Some Time in April

In 2007 my sister, Denise, traveled to Rwanda with a non-profit organization called the Business Council for Peace. The Council's mission was to go to Rwanda and train genocide survivors in business skills. With a Bachelors in Food Service Management and a Masters in Hospitality Management my sister was paired with the owner of a small hotel in Rwanda. My sister fell in love with Rwanda and the people. She started a non-profit organization, My Brother's Keeper, and returned to Rwanda in 2008 to offer aide to widows and orphans. As she prepares to return once again to Rwanda in October I thought I would share this speech I gave to in 2007 after her first visit. Enjoy and remember we are our brothers' keeper.

On April 6th, 1994, Augustine and his wife, Jeanne, had just put their two sons, Marcus and Yves Andres to bed when a loud explosion sent them to their window. They peered out the window and saw a plane falling from the sky. The local radio station broadcasted that the Rwandan president and the newly elected president of Burundi had just been assassinated, and for Augustine, a Hutu and Jeanne his Tutsi wife this was the beginning of the end.

The Hutu and Tutsi tribes coexisted in what is now known as Burundi and Rwanda for many, many years. It was European colonist that drew racial lines between the two tribes, establishing Tutsis that have what they considered more European features as superior to the Hutus. The two tribes were distinguished by identity cards that stated whether they were Hutu or Tutsi. Tutsis were the majority in government, the majority in military and received better housing and education. Resentment mounted between the two groups, resulting in ongoing conflicts. Burundi experienced two genocides prior to the Rwanda genocide of 1994. In 1972 nearly 200,000 Hutus were exterminated by the Tutsis, and in 1993 an estimated 400,000 Tutsis were murdered by Hutus, but April 6^th, 1994, marked the beginning of one of the most horrific genocides in modern history. Over the next 100 days the world stood by and watched as nearly one million Rwandans were murdered.

Augstin’s brother, Honore’ worked at a local Hutu radio station that was broadcasting propaganda, calling for the extermination of all Tutsi cockroaches. He knew the plans of his fellow Hutu extremist. He knew that thousands of machetes had been imported from China. This would be their weapon of choice. He also knew that as a Tutsi his sister-in-law and two nephews would be murdered. He went to Augustine’s house to warn him. They decided that Honore’ would take Jeanne and the boys and drive them out of the country to neighboring Congo. Augustine and his best friend, Xavier, a Tutsi also, would stay behind and find their own way out of the country. By this time day one of the genocide had come to an end and thirty thousand people had been killed. As Honore’ and Jeanne drove they saw dead bodies lining the streets. The Hutus had set up check points along the way to check identification cards. They forced Honore’ out of his car, checking his ID they realized that he was Hutu, but still demanded the IDs of his passengers. As Jeanne fought to protect her sons she was knocked unconscious by one of the Hutu soldiers. Her sons were executed. They left her for dead. Later that night Honore’ returned to where Jeanne’s body had been dumped. He found her alive and took her to a church where he left her on the door steps. Inside the church hundreds of Tutsis were hiding, hoping that they would be safe from the Hutus there. They were wrong. Here Jeanne was raped by several Hutu men. As they planned to kill her she stole a grenade from one of the soldiers and pulled the pin, killing herself and the soldiers.

Meanwhile Augustine and Xavier were attempting to make their way out of the country. UN and Belgium soldiers had been sent in to evacuate all foreigners. Augustine attempted to follow the UN convoy but the convoy was stopped by a road block. He begged the soldiers to tell the Hutus he was a part of their convoy. They wouldn’t. Xavier was executed. The killings continued, and by the end of the first week over two hundred thousand people were murdered.

Here in the US former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, Prudence Bushnell, urged President Clinton to do something to stop these mass killings, but like the leader of the Hutus told her during a phone conversation Rwanda lacked any resource that the US needed so it had no interest in the small country. Still she tried to convince the Department of Defense to do something to intervene.

Augustine made it to the hotel made famous by the movie Hotel Rwanda where he stayed until Paul Kagame who was the leader of the army and is now the president of Rwanda was able to subdue the Hutus and bring some semblance of order back to the country.

Augustine started his search for his family. The first place he went to was the boarding school that his daughter, Anna Marie, attended. He had hoped like so many others that the Hutus would have had mercy upon the children, but they didn’t. There he found the remains of most of the girls. He his daughter had also been killed.

Eight hundred thousand people died in Rwanda between April 1994 and June 1994. This story that I have shared with you is fictional. It is from the HBO movie Sometimes in April, but even though the story is not true, the events that happened during this three month period are very true. It is a story of hate, prejudice, and social inequality. It is a Rwandan story. It is a Jewish story. It is an American story. It is our story.

My sister recently traveled to Rwanda where she worked with a genocide survivor. When she first shared with me that she wanted to go Rwanda I was a bit apprehensive because of what had taken place there a mere fourteen years ago, but I knew that it was something that she had to do.

She told me that the thing that amazed her the Denise and Symphrose

most was the spirit of the people. After having

lost her husband and having to flee to Congo with her four sons Symphrose Mukantamu was able to return to Rwanda and open a hotel. A hotel! Three of her sons are in Canada in college. Her youngest is still in high school. My brother who attends the University of Arkansas was able to meet with the admissions office and persuade them to allow Rwandan students to pay in state school fees, which is a lot less than out of state fees. So if all goes well Symprhose’s son Chico will be attending the University of Arkansas. My sister also plans to meet with both Johnson and Wales University and Florida International University to discuss the same sort plan for Rwandan students who are accepted to those schools.

When I went to New York I met Richard, also a genocide survivor, and I began to understand what my sister meant when she spoke about the amazing spirit of these people. Richard like so many others lost his entire family during the genocide. My sister visited the boarding school that was portrayed in the movie and also the genocide memorial center that was funded by President Bill Clinton. She felt her eyes tear up but when she looked around her at Symphrose, Richard, and his girlfriend Denise, and saw that their eyes were dry she felt like she had no reason to cry if they were not. They each have been able to rise above the hate that they lived through.

The world is truly flat and just because you don’t live in Africa does not mean that what happens there does not affect you here. I believe it is our duty as human beings living on the same planet to be our brother’s keeper. There are non-profit organizations that we each can become involved in to do our little bit to help because one April morning you could wake up and someone with a machete can be banging on your door to kill you just because you’re

Richard and Denise

tall or short, fat or skinny, black or white. Just because you’re not what they are.

“It is said when Imana created this land he grew so found of it, he returned every night to rest. When did paradise become hell? From the start even the conquest was a regrettable misunderstanding. Europe gave the land to its conqueror and the king knew nothing of it. It was never about civilization, never about tribe or race. It was always about greed, arrogance, and power. And when we finally grasped the horror it was too late.

“And every year, and every day in April a haunting emptiness descends upon our hearts. Every year in April I remember how quickly life ends. Every year in April I remember how lucky I should feel to be alive. Every year in April I remember. On April 12^th, 1994, my wife Jeanne was killed. In that same month my sons Marcus and Yves Andre were killed. My friend Xavier was killed in the month of April. My daughter Anne-Marie was killed some time later, but I never asked when.”

~Some Time in April~