“Yes, it is April again. Every year in April the rainy season starts. And every year, every day in April, a haunting emptiness descends over our hearts. Every year in April, I remember how quickly life ends. Every year, I remember how lucky I should feel to be alive. Every year in April… I remember…”
These are the opening words uttered by Augustin Muganza, played by Idris
Elba, in the 2005 historical drama Sometimes
in April, recounting the horrors of the 1994 Genocide of Rwanda. In this
movie emotions run high, our humanity is questioned, and our conscience is
interrogated. For those with hearts, the questioning and interrogation happens
within oneself. Within a space of 100 days, almost a million of our brothers
and sisters were wiped away from the earth’s surface. They were accused of
being Tutsi. It was the greatest genocide of our time. I shall return to Rwanda
shortly; for now, it is the story of April.
April each year is a soul-searching month for me. April each year begins on
a good note, with April Fools’ Day on the 1st. Here I get to prank
my family and friends. I get to prank my classmates and colleagues. This year however, my friend and housemate
Jonah, caught me before I caught him. I was too slow. He BBM’ed me in class while
I was attending an Administrative Law lecture. He said he had been involved in
an accident and needed my urgent help. I packed up, almost about to leave the
lecture hall. Just as I remembered that it is April Fools’ Day, he sent me a
message confirming my foolishness. Leon Schuster would say I was “Schusked”!
This is the fun side of April, always beginning on a good note.
Then April holds Human Rights Day in South Africa. Half a continent away in
April 1994, just as the killings by machetes began in Rwanda, South Africa was
holding its first ever democratic elections, and 75 year-old Nelson Mandela and
millions of black South African were voting for the very first time in their
lives. Democracy was being born. Every year in April, this redeemed nation
remembers the horrors of apartheid, how through reconciliation a nation was
rescued from the verge of civil war. Just as in Rwanda, this day opens wounds.
Memories of the past are brought to life; people of my colour remember how they
were considered perpetual infants in the motherland, how people with a
different skin colour from overseas came and claimed ownership of their land
and wealth. They remember Cecil John Rhodes when he said; “I contend that we are the finest race in the world and that the more of
the world we inhabit the better it is for the human race…What an alteration
there would be if they Africans were brought under Anglo-Saxon influence”,
and many other similar sentiments uttered by like-minded souls, those who
regarded melanin to be a brain fluid. So the rhetoric went on for centuries,
unabated. But then, these bad and bitter feelings are quickly subsumed by the memories
of victory, when good triumphed over evil. So instead, they pause on this day
to celebrate the achievements of humanity in their beautiful country, and they
take stock of how far they have gone in undoing three and a half centuries of
dehumanization. Human rights have a very special place in my heart; the desire
to practice in human rights and advance the respect, promotion and protection
of human rights in our troubled continent is my reason for studying law, believe
it or not. South Africa has a story to tell. Their transition was almost
miraculous. So I watched Mandela: Long
Walk to Freedom, again, as I introspected on this momentous day. What
Mandela did brings solace, so we celebrate him. The world’s most loved and
admired man showed humanity what love can do. He left us last year, having
fulfilled his calling. Indeed as he said, “When a man has done what he
considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest
in peace”. So the man can
rest. Yes, he showed us that “No one
is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his
background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn
to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human
heart than its opposite”. So what we really need is love, and the respect of
human rights follows, naturally. As Obama remembers him,
Nelson Mandela is “a man who took history in his hands and bent the arc of the
moral universe towards justice”.
This year, Easter falls in April. I am a believer. I believe in my
redemption, justification and sanctification through the death of our Savior
Jesus Christ. It gives me strength; it renews my spirit and conviction. As Apostle
Paul said, it brings me to the knowledge that it is no longer I who lives, but Christ
through me. As 1 Corinthians 5: 21 assures me: “For He made Him who
knew no sin to be sin for us,
that we might become the righteousness of God in Him”. By His blood I was bought – cash, no credit! Then Romans 8:35-39
reassures me;
“Who shall separate
us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or
persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?...For I am persuaded
that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor
things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor
any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God
which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
So the message is
also about love. April reminds me of the love of Christ, love that I am
enjoined to share with all humanity, and express to same.
April 18, 1980 is the year the Union Jack came down at Rufaro Stadium in
Harare’s Mbare suburb. The Zimbabwean flag was raised; it was Independence Day.
The legendary Bob Marley came from Jamaica, and he sang at this occasion. He
penned a song for it, the famous ‘Zimbabwe’. So every year on 18 April, my
nation gathers in Harare, at the National Sports Stadium or at Rufaro Stadium
to mark this day. Thousands others gather at different locations across the ten
provinces of the country. So we remember how our nation was born, and how it
has been bred. For me, this is a bitter sweet experience; sweet because we
shacked off the bondage of colonialism, and we proved Cecil John Rhodes and his
naivety wrong. In his life time, and within 1000 years, black majority rule was
established in Zimbabwe. Bitter because in the now, 34 years down the line, my
nation bleeds for justice, peace and stability. Something has gone wrong.
Before he left, Mandela described the happening in my country as tragic failure
of leadership. Alan Paton would help me shout “Cry the Beloved Country”! At one point as we sought to find solid footing after independence, my country
become known as the bread basket of Africa. We exported food. My country came
to be known as the most educated nation in Africa. Now we export human capital
like no other commodity. Now our people are called “Kwerekweres” in South
Africa and Botswana. Many drowned in the Limpopo River or were eaten by
crocodiles as they tried to cross the border for greener pastures. Many died
during the period of xenophobia. Many are called illegal aliens and illegal
foreigners in the United Kingdom, In Australia and in Canada. In the world, the
nation slowly became isolated, a pariah state. Terror was unleashed on a
people. The economy fell. In 1980 the life expectancy in Zimbabwe was 66; now it stands at 37. In 1980 the exchange rate was US$2 to Z$1; it was twice as strong as the South African Rand. Then we had the highest inflation in the world, superseding
that of the Weimar Republic of the
1920s. Now there is no Zimbabwean dollar to talk of. We became a problem in SADC, and we were in the news globally, receiving
more coverage than that given to the other 53 African countries combined. So
my heart bleeds when we celebrate independence, rather, commemorate. I think of
Franz Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks,
and Steve Bantu Bikos’ prophetic
observation in 1972:
"If
we have a mere change of face of those in governing positions, what is likely
to happen is that black people will continue to be poor, and you will see a few
blacks filtering through into the so-called bourgeoisie. Our society will be
run almost as of yesterday."
All this comes to life in April, on this day of introspection. So I cannot
speak much of celebration. Instead, I long for good governance and the respect
of human rights in the motherland. Hope never dries!
Ten days later, after commemorating Zimbabwe’s independence in 1990, I was
to be born on April 28. On this day I call my mother, and thank her for all she
has done for me, and for raising me single-handedly when the worst came to
pass. On this day I count it joy to live, and a privilege, when many are losing
their lives every day. It is an age where life expectancy has dropped to its
lowest levels ever in my country. In Africa South of the Sahara, HIV/AIDS has wreaked
havoc, reducing life to trash, and blowing it away like ash. I cannot put it
any better that Bunmi Mukinwa (UNAIDS Eastern and Southern Africa) does in his book AIDS Africa: A Continent in Crisis; “No
terrorist attach, no war, has ever threatened the lives of more than 40 million
people worldwide. AIDS does.” So as I am alive and healthy, I
reflect on the beauty of life, and I thank God for all I have and all I have
achieved. I reflect on my own contribution to mother earth. I make vows to be a
better person each year, better than I am now this time next year.
I shall now return to Rwanda. In April 1994 the genocide started. I have
known what happened in Rwandan 1994 from my days in high school. I knew people
were killed; I had watched Hotel Rwanda.
As my passion for human rights, peace and good governance grew, I was inspired
to learn more on what happened in this great tragedy. I wanted to know more on
what went wrong, and why. So I watched Hotel
Rwanda again. Then Sometimes in April,
and The Ghosts of Rwanda. I read
newspaper articles, magazine articles and books. I read General Romeo
Dallaire’s Shake Hands With the Devil:
The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda, a recount of his hallowing personal
journey as he led the UN Peacekeeping Mission in Rwanda during the genocide.
Then I read Philip
Gourevitch
‘s We Wish to Inform You That
Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda, Immaculee
Ilibagiza's
Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the
Rwandan Holocaust, Fergal
Keane’s
Season of Blood: A Rwandan Journey , Linda
Melvern’s
A People Betrayed: The Role of the West
in Rwanda's Genocide, the list goes on. As Philip Gourevitch puts
it in his article ‘Remembering
Rwanda’;
“The season of
slaughter that decimated Rwanda twenty years ago is one of the defining
outrages of humankind. At no other time in the history of our species were so
many of us killed so fast or so intimately: roughly a million people in a
hundred days, most of them butchered by hand, by their neighbors, with household
tools and homemade weapons - machetes and hoes and hammers and clubs.”
It is April once more, and the wounds of Rwanda are opened. This year, as
every other year, the people of Rwanda gathered in Kigali, at Amahoro Stadium.
20 years on, the stadium cried as a survivor narrated his story during the genocide.
This crying happens every year. This period calls upon us to remember with the
people of Rwanda. In
1995 when he was appointed Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Desmond
Tutu had this the say:
"I hope that the work of the
commission, by opening wounds to cleanse them, will thereby stop them from
festering. We cannot be facile and say bygones will be bygones, because they
will not be bygones and will return to haunt us. True reconciliation is never
cheap, for it is based on forgiveness, which is costly. Forgiveness in turn
depends on repentance, which has to be based on an acknowledgement of what was
done wrong, and therefore on disclosure of the truth. You cannot forgive what
you do not know."
The remembrance of the days of the genocide
in Rwanda has this very same effect and objectives described by Tutu. In order
to truly heal, one must not run away from the reality of what happened. More
so, in order to prevent what happened, one cannot be oblivious to what
transpired. This is by no means an easy process. So difficult has it been for
the Rwandans themselves that many schools have not yet began to teach the
history of the genocide, in order to gain closure and to heal. This is understandable
given the nature oif the tragedy we are dealing with.
The world turned its back on Rwanda, as a
people descended on their own. Today Rwanda is a haunted nation. The story of
their recovery and the rebuilding of Rwanda however, is moving. As Strive
Masiyiwa reported from his recent attendance at the Rwanda Genocide
Commemoration week in Kigali, today Rwanda is one of the fasted growing economies
in the world!
It is April once more, and the rainy season has started in Rwanda. May the
rain wash away the tears and pain of this nation that has been through a dark
history in our time. May restoration come upon Rwanda, and may restoration come
upon humanity. Rwanda
occupies a special place in my heart, and remains an inspiration for me to use
to talents for the benefit of my continent in peacebuilding, human rights and
good governance. I cannot express it better than Wyclef Jean does in his song
“Million Voices”: “There’s no money, no diamonds,
no fortunes on this planet that can replace Rwanda...”, and in his touching chorus sang by children in Kinyarwanda:
“Ni ryari izuba,
Rizagaruka, Hejuru yacu, Ni nd' uzaricyeza ricyeza”.
[When will the sun
return above us? Who will reveal it once again to us?]
So April for me is a significant month. It holds memories. It harbors pain,
frustration and joys. It brings introspection and reaffirms my hope and
strengthens my resolve. It is a soul-searching month, as I watch it pass
slowly. If I have drawn your attention to one thing, let it be Rwanda. So this
April, and in the months to come, spare a though for Rwanda. The question is:
can we answer with conviction that 1994 Rwanda will never occur again in
another African country? So let the story of Rwanda be a message of love for
humanity, and the need to spread peace and love rather than violence and hate.
Let the importance of love that the gospel speaks of, which in essence is the
story of Easter, become real in the face of what happened in Rwanda, and let
the events of Rwanda strengthen your resolve to contribute to peace, good governance
and the respect of human rights in Africa and beyond.
In the meantime, I am craving to visit an African country, Rwanda. Yes, I want to visit Kigali, and Hôtel des Mille Collines!!
Musa Kika
April 18, 2014.
Durban
