In April 1994, as the genocide against the Tutsi swept across Rwanda, the mayor of my hometown, Muyira, told the last Tutsi families still alive, many of us in hiding for weeks, that we would be safe at the commune (county) office. It was a trap.
On April 26, militiamen, police officers, and ordinary Hutu civilians stormed the compound and slaughtered hundreds of us, mostly women and children. Most of our men, my father among them, had already been killed in the early days of the genocide. I lay all night buried under the bodies, my mother and sisters among them. Just before dawn, I heard a small voice whispering my name. It was my older sister, wounded but alive, calling out our names to see who else had survived. “Uracyariho?” she asked. Are you still alive? I nodded. “Tugende,” she said. Let’s go.
My name is Albert Gasake. My sister and I survived. More than a million people did not, including my parents, three of my sisters, and most of our family.
I started this blog in 2013 to call for something survivors have a right to on paper but rarely receive: reparations. Over the years it grew to cover justice, memory, denial, fugitives still living free, and the personal stories we are often told to keep to ourselves. Most of what I post is about Rwanda, but survivors of other genocides are welcome here too.
Today I write from the United States, where I can speak freely. Many people in Rwanda, including fellow survivors, can’t, so I try not to stay quiet, no matter who is doing the harm.
This space is yours too. If you survived, or you carry a survivor’s story, I would love to share it here. It doesn’t need to be polished. Send it in writing, as a recording, or however it comes to you, in Kinyarwanda, French, or English, under your real name, a pen name, or no name at all. You can reach me at justicesurvivors98@gmail.com.
Thank you for stopping by. More than thirty years later, my answer to my sister’s question is still yes. We are still here, and we still have a lot to say.
