Photos: Ola Kwiatkowska - www.elenaiarts.org
"How can someone kill his own neighbour?" - "Who is the architect of this genocide?" - "Why did nobody try to stop it?
With these questions we can easily fill an entire afternoon. We are bound to find something on the president, on the role of the UN, on our minister of defence at the time, on my role as a soldier and undoubtedly on the Rwandans themselves. But we won’t find an explanation.
After all, what explanation will allow me to understand that a husband kills his own wife because she is a Tutsi and he is a Hutu. Any explanation will give me the illusion of understanding. With some superstition like: "That’s why it’s their own fault." or "That’s why this can never happen in our country anymore."
We are all involved. As a victim, as a perpetrator, as a child, as a hero, as a spectator, as a friend, as someone who does not want to hear about it, as a partner, as family... and every role has its meaning.
This tragedy is what connects me. I can try to find guilt or regret, but it won’t bring anyone back. The testimonies of Juliette, Alice, Levine, Emanuel, Josephine ... leave me without any reference of good or evil.
Bernie Glassman invited me to testify as well. I promised Bernie I would at least give it a try. After my testimony Dora Urujeni thanks me on behalf of the Rwandan people. Apparently, my short testimony meant something for the Rwandans I had never met. The following day Josiane visited me with a bunch of flowers she had picked herself. Levine insisted on having her picture taken with me and Pauline invited me to Easter Sunday in her church.
In my mind I was not alone. My wife and children who had stayed behind in Belgium were with me. Dora’s gratitude also goes out to them and to all the members of the Para Commando Brigade. In 1994 we were in Kigali, ready to face any danger. We were unable to complete this mission. Now we have to find the courage to bear this memory.
And that is why our testimonies mean something to the people around us and to the people who are no longer here. Colleagues at work, at home, at school, ... and people far away in Rwanda.
Fifty thousand people lie in the mass grave of Murambi.
During our meditation at the mass grave of Murambi we did not sit in silence. We read the names of the dead aloud. On our way to the mass grave I asked Levine to help me with the right pronunciation of the family names. For the first five names I had to repeat the same family name. An entire family.
- KAREGEYA
- Jonas
- Marie
- Rukara
- Poku
- Rudunyuri
To my list of names I added the names of our ten former colleagues who were murdered in Kigali. I read their names out of respect for who they were and as a sign of connectedness with them, with you and with myself.