The Terrible Truth about the Truth: A story of a Tutsi Rwandan genocide survivor - When home doesn't feel like home, and when abroad feels far from home

By Emma Kay

The Terrible Truth About the Truth is an all-in-one dramatic, romantic, horrific true story, not without some humour. As a Tutsi who experienced a number of close calls during the Tutsi genocide conducted by extremists Hutus, Emma identifies herself as a Tutsi and a genocide survivor, but many of her compatriots question that reality.

Throughout this book, Emma shares her story about a challenged relationship with her Hutu partner, their search for inclusion in their own community, and their rejection by their own people.

This book describes Emma and Mike's bumpy and nearly deadly journeys, as well as the terrible conditions they found themselves in, before and after the night of April 6, 1994, when President Habyarimana's plane was shot down, until President Kagame's victory day on July 4, 1994.

Although three months don't sound like a long time, they are long enough for Emma to lose almost everyone and everything. Mike and Emma will have to start life from scratch, surprisingly with optimism and hope. Unfortunately, it doesn't take long before Emma and Mike start to realize that the end of the genocide doesn't mean the end of their troubles, the epiphany that would drive them into their exile.

Now the question is: Will Emma and Mike's dream of becoming Canadian citizens come true? Or are they once again about to face the terrible truth about the truth, as per Lucky Dube's song lyrics: "If you stand for the truth, you will always stand alone!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Oct 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9780228861317

Emma Kay

Emma is a post-graduate historian and former senior museum worker. Now, food historian, author and prolific collector of Kitchenalia. She lives in the Cotswolds with her husband and young son. Her articles have appeared in publications including BBC History Magazine, The Daily Express, Daily Mail and Times Literary Supplement. She has contributed historic food research for a number of television production companies and featured several times on Talk Radio Europe, BBC Hereford and Worcester, BBC Coventry and Warwickshire and LifeFM.In 2018 she appeared in a ten-part series for the BBC and Hungry Gap Productions, 'The Best Christmas Food Ever' and on BBC Countryfile, co-presenting a feature exploring the heritage of the black pear. She has delivered talks for Bath Literature Festival, Stroud Book Festival, 1 Royal Crescent, Bath, The Women’s Institute and Freckleton Library among others.Emma has had six books published including: Dining with the Georgians (2014), Dining with the Victorians (2015), Cooking up History: Chefs of the Past (2017), Vintage Kitchenalia (2017), More than a Sauce: A Culinary History of Worcestershire (2018), Stinking Bishops and Spotty Pigs: A History of Gloucestershire's Food and Drink (2019). She is currently researching for several new titles.Emma is a member of The Guild of Food Writers.

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The Terrible Truth about the Truth

Copyright © 2022 by Emma Kay

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-6130-0 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-6129-4 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-6131-7 (eBook)

Dedication

This book is especially dedicated to my friend, Patrick Muchuge. Patrick, you were the first person I ever trusted, and you never disappointed me. Without you, Mike could have been stuck in Kenya, where he may have been killed by Kagame’s men, the same way they killed Seth Sendashonga. Thank you for being my shoulder to cry on. I know I am not the only Rwandan you helped. In fact, you didn’t help me because I was Emma, you helped me because I was a human being in need. Thank you for your loving heart and thank you for taking the long trip to visit us in Windsor, Ontario, Canada, and sorry for what happened. I know you were excited when I told you I was going to write a book. Sorry it took forever, but better late than never.

My book is also dedicated to the few Rwandans who choose to stand for the truth and denounce all criminals regardless of who they are. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Professor Philippe Basabose for his great work in educating us Rwandans on the topic of genocide and for tirelessly fighting and advocating for genocide survivors.

I will take this opportunity to express my compassion for any men, women, or children who feel misunderstood or judged because they are in mixed marriages or are the fruits of those marriages.

This book is also dedicated to the undocumented immigrants with good faith. You must be one to understand what they go through.

Last but not least, I dedicate this book to all my family members whether living or not, mentioned or not mentioned in this book:

Let me start with my beloved husband, my beautiful and lovely daughters, my current and future grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to-be. This book is dedicated to you all. In fact, as much as I wish my dad had written a book to fill the void I still feel after his passing, I hope my book fills that void when I am gone.

And I dedicate this book to my father Ephraïm Kayijuka and my mother Adèle Akomotse. When he was young, my cousin Thomas (alias Kabari) used to brag about how his dad Ntagisasa was smart for marrying his mom Evelyne, whom he believed to be the best mother in the whole world. Kabari used to say that he always wondered what his life would have been like if Evelyne had not been his mom. Just like Kabari, I often wonder what I did for God to deserve the best parents in the whole world. I speak about my parents mostly in the introduction of this book and reveal more about my dad in Chapter 5.

Gombaniro was my oldest brother killed during the genocide, along with his six children and his wife. This book is dedicated to Gombaniro and his family.

Simeon is my second-oldest brother. He lives in Canada. Very pleased to have you, brother! We always have good times together and I love your sense of humour. Very proud of you and your lovely, kind, and unparalleled wife, Vidah, my charming nephew Rugina, and exceptionally beautiful nieces Nicole and Noeline. Really blessed to have you as my family. I am particularly proud of my niece Noeline for recently graduating with her Doctorate in Nurse Anesthesiology! This book is dedicated to you and your family.

Although I didn’t have a chance to know my brother Issacar, since he died before I was born, I still love him, and I am happy to dedicate this book to him.

Jason is my third-oldest brother. He lives in Brussels, Belgium. Love you, Jason, uraho wamfura we? I love how you make me laugh. Your great sense of humour is contagious! How boring life would be without you, brother! So proud of my nephew Frank-Fatum and his wife Apoline’s accomplishments! Looking forward to meeting with little Isaac, my beautiful nieces Aésone, Vanella, and the forever cutie girl, Marcelle. Kudos to you and Evelyne for raising great children.

My oldest sister. Despite her infernal life in Rwanda, holding tight and raising her Bible, my sister always says to President Kagame and his co-oppressors, There is God in Heaven! Sister, you don’t belong to our family alone! You belong to the country, and you are greatly admired by many. I am really, really proud of you.

Samuel (alias Safari), a special brother to me. Read more about Safari mainly in Chapter 5. My dearest brother, I will always love you and I thank God for giving me a brother like you. Very happy to dedicate this book to you, brother.

Tabitha is my older sister, close to me in age. I talked about our childhood together in this book. Tabitha lives in Canada. Hi, sister! Very blessed to have you. You are a very good listener, and I always value your advice. Praise the Lord for your better-half, William, and my awesome nephew Irakoze (alias Adou) and my lovely niece Singiza and her amazing husband Anthony. Blessed to have you guys as my family and I always appreciate our time together! Sister, keep up the good fight and your much needed advocacy for Rwandan refugees. I am pretty sure God is about to return our country back to us.

Ben is my younger brother and partner in crime. I often mention Ben in my book. Ben is a great singer-songwriter, and an author of a must-read book available on online, De l’Enfer à l’Enfer. I am hoping for it to be my next project as I so badly want it to be published in English. Stay Tuned. Ben has a beautiful wife, three terrific sons, and a beautiful and exceptionally musically talented daughter, Leah, alias Shekinah. Please check out her song on YouTube Didn’t Get Enough and you will learn even more about Ben, some of which I was unable to cover in my book. I thank God every day for giving me such a beautiful family. Dear family, I dedicate this book to you.

Dr. François Nyagasaza was my favourite uncle who lived in exile (Burundi) with my brothers and sister. He eventually went to Sénégal to continue his studies where he obtained his doctorate in medical studies. He came back to Rwanda hoping he could find a job, but being Tutsi, he never found one. My uncle was killed with my mom at my parents’ home during the genocide of Tutsis. I dedicate this book to my uncle.

Last but not least, Thaciana was my favourite aunt, and the older sister of Dr. Nyagasaza. She was killed during the genocide along with her husband, and three of their beautiful children. They are survived by a daughter and two sons. Their daughter has two terrific boys and a husband, the cool uncle, according to my children. Hi nephews, I miss you terribly!

Acknowledgments

A special thanks to my youngest daughter, Megan-Alexa for always being there when I needed help. Thank you, Megan-Alexa, for your patience, valuable advice, and helpful tools. Without you, this project was going to be harder if not impossible to accomplish. I can’t thank you enough for the time you put into making and editing my YouTube posts to not only advertise my book, but also to advocate for persecuted Rwandans. My wish is to be able to help you bring your writing passion and music to fruition in the near future.

Eric Bye, I will never be able to fully express my gratitude to someone as kind as you! It hasn’t been a week, I was extremely worried for I couldn’t think of someone who could help me move forward with my most important project that had been on hold for months. Putting your travel plans and everything else aside to make my book publishing dreams come true in less than a week and working days and nights until finished meant the whole world to me. Thank you for your kindness and the love you give to others without expecting anything back since this is not the first time I have witnessed this great quality from you. God bless you, your family and everyone else you cherish.

Noeline, thank you very much for taking the initiative to help in improving my manuscript despite your busy schedule that interfered with the advancement of a so-much-needed contribution. Your involvement showed me how much you care about my success. Also, I should mention that even though you were exceptionally involved in this project, I can’t ignore the input of your sister Nicole, and your English-speaking cousins Singiza and Irakoze. Every constructive feed-back I received from each of you enhanced greatly my story; and every word of appreciation made me reassured that my story was worth recounting. I can’t wait to publish the French version of my book to get your French speaking cousins’s involvement since I know they are waiting impatiently for this moment to come so that they can help. I can’t be prouder of my family than I am.

To my daughters, thank you for making me the proudest mom in the whole world. Without your encouragement and honest feed-back, I wouldn’t be as confident as I am about my book. Each one of you contributed in a different way. Some of you proofread my book cover, others read the entire book and gave me valuable advice, others went an extra mile and spread the word of mouth amongst your friends to market my book.

To my husband, thank you for refreshing my fading memory, without you it was going to be impossible to remember many important events that marked more than three decades of our journey together.

To my greatest friend, Louis Rugambage. Although you are not mentioned in my book, you are one of a kind! I always wondered how we are not blood related as I noticed our personalities have a lot in common. You advised me to register for Toastmaster when I told you I was writing a book, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Your love for my brother, Ben, your sleepless nights trying to solve our unsolvable problems, and your many contributions, whether financial or intellectual, when helping my family during our everlasting troubles! What else can I say? May God bless you.

To Achille Kamana, my co-host of the show Tuganire. I am really blessed to have you as a friend and honoured to have such an intellectual show partner. Teamwork has never been this rewarding! I love your energy, your cheerfulness, your optimism, your sense of humour, and I can go on and on… Without your flexibility and understanding, this project would have been hard to accomplish. I truly value our partnership.

To Jean-Paul Turayishimye; it hasn’t been long since we met each other for the first time, but I thank God every day for having you and your gorgeous wife Alice as friends. Thank you for the time and energy you dedicate to advocating for my sister and her family during their never-ending persecutions by President Paul Kagame. Thank you for allowing me to use your radio not only to advertise my book but also to express my feelings and opinions to the world.

I cannot conclude this part of my book without thanking from the bottom of my heart the group of friends and family who spent their valuable time reading my digital review copy, and who gave me their comments. Although I can’t cite your names since I don’t want to forget anyone, your constructive feedback immensely contributed to this project.

And of course, I must acknowledge that had my forever favourite musical artist, Lucky Dube, not existed, I am not sure if this book would have seen the light of day. I can’t forget the night of October 18, 2007, when I received a long-distance call from my brother, singer-songwriter, Ben Rutabana. Although I didn’t expect any good news in a 2:00 a.m. call from France, I didn’t expect it to be about the killing of Lucky Dube by robbers! It was too hard to digest. I couldn’t believe that what he sang about in his song Crime and Corruption had just happened to him! Every time I think about Lucky Dube’s killing, I hear the lyrics of that song in my head. Anyway, whatever happened, Lucky Dube’s aspirations to make the world a better place will happen—whether he is here or not— because of his great work through his artistic talents. While writing The Terrible Truth About the Truth, Lucky Dube’s song You Stand Alone was a source of inspiration.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Introduction

PART I

When Home Doesn’t Feel Like Home

Chapter 1: Mike and I

Chapter 2: Homeless at Home

Chapter 3: A Visit from My Saviour

Chapter 4: An Unusual Coincidence

Chapter 5: Standing for What Is Right

Chapter 6: Three Long Weeks

Chapter 7: The Apocalypse

Chapter 8: An Everlasting Day

Chapter 9: Totally Unexpected

Chapter 10: My Brother Ben Rutabana

Chapter 11: Nowhere to Belong

Chapter 12: A One-way Trip

PART II

When Abroad Feels Far from Home

Chapter 13: A Struggling Immigrant

Chapter 14: My Immigration Hearing

Chapter 15: Never a Dull Moment

Chapter 16: Family Reunion

Chapter 17: The Honourable Brian Masse

Chapter 18: You’ve Got Mail

Chapter 19: Our New Neighbour

Chapter 20: A New Beginning

Chapter 21: From Hell to Heaven

Epilogue

Introduction

My answer always surprises doctors when I say I don’t know my family medical history, since nearly no one in my family was given a chance to die from a natural cause. As a matter of fact, it is impossible for me to recall the most important events that marked my family history without referring to the killing of Tutsis.

For instance, the year 1973 marks the first killings of Tutsis that I personally witnessed even though I was very young. The year 1990 is referred to in this book as the pre-genocide period when Tutsis were being hunted and imprisoned. As for the year 1994, I refer to it as the Apocalypse when I saw the world ending on us during the genocide of Tutsis. Unfortunately, I could go on and on if I were to include the persecutions and killings that many Rwandans, especially my own family members, are presently undergoing.

But even though my life experience from early childhood up to the current day was marked by killing episodes, I consider my childhood otherwise normal, and I have some sweet memories worth recounting in my book.

I was born in Macuba, in the province of Cyangugu, where my dad, Ephraïm Kayijuka, was appointed as a church minister. We were nine children in my family, but I only knew seven siblings, since Issacar, one of my brothers, passed away before I was born. I am the second youngest of my family; Gombaniro was the eldest child in our family, and he was almost twenty years older than I.

As my father explained, the name Gombaniro meant competition and my dad named him after my mom as a reminder of how hard my dad worked to win my mom’s heart amongst several men who hoped to be the winner. Apparently, Aminadab was the most terrifying of my dad’s competitors, and you will soon understand why.

My dad used to describe how beautiful my mom was, and how he used to stress wondering what his life would have been like had he had not won her heart.

My mom, Adèle, was a very reserved person with a strong personality. She was very hardworking and very caring; she was always on top of everything and would make most of the decisions for the family behind the scenes. I remember my grandfather, Dismas, used to say that his life would have been much better if Adèle had been born a boy-1.

We depended on mom for almost everything. My dad was relaxed and easygoing, while my mom was more caring and detail oriented. We would tease my mom about the Aminadab story, and she would smile and tell us how she wasn’t really attracted to our dad as much as she was to Aminadab, which justified my dad’s fears about him.

Aminadab was a villager who never attended school, and he lived with his family a dozen miles away from our house. My siblings and I would laugh about our parents’ story, trying to imagine how miserable we would have been if Aminadab had been our dad.

Gombaniro was my only sibling who didn’t want to stay in school despite my parents’ insistence. I personally didn’t have a chance to live with Gombaniro for long because he moved out to get married when I was still very young.

I must also say that even though a family of eight children sounds overwhelming, it felt as though my younger brother Ben, my older sister Tabitha, and I were the only children in our family.

We, as a trio, were three peas in a pod, often butting heads. I was falling victim to the middle-child syndrome, always finding myself fighting against the rest of the team. I couldn’t have expected anyone to stand with me—not even my mother, since I could see she thought of me as the troublemaker. In fact, I grew up thinking I wasn’t anyone’s favourite. I particularly disliked my older sister, Tabitha, and I thought I had a good reason when I reflect on the worst day of my life when I was only three years old.

I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed that day! I was grumpy and moody, and cried all morning. My mom was busy doing household chores and I felt that she was not giving me enough attention. Knowingly, I kept whining for hours, trying to make my point.

Soon enough, my mom had become irritated by my persistent whining, and cradled me on her back to proceed with her household duties; then finally, I stopped crying. As I was comfortably settling on my mom’s back, my older sister Tabitha grew jealous and started to exhibit aggressive behaviour towards my mom, and they started to argue. I was comfortable and quiet, listening to their argument when I heard Tabitha saying in Kinyarwanda, my native language: N’icyo cyana cyawe uhetse kiragapfa. Which meant I wish for that dumb kid on your back to die.

Oh, my goodness! I couldn’t believe it! I cried my eyes out! Poor mom cuddled me, trying to ease my pain, but I was too hurt to stop. I must have fallen asleep from the shock and exhaustion, otherwise, I cannot remember what stopped me.

I also remember how jealous I felt of Ben because I thought I deserved all the praises he continuously received. I remember the day my mom adopted a puppy! That little animal was life-changing for all of us, and especially for Ben. In fact, the presence of that puppy in our family wiped out Ben’s brain. For every question you would ask Ben or even someone else, Ben would volunteer to be the one who answered, and his answers were always about the puppy! I remember an evening when my mom was looking for a cutting knife but could not find it.

I found it! said Ben. My mom was excited; she could not believe that the knife she had spent hours looking for had just been found by her cutie little boy! I watched all of that and in my head, I thought, Here we go again! Ben is the centre of the universe!

Come here, my sweetheart! You are a lifesaver! Show me where it is hiding! my mom said. Ben took my mom’s hand, brought her into the living room, and pointed at the puppy.

Don’t you see the puppy? My mom was disappointed since she thought it was the knife she had been looking for. And I felt relieved since I was not so ready to hear, yet again, my family bragging about Ben’s accomplishments. With Ben failing at the task by confusing the puppy with the knife, I thought his career as the family celebrity was over. I was wrong! The next morning, Ben became a fortune-teller!

Beware of this King, he is about to get us into big trouble! That was Ben, reading a book upside down. My mom and my dad looked into each other’s eyes.

This is a strong statement from a three-year-old! Let’s see what the future holds for us, said my mom. In fact, it didn’t take much time until Ben’s revelations started to materialize! Or was it a coincidence? The Rwandan coup d’état happened only two weeks later on July 5, 1973. This coup was prepared by Juvénal Habyarimana against Grégoire Kayibanda, and the latter, we believed, was the one Ben referred to as the King; he had ordered for the persecution of Tutsis. Our three eldest siblings were forced into exile in Burundi as a result of continued politically motivated violence against Tutsis, which also interfered with their education. My favourite uncle, François Nyagasaza, had also fled to Burundi, and destiny reunited all of them.

I stayed home with Tabitha, Ben, and Safari, but Safari eventually left us as well and went to Uganda to complete high school and obtain his bachelor’s degree in Business Administration.

Two years later in 1975, my family who had been exiled to Burundi decided to take a very long and perilous trip to come for a short, secret visit. I remember this happening only once. I can’t forget the day Tabitha shouted their names with joy, running outside with her arms in the air ready to hug my brothers Simeon and Jason, my oldest sister, and my uncle Nyagasaza. I was seven at the time, and remember it being lunch time as I was halfway finished eating when I rushed out to hug them with loads of excitement. Unfortunately, I couldn’t satisfy my hugging desires. My brother Simeon was the first and last one I could hug because as soon as he lifted me up and embraced me, I emotionally burst into tears and was unable to continue with the rest.

Spending some time with my family felt like heaven on earth. My favourite moments were the evening prayers. Through Bible study, gospel songs, and prayer every night (especially on Friday evenings and Saturdays) our family was kept in harmony and unity as we tunefully sang our hearts out and praised the Lord. My father unconsciously closed his eyes at the beginning of his favourite song, There Will Be No Dark Valley. I grew up loving my parents and siblings more than I loved myself. We meant everything to each other.

I also remember the beautiful song entitled Amen that my brother Simeon taught us one Friday evening when I was almost five years old; we were preparing a family performance to be presented the following day during divine service at church.

Although my only part of the song was to say Amen, I made sure I sang it as loud as I could, my only intention being to outsing all of my siblings. It worked! It was so rewarding to hear the congregation shouting Amen! at the end of our beautiful performance. I felt it was a huge accomplishment. Indeed, after that performance, I felt like a Hollywood star!

On Saturdays after lunch, the family would all gather at home, talking and laughing out loud about anything and everything. Even my mom, who hardly ever took a break from household chores, would attend those gathering sessions!

Without talking, I would sit in a corner where I could watch everyone’s facial expressions, especially those of my favourite brother, Safari, while listening to their stories. Funny how of all my siblings, I favoured my older brother Safari by far, even though there was a big age gap of five years between us.

I don’t remember if I brought much to the table, but since most of the funny jokes came from our everyday life, the stories were likely to have happened to any family member, including me. Each and every person in my family had a strong sense of humour! Most of them, like my brother Jason, were able to start from nothing and create the most hilarious jokes out of anything. And with every little joke we laughed at, my dad always came up with a funny related true story! Those are the moments I’ve never forgotten and every time I think about family harmony, I think about those moments.

Unfortunately, it was hard to enjoy it because as soon as I started to feel it, it was time for the heartbreaking goodbyes. I spent my whole childhood waiting for those family reunions. They were precious moments, and from what I remember, the entire family being all together never happened again.

My siblings struggled as Burundian refugees. Not only did they not have enough money to satisfy their basic needs, but they were also confronted with the typical daily frustrations of a foreigner. As they would say, even though their everyday life was just hard, at least they were attending schools; that was the most important and only reason why my parents had made arrangements for them to leave the country.

However, even with their penniless situation, my oldest sister brought us bread. I remember eating bread for the very first time. I had never tasted anything so good before, and to this day I wonder what went wrong with bread since I don’t find it nearly as tasty. I was used to having igikoma, a sorghum-based cereal, as breakfast, since according to Doctor Mom igikoma was a good source of iron. It was also only very lightly sweetened, and mom said sugar was bad for us, but I always thought she was doing it more for economic reasons, rather than advocating for healthy habits.

Leaving Rwanda as a family was very risky and it wasn’t my dad’s favourite choice for the family, despite the regular crimes committed against Tutsis. My dad would say that a refugee’s life could not be any better than a fearful life in one’s own country.

On the other hand, my dad’s job as a church minister wasn’t the best when it came to family stability. We would move every four or five years. Although I was too young to notice the bad side of it, I can still remember my heart breaking when I was only seven since I had to leave my best friend Consolata without having a chance to tell her goodbye. Funny how I remember all her physical traits and the small details of her beautiful face. I swear to God, if I had the chance to see her today, I am fairly sure I could recognize her. I remember she was dark-skinned with beautiful, big eyes, and had a permanent black skin tag above the left side of her upper lip. Her teeth were white, and her two upper front teeth overlapped a