just an hour ago I was in Kayonza. All taxis were systematically searched by uniformed and heavily armed military, such as in a state of war. The other taxi drivers then told me that war had broken out in the North. Kibungo is a town in the eastern part of Rwanda and Kayonza is between Kibungo and Kigali at the main road to the North, to Uganda, and to the East, to Tanzania.

I anxiously watched if anyone could have heard us, but I realized that no one took notice of our conversation. Then I let go his hand, said goodbye to him and got out as the last at this bus stop called Shell, not far from Rukiri I where I was living.

There was no doubt, if it really were a war then I guessed which war it was. Or should at this moment a neighboring country have attacked my country due to some unknown reasons? But no, because John had come from the North, I knew that the Tutsi who lived in the neighboring countries as Rwandan refugees for over thirty years had returned with weapons on their shoulders. Yes, I was sure. All along we had known this would happen sooner or later; the only thing we did not know was the day or the hour.

That was the last time I saw John.

From the bus stop to my apartment, it was a five minute walk. On the way, I do not remember to have met a living soul. My thoughts were entirely concentrated on the old and the possible future course of history of Rwanda that I could not have noticed any one.

Since three years, I shared an apartment with Leon. He was also single and mostly single young men lived in shared apartments because it saved all sorts of housing costs, but also two or three young men could afford a bigger and nicer apartment. Leon had studied computer sciences and had worked in a state-owned insurance company as a computer scientist. A few months before he had resigned because of poor working conditions that accompanied the Tutsi affiliation in some state-owned companies. Now he wanted to work with his brother who had opened a promising business in the construction sector.

Since a short time, we also lived with Alois who had come from Cyangugu, a region in the southwestern part of the country, where he had been a teacher for two years. He had resigned in similar circumstances as Leon. He had previously worked for over fifteen years in the University of Lubumbashi, Zaire, as a psychology lecturer. There, he had met Leon, who had once been his student. He had recently received a new job as a teacher at a private school in Kigali. He was already over fifty, married and had four children. However, his family had initially to remain in Cyangugu, where the children attended school in the Zairian neighboring town Bukavu. Sending his children in a Rwandan school would have brought serious consequences for them as there were huge differences between the school system of Zaire and Rwanda.

Moreover Alois wanted to check first if after one year the conditions would allow him to settle with his family in Kigali. So it was not a problem for the time being to live with us for that time he needed to feel financially comfortable and choose a suitable apartment.

When I arrived, neither Leon nor Alois were at home. They had the habit to come home late evening, although darkness comes abruptly in this tropical area. The sun appears always on the horizon at six in the morning and disappears at six in the evening and this throughout the whole year.

Leon often spent his evenings with his girlfriend or his relatives. Alois normally spent his evenings in a bar, which was not unusual for many men living in Kigali. Almost all men had three known addresses, namely the apartment, the work place and then the bar. That night, both arrived home quite early. It had already begun to rain heavily, then Alois came.

Before I could tell him something about the news, he had already anticipated the same story. We did not yet know each other enough to talk openly about all those complicated and sensitive matters. Therefore, the discussions about the sick Rwandan society were still taboo between us. Only with trusted persons and behind tightly closed doors one could dare to address the issue. The usual rule was that everyone distrusted everyone. Knowing that social injustice prevailed was not a problem and did not disturb the political rulers, but talking about it was automatically considered as criticism and therefore punishable. The time was ripe now to talk to each other about it.

So Alois told me: I just come from a bar, where people have genuine news. They discussed among themselves and I have followed everything with particular interest. I was now looking forward and was impatient to wait for the short time he needed to take off and wipe his glasses before he continued: The Hutu from Gisenyi sitting in the bar said that our country has been attacked by Inyenzi since this afternoon. I was expecting from him exactly what he said. Inyenzi used to be the name of Tutsi rebels who had several times tried to attack Rwanda in the early sixties from the neighboring countries in order to reconquering the lost power by the Tutsi but did not succeed.

Almost all Hutu from Gisenyi, a region in the western part of the country, where the then President of the Republic was born, had very good relationship with the secret service and most of them were unofficial collaborators. I told him before he made additional comments that I had already heard something about that attack, but without further details. This additional information brought me a firmer conviction that John was right. He had in fact been close to the suspected war region. Then I told Alois about my version and the circumstances under which I had received the same news. But Alois then told me in a thoughtful tone: Thomas, you have always been talking about a possible war in this country. I think it is a serious matter this time. The Hutu in the bar seemed to be very worried.

We discussed only that issue that evening. We speculated about the whole situation and the possible development, always with the hope that it would come forward in favor of the Tutsi refugees. Their victory would be anyway a really release for all Tutsi in the country, but also for some Hutu who suffered under the dictatorial regime would benefit from this attack. No force within the country would have toppled that regime.

Leon came about one hour later and had not been informed. He followed our stories with the utmost attention and he was amazed but he wondered not having noticed any particular sign on the street. The news on the national broadcasting radio said nothing about the attack. The rest of the evening was normal.

The next morning looked just like any other morning. After the rainy night, the day was very sunny under a crystal clear sky. Each of us went about his business as usual without any striking peculiarity until one o’clock in the afternoon. Then the first reports came. The national radio announced that the country’s President Office and the Department of Defense were forced to take strict security measures because of the country security: A state of emergency was imposed from 7 pm until 5 am on the whole country’s territory. All employers had to issue special employment certificates to their employees in Kigali, which should be confirmed by local authorities. The working hours in the country were laid from 8 am to 4 pm nonstop until further notice… The outbreak of the war was indirectly confirmed by these suddenly imposed measures. However, no clear statement on the possible Tutsi invasion was announced by state authorities. An incredible panic spread among the population.

About one year before, I had taken a job in a new company. The factory was owned by a Belgian, Mr. Degroot, who had worked over twenty-five years as a bank managing director in Rwanda. After his deserved retirement, he decided to start a small family business in Rwanda whose manager he was at the same time. The company was not a small one compared to the prevailing economic conditions in Rwanda. It employed thirty permanent employees. I was the finance director and occasionally, I helped Mr. Degroot in administrative work, alongside with the secretary, who dealt with personnel matters. The rest of the workforce was distributed among the technical departments. In addition to the cardboard manufacture, the company produced also envelopes and various kinds of paper that were sold at wholesale price. So far, everything was going very well for the company and for me. We had many customers all over the country. Fortunately, I lived not far from my work place so that I sometimes went to work on foot, even before the war outbreak. It took me twenty minutes to walk to work. Only for the lunch break I used public transport, because the sun is always most hitting at that time. The then abolished lunch break lasted two hours, from 12 am to 2 pm. In general, most workers went home in this 2 hour break.

On that evening, we listened to first detailed reports only from foreign broadcasters about the war in Rwanda. It became clear to me that the Tutsi refugees had resorted to weapons. Some names of the commanders were announced that evening. We heard for the first time that the commander was Major-General Fred Rwigema, one of the utmost dreaded Tutsi by the dictatorial regime in Kigali. Then it became clear to me that the country was facing a long lasting and unpredictable war. The new name of armed rebels was Inkotanyi instead of Inyenzi.

Behind that attack stood a long historical suffering of a people. Perhaps a historic departure, a historical turning point had begun at that particular moment.

Rwanda is a small country in Central Africa between Tanzania in the East, Burundi, also a small country with a similar history, culture, ethnic groups and customs as Rwanda, in the South, Congo (former Zaire) in the West and Uganda in the North. Rwanda has always been, as far as the history is known from oral tradition, ruled by the Tutsi. The country was a monarchy. The written history begins in the mid-19th century.

Basically Tutsi were cattle herders and the Hutu were farmers. There is another ethnic group, the Batwa, which represents a very small minority and they were hunters and lived isolated because they were almost ostracized by the two other groups. They originate from the race of pygmies. The Tutsi had not only the political and military power, because the monarchy had a very well organized army, but also the best land and the cattle. The cattle herds were namely the most valuable asset in the country. The Hutu were almost exclusively subject to the Tutsi, although there were some Hutu who had their own land and cattle.

At the end of the 19th century, the first Europeans or the first men of the white race came to Rwanda. At the same time, the first Catholic missionaries settled in Rwanda. Compared to coastal areas of tropical Africa, Rwanda was reached much later by the Europeans, because of its geographical inaccessibility. There were neither roads nor navigable ways to Rwanda.

The first contacts of the missionaries with the population took place without any major incidents, so that evangelization in the country met with no resistance. The first schools were built at the beginning of the 20th century, fully supported and run by the white missionaries. Rwanda became a German protectorate for a short time and was part of the former German East Africa until the end of the First World War. Since then the Belgians ruled over the country until the country’s independence in July 1962. Throughout the colonial period, the Tutsi ruled with the two respective colonial powers, so that the monarchy remained intact in that period; only modern management methods were introduced. Politically, Hutu remained a group of second class citizens. The Belgians preferred then the Tutsi with the arguments that they were smarter and more intelligent than the Hutu. At the beginning of the fifties, schools became accessible to all ethnic groups without any distinction and were spread nationwide, even if they were relatively few. However before that time, they were exclusively reserved for a particular class of Tutsi. The living conditions were also improved. Hospitals, administrative buildings, roads and all sorts of infrastructure were constructed. The other religious communities were also established, especially the protestants as well as other smaller communities, like the Adventists, which also actively participated in the country’s development. But the country was and is still predominantly Catholic.

The first horrific events in the history of Rwanda took place in the year 1959. In July of that year, King Mutara III Rudahigwa died in Burundi under circumstances which remained mysterious until today.

King Mutara III Rudahigwa had begun purposefully to introduce the Hutu in the highest administrative positions and was already at that time considered as a visionary democrat. His younger brother, Kigeli V. Ndahindurwa came a few days later after Mutara’s death, as a legitimate successor to the throne.

Before the independence Ruanda-Urundi, which have since been separated into Rwanda and Burundi, was a single territory under the Belgian administration. All political decisions came from the central government in Usumbura, which became Bujumbura after the independence on July 1, 1962.

In that year 1959, the political unrest led to chaotic social conditions, which is referred to in the history of Rwanda as the revolution. The Belgians distanced themselves clearly and suddenly from the Tutsi and helped the Hutu to come to power. The Catholic Church played a very active role as an influential institution in the country in the unrest phase. The majority in the country should no longer be oppressed by the minority, they argued. But this was the trigger of a mad feverish hatred whose disastrous consequences are still obvious today. The incurred wounds remain unfortunately fresh after many years. The assault guns, machetes and spears were basically distributed by foreign ecclesiastical authorities to the Hutu peasants to fight the Tutsi effectively. There were unforgettable, brutal massacres.

From that time, the Tutsi begun their long ordeal. Many of them were killed, whether they were male, heavily pregnant women or children. Some Tutsi women were spared from death, but were victims of rapes committed by the Hutu. Tutsi houses were looted and then set on fire, so that many burned in then mostly thatched houses. The work, as the Hutu called the killing of Tutsi and particularly the house-burning, took place mostly during the night. The best solution that saved many Tutsi was to flee to neighboring countries. The young king had also to flee, which meant the end of many centuries of the monarchy.

However, a large number of Tutsi remained in the country despite the threat. At some point, the strategy of the Hutu was not to kill the Tutsi, but only to drive them out of the country. The majority of the Hutu farmers did not want to continue to slaughter their innocent Tutsi neighbors mercilessly. But when it came to the possible dispossession of Tutsi neighbors in Hutu’s own interest, the method proved to be extremely effective.

The first major exodus phase calmed down with the Independence of Rwanda on July 1, 1962. The Tutsi who remained in country lived despite the apparent calm under the pressure of fear and humiliation. Thousands of them, who had left hastily their properties and stayed in safe places inside the country, mostly in churches, did never get back their properties. Their possessions were arbitrarily handed over to the Hutu neighbors. The dispossessed were then sent to that time inaccessible forest area, Nyamata. Some of them died from predators or poor living conditions. They have lived for years as refugees in their own country in refugee camps. The international humanitarian organizations supported them until they were again able to rebuild their lives.

Even those who could keep their possessions, including my father, were constantly harassed. In addition, there was often aggravating circumstances which made the situation for all Tutsi in the country even more precarious. During different Inyenzi- attacks, there were massive persecutions up to cruel killings of Tutsi still living in the country. My father, Desire Nyembagizi, was arrested several times and spent several months in prison under the false accusation of having been an accomplice of the Inyenzi rebels. As a young boy, I experienced several house searches, which were carried out very late in the night. All children were forced to get up and everything from the attic to our mattresses was ransacked. As I heard later, their searches were about weapons. The last biggest attack by Inyenzi took place in 1966. I was eight years old. In these circumstances, I grew up in a situation in which there was a strong tension between the Tutsi and the Hutu led government.

I remember that a special permit was needed in this small country to travel from one region to another. That procedure was very strictly controlled and it was very difficult for a Tutsi to obtain that travel permit. All over the country were supervised roadblocks. Traveling abroad was almost impossible for a Tutsi because it was almost impossible to get a passport until mid-eighties. Thus the Tutsi were prisoners in their own country for years.

The Tutsi refugees in neighboring countries tried the best as they could to adapt themselves to the extremely poor new living conditions. They had to live in refugee camps too. But after a few years, they overcame the first difficulties. However, many died from various diseases or attacks by wild animals. The survivors made their diligent work so that those areas became soon attractive. One found primary and secondary schools there, especially in Burundi, which were run by the Tutsi themselves. Anyway children born abroad generally received a better school education than those who remained in Rwanda. But, over years, many of young Tutsi in Rwanda crossed over illegally to neighboring countries, especially to Zaire, and they managed to study there. Tutsi abroad used their chances and could get desirable jobs. However, they were hated or envied in these different countries, but also sometimes loved. In Uganda, they could even be incorporated into the army. Most of those who were not lucky to get school education were integrated into the army, especially in the eighties, in which Uganda consisted of many rival armed rebel groups.

They have proved to be militarily capable and disciplined so that some of them could reach the highest ranks.

The next huge exodus of young Tutsi occurred in the year 1973 when considerable unrest in high schools and in the university was triggered by politicians with the only goal to expel the few Tutsi from schools. There were many deaths and injuries among the Tutsi students and teachers. In some areas there were also clashes among the civilian population, but it all began in the schools.

After the so-called revolution in 1959, this period was then the second terrible phase in the history of coexistence of the two ethnic groups in Rwanda. The extent of the massive killings or looting was not comparable to those that occurred at the beginning of sixties. Once again, many young people had to flee the country. I was among them, because that is the time I crossed over to Burundi. The existence of the Tutsi in the country was once again questioned. Once again, the Catholic Church behaved negatively towards the Tutsi.

Although the massacres against the Tutsi were kept within limits, Tutsi employees were dismissed from their jobs following a government order. The dismissed Tutsi were listed by occupation and addresses. The lists were put up at the office or company entrances of the respective work places without any signature on it. Those who were on the list were automatically dismissed which led thousands of Tutsi to lose their jobs in this way. Most private employers were foreigners and, although they were perfectly aware of the oppression of the Tutsi, they were not allowed to contradict the government decision. This would mean interfering in internal political matters.

In case no competent Hutu employee was found, the dismissed Tutsi was obliged to train the proposed Hutu successor. The training could last for months, until the new candidate became fully capable to take over the position. Only then the poor loser would leave. Suddenly there was no protection for the Tutsi. The Tutsi who had a good education did not hesitate to flee abroad in order to start something new there. In Burundi, they were welcomed generously. After 1973, the Tutsi became a strong and large community abroad.

After 1973, the time the President Habyarimana took power in a coup, Rwanda became a relatively flourishing economy because it benefited from financial support from the international community. Rwanda was nicknamed the Switzerland of Africa, but the president was called a dictator. The injustices and the fears in the country increased gradually, even among the Hutu themselves. The regional split between the North and the South became a serious concern. The dictatorship prevailed slowly and a monarchy-like power emerged, what the Rwandan commonly called Akazu, a small house,