Witness at Rebero

At Rebero, there is a row of graves and on the headstones are the names of politicians who died in 1994 because they did not support the genocidal regime. It is a row of names of politicians of diverse ethnicity who were murdered because of their commitment to Rwanda; a row of names that invites all to participate in the development of inclusive politics. The annual national week of mourning for the genocide victims ends at Rebero with an honouring of these politicians and a plea to emulate them.

At Rebero, also, on the sloping land, are rows of mass graves covered with flowers. 14,000 people are buried here. There is an engraved list of names of some of the victims. A young woman carefully reads the names, her eyes moving slowly and deliberately over each word. She is a survivor of a massacre on Rebero Hill and many of the recorded names were her childhood neighbours.

At the ceremony that closes the mourning, the song played everywhere this week is sung and the words translated through my headset. It is about the right to remember, to dignity, to the truth, to memory. It is about no to those who would want to silence your truth. It is about going through darkness to the light, how going through darkness brings you to clarity, but no, the song sings that it is not about evil, it is not about promoting darkness, it is about how darkness brings you to the light. The song is strong, beautiful, haunting. Not everyone in this country appreciates the repeated airtime of this song.

A note is passed around…is this singer the Tutsi survivor who plans to marry the daughter of the man who killed his family? Yego, yes, it is he. He is singing about the right of the survivor to truth and dignity and he is living reconciliation. Not everyone in this country will like this either, although officially it is impossible to have a ‘mixed’ marriage, as there is no acknowledged ethnic identity. But everyone knows

After the ceremony masses of people crowd the politicians’ graves that are covered with flowers. They file slowly past, paying respect.

I walk carefully, slowly, along the multiple rows of graves. By the lowest level a woman is screaming and a group of first aid attendants are carrying her away as she strikes out with arms and legs, not knowing where she is, not knowing that she is safe today. People are used to this here - in fact the newspaper reports that trauma cases are down this year – but I am not yet and I watch the people in white holding her gently as they move quickly across the grass.

I keep walking, slowly, amongst the graves until it is time to go.