Our Founder and President, Immaculee G. Songa is a firsthand witness and survivor of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi (Genocide). Songa lost her husband, her two daughters, most of her family, relatives and faithful friends during the unspeakable Genocide. She emphasizes below her journey during the Genocide and her passion to empower survivors of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi:
The 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda was meticulously planned and savagely executed. It lasted 100 dark days and left Rwanda in chaos seen as nothing was possible in the aftermath. During those 100 days, I lived the most traumatizing days and nights of a living person. I walked days and nights with a one year old on my back; I hide in houses, in bushes, in a forest, and walked between dead bodies. I was pushed to the ground, beaten, sexually assaulted, and gravely dehumanized. I heard children crying in latrines days and nights; I wore one Kitenge, an African cloth around me with one top during the three months of April-July 11, 1994. The cloth and top were covered all over with lice, intolerable. I became like a rock and did not think straight anymore. Any change of where to spend my nights and days was dictated by this voice inside me ordering my moves. I was like a walking corpse who got in Kigali agonizing and people could not recognize me. I had lost 51 pounds within a period of three months and if someone realized it was me, he would cry of how I looked and my condition, I was miserable.
On the morning of April 27, 1994, the day militias Interahamwe decided it was our day to die and came in mass, singing “Hutu Power, Tutsi must die,” we understood it was the end for our lives. For me, I was outside holding my one year old on my back; he was crying hysterically, and I decided to go outside so I do not put everyone else in danger – I was unware of militias heading to our host house. Standing outside, reading my bible, a gift from my brother, psalm 91:5-7 was the focus of that morning:
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
We were instructed to direct ourselves to a huge forest nearby and were aligned one behind the other; some militias on our left, others on our right, bulling us and repeating the diminishing words that were now our label “snakes, evil, cockroaches, enemy of the country and many more. Many militias and military men walked behind; screaming on us and dehumanizing us, but also ensuring protection and supervising of the operation. Militias were holding machine guns; whereas militias had machetes and paddlers in their hands, beating us and one of them stating loudly: “snakes, march steady and fast; do you hear me? They would take babies from women and give them to one of us but then returning them to us. We were pushed and beaten on our way to the forest, an agonizing situation. Our silence spoke of our fears to die in the hands of people we didn’t know; but with whom we shared the same language and culture. Arriving in the forest, we were lined up straight waiting for our fate. Immobile, I witnessed men hitting us with paddles or using machetes when they cut my friends in front of me; I saw militias savagely kill my dear friends and ensured they were tortured to death. No one was lucky enough to be killed with a bullet.
When my time came, a man in uniform approached me beating my arms and legs. With fear, I mentioned to him that I had money on me and more inside the house I could give to him if he did not kill me. Here, I was just expressing my distress to die. I started pulling out money from my Kitenge and I had it in RWf 5,000. He pushed me on side and hit me so hard that I screamed and moved quickly to the side. There, I realized he was busy beating other people and moved backward into the forest and got away from the killing site, approximately 15 feet. I seat under a tree so they don’t see me and waited. I assumed the military guy thought someone else killed me because he didn’t walk in the forest looking for me. I heard a man’s voice say: “let’s go back inside the house and find material to get red off these dirty bodies. They left and came back; I heard them hitting the ground and lightly covering my people’s bodies. Then, I remembered to pray again, not confident though in the power of prayer; I had just lost three entire families in that forest. Then I said, I said: “God! My family members slept their life praising you; my father attended church every single day; my brother was your servant, I was baptized a week after I was born; please God, make it that it rains! I hoped it rains, they would leave the forest. Within 30 minutes, a heavy rain engulfed the forest; militias left the killing site, and the road block near me became clear. This was God’s watching over me.
Everyone I was with in the forest died around me. So, when I picture the little children I was with, their parents and my husband; when I reflect on how their lives were cut short within a matter of less than an hour, tears stream down my face and I can’t stop them. I feel so much pain, my heart beats faster, and I question my surviving. I know the answer however. If I survived, it was by God’s plan and will. He rescued me and calls me to be the voice of survivors; to live with dignity, and strive that no one else dies because of hatred.
While I was hiding in Butare, I heard a man say loud: “I am on my 943rd kill; our leaders are smart; if they tell me to do something, and I will do.” I the bushes, I knew I was next, the 944th; but luckily, they did not get to me. I often think of that statement which keeps calling met to promote education. If this man had been taught to critically analyze what he reads and hears, he would have questioned hateful messages broadcasted on the national television and Rwandan Radio. There was great propaganda by the Hutu leadership during the years preceding and during the Genocide, labeling Tutsi as cockroaches and snakes. With some education, people would not have joined militias Interahamwe to kill nor would the man have declared his crimes with pride.
Right after the genocide, I questioned of the reason of my surviving. Why me? What did I do to escape the Genocide? After all, when I left the forest, I went to four different locations and was brought in front of the killers SIX TIMES but they would save me for next time until the Genocide was over. There was no hope after the Genocide - total despair. It was only five years later and through prayer that I came to realize there was a reason for my surviving. It is not to give up, nor to feel sorry for myself, but to gain strength, to wake up and bear my responsibility of surviving. Because, I survived to remember, to restore the dignity of my people, to tell the world of how the Genocide was planned and executed because it did not happen overnight. It was a long process that trained militias and formed extremist political parties and equipped them with machetes and guns; it was being planned when Hutu leaders identified Tutsis’ homes and marked them with numbers. All of this should be a lesson to the world so there is doubt if ever it happened anywhere else. The Genocide was preventable and so it is a lesson for the word. Friends, if we want peace in our society; if we want to build peaceful communities where our children can fulfill their destiny; we have an obligation to fight any form of hate and violence. We are morally responsible to prevent Genocide from happening anywhere else; we should shout together: Never Again Genocide.
As a survivor of the unthinkable Genocide—bearing the losses of my loved ones, I strongly believe in the importance of, and the responsibility we have in, supporting survivors of Genocide and other atrocities. One of the basic steps toward peace is to lift survivors, to empower them, to morally and financially assist them. Many of us have lost the lives of those we cherished and everything we called our own. We do not want bitterness to take over our hearts, nor do we want loneliness to govern our lives, but must find ways to empower those families which were destroyed by the Genocide. We must strive that peace prevails in our communities. For that to succeed, we call for compassion, and love, so that your generosity reassures and empowers the vulnerable.
On this journey of surviving, I believe that women are the “center of homes;” they bear the responsibility to care for precious lives and must be empowered to become self-reliant to bolster their contributions to peaceful communities. I am confident that what seems impossible to us is possible to God who is passionate about justice and peace. For couple years, I felt the responsibility to lift orphans, sending them to school or assisting them in other ways. However, I could not do much alone; realizing there are many people with golden hearts. Then, my heart kept telling me to start something; to be of assistance to survivors in more fruitful way with Global Survivors for Peace organization. We are passionate about the well-being and holistic life of survivors. The organization is managed by survivors with their friends who share the passion to lift the least fortunate survivors who continue in their struggle to live a rewarding life. I hope you now know what survivors of Genocide went through and you will join Global Survivors for Peace in its commitment and determination to empower survivors of Genocide and other atrocities; to express your compassion to them in your actions, to land a hand to the elderly left alone, to send to school orphans who don’t see light in the tunnel, but also many singles mothers left alone with children to raise. Citizens of the world, may this situation challenges your heart to give more; may you become our families, thus contributing to lasting peace in our society.
Immaculee G. Songa