The Kinyarwanda proverb “amaraso arasama,” meaning “shedding blood curses the doer,” came to mind recently as I reflected on the uncertain fate of Rwandan genocide convicts who remain detained despite serving their sentences.

According to a recent report, seven former officials implicated in the 1994 genocide currently face extended limbo in Niger after their request for transfer was denied. These detainees include former military and political officials who were tried for their role in the 1994 genocide, either acquitted or released after serving their sentences at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR).

Names like Major François-Xavier Nzuwonemeye, Prosper Mugiraneza, Protais Zigiranyirazo, Andre Ntagerura, Alphonse Nteziryayo, Anatole Nsengiyumva, Tharcisse Muvunyi (now deceased), and Innocent Sagahutu instantly evoke memories of the fear, violence, and death during the 100 horrific days.

As the most powerful figures directing the massacres, rapes, torture, and devastation of Tutsis in Rwanda, we were left to face the machete, countless Hutu killers, the roadblocks, and the fear they orchestrated to exterminate Tutsis.

In 1994, the world abandoned us to the slaughter at their hands. Today, although no machete hangs over their heads, the world seems to shut its doors, leaving them in isolation and uncertainty.

Is this karma? As a survivor, it’s tempting to think so. But principles of justice shouldn’t be defined by vengeance. Their prolonged detention raises complex questions of human rights and international law.

As a lawyer, I wrestle with the issues surrounding their situation. But as a survivor, objectivity is infinitely harder. This predicament embodies the intricacies of justice after genocide. They now find themselves tangled in technicalities, diplomacy, and public opinion.

While their plight is real, we cannot forget its roots lie in crimes against humanity. They plead for second chances and asylum, but survivors and the global community still grapple with their pasts. Can justice be served while upholding human rights? The answers elude me.

I believe compassion and hope must prevail over hatred and division. But we must never forget and repeat past mistakes.

My heart holds pain for the memories, and hope for the future. While the past can’t be undone, our actions today shape tomorrow. The fate of these genocide convicts is about more than just themselves but; it’s about global values and humanity.

Their names still evoke dread, but hope compels me to wish better for our shared humanity.

“Amaraso arasama” reminds us to question blind hate, lest more blood be shed. Like Prosper Mugiraneza and Edouard Karemera, once decent men who tragically embraced the unexamined Hutu Power ideology labeling Tutsis as enemies, we are all vulnerable without moral courage.

For those who knew these men before the genocide, they attest Mugiraneza and Karemera and a few more big fishes, were once reasonable men but fell prey to the toxic ideology that fanned the flames of violence. Let their fate be a lesson to Rwanda, Africa and the world. Ends