Well, I
promised a more uplifting story.
And while it’s not about a wedding (I'll share that some other time), it is about people who risked their
lives to save others during the genocide.
“Rescuer” is
the term usually used here to describe someone who was Hutu who risked her or
his life to save someone who was Tutsi.
The last few days, I had the privilege of interviewing several rescuers in
Kibuye, a gorgeous town in the western part of Rwanda.
When the
violence started, interim government officials said that anyone caught helping
a Tutsi would be killed (often along with her or his family). But, some people risked their lives
anyway.
In order to
visit the first Rescuer, my translator and I rented a moto and drove to a small
village outside of Kibuye. We
parked the moto when the road became too narrow and then hiked up to his house
in the mountains, past goats, cows, and many children waving at us.
Once at his
house, we sat on benches in his living room, and he told us about how people
came to his house to ask for help when the genocide started. He decided to help them and allowed
them to hide in his home.
Eventually, perpetrators found out that he was hiding Tutsi, and they came to his house. They chopped
off his leg with a machete and left him, thinking he would die shortly afterward. He crawled into a ditch and waited until they were gone
before going to the hospital, where his leg was amputated. He survived, though, as did many of the
people he hid at his home.
The second
Rescuer with whom we spoke lived very close to Lake Kivu, which is a lake that
also borders the Congo. During the
genocide, she helped Tutsis find boats and make their way across the lake in
order to escape. Each time,
she risked her life to walk them to the lake at night.
The third
Rescuer also hid many Tutsis in her house, which was very, very small. They hid under beds and in the bushes
outside, and she and her husband brought them food when they
thought no one was looking. Once,
she even found a baby abandoned in a group of dead bodies—the Interahamwe (milita)
and other soldiers had killed everyone and left the baby to die. So, she took the baby home and treated
her as her own child, who she regards as a daughter to this day.
I asked each
person how s/he found the strength to help others, and they all said that it
was simply what was right. Each
also noted that they found their strength in God and that they weren’t heroes. But, they truly are.
nice post Hollie glad to have your post on my book mark bar really appreciated work done.
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