Paris (AFP) – Jeanne Allaire Kayigirwa was sure she was going to die three times during the Rwandan genocide in which most of her friends and family were massacred.
'I don't know how we survived': Jeanne Allaire Kayigirwa at her mother's home in Kigali © Guillem Sartorio / AFP
She and her sister hid in the bush for six weeks as the slaughter went on around them, moving on all the time as Hutu extremists hunted Tutsis like them "down with dogs".
"I don't know how we survived," she said.
Much about that time she does not want to remember. "Otherwise I won't be able to go on."
Jeanne learned to live with her demons, but "you cannot wipe a genocide from your memory. It comes back went it wants."
Then one day she took stock. "Am I going to let the killers who wanted to wipe me out also take my second life?
"Or am I going to live it?" said the 46-year-old, who went on to be a top local government official in Paris.
More than a million people died in the genocide organised by the extremist Hutu regime in 1994.
Men, women, children from the Tutsi minority systematically exterminated between April and July 1994 -- often with machetes -- by Hutu forces, and sometimes even by their neighbours, colleagues and even friends.
Three decades after the horror, AFP set out to find Tutsi children who survived the killing and who were adopted or grew up in France.
They talked of the weight of what they witnessed, their feeling of injustice and about living for those who were slaughtered.
Some have remained abroad, while others have been drawn back to Rwanda.
Jeanne lost her father, sister, friends, cousins, aunts and uncles -- "I try not to count".
"They put the guns to our temples the day they came to kill us," she said.
Silences
Moving to France "gave me the chance to study", but more than anything it "helped me because I didn't have to see the killers every day."
Soon after arriving, Jeanne helped found the Ibuka group, a survivor group which keeps the memory of the genocide alive, going out into schools to speak about what happened.
Jeanne grabbed her "second life" in both hands, began a family and worked for the mayor of Paris.
"I feel that by talking about it I am not shutting up the dead who have been silenced."
She and her sister hid in the bush for six weeks as the slaughter went on around them, moving on all the time as Hutu extremists hunted Tutsis like them "down with dogs".
"I don't know how we survived," she said.
Much about that time she does not want to remember. "Otherwise I won't be able to go on."
Jeanne learned to live with her demons, but "you cannot wipe a genocide from your memory. It comes back went it wants."
Then one day she took stock. "Am I going to let the killers who wanted to wipe me out also take my second life?
"Or am I going to live it?" said the 46-year-old, who went on to be a top local government official in Paris.
More than a million people died in the genocide organised by the extremist Hutu regime in 1994.
Men, women, children from the Tutsi minority systematically exterminated between April and July 1994 -- often with machetes -- by Hutu forces, and sometimes even by their neighbours, colleagues and even friends.
Three decades after the horror, AFP set out to find Tutsi children who survived the killing and who were adopted or grew up in France.
They talked of the weight of what they witnessed, their feeling of injustice and about living for those who were slaughtered.
Some have remained abroad, while others have been drawn back to Rwanda.
Jeanne lost her father, sister, friends, cousins, aunts and uncles -- "I try not to count".
"They put the guns to our temples the day they came to kill us," she said.
Silences
Moving to France "gave me the chance to study", but more than anything it "helped me because I didn't have to see the killers every day."
Soon after arriving, Jeanne helped found the Ibuka group, a survivor group which keeps the memory of the genocide alive, going out into schools to speak about what happened.
Jeanne grabbed her "second life" in both hands, began a family and worked for the mayor of Paris.
"I feel that by talking about it I am not shutting up the dead who have been silenced."
Surviving the unthinkable: Manzi Rugirangoga at work in Kigali © Guillem Sartorio / AFP
A heavy silence, however, hung over Manzi Rugirangoga's childhood.
Now living back in the Rwandan capital Kigali, Manzi survived the unthinkable as a baby.
He was just 15 months old when his family took refuge in a school with other Tutsis in the southern town of Butare. On April 29, 1994, Hutu militia attacked. His mother, who was carrying him on her back, was killed along with his aunt and uncle.
But he and his sister and brother, who were four and seven, were not.
"The killers didn't spare us, they just said that they didn't want to waste their bullets on us." Instead they were left to "die from hunger and grief".
Manzi's father found him in an orphanage in Burundi three months later.
A terrible injustice
The children survived thanks to an extraordinary rescue operation by the Swiss charity Terre des hommes (Tdh), which has only come to light recently thanks to a book called "The Convoy" by Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse, one of 1,000 survivors its aid workers got out of the country.
"Dozens of members of my family" were killed in the genocide, said Manzi, now 31. "My father is the only survivor on his side." A vet, he was in France on a training course when the genocide began.
Manzi as a child after he was brought to live in France © Guillem Sartorio / AFP
He brought the children to France "because he had very little hope of finding anything in Rwanda".
"I still feel this huge feeling of injustice about what happened," said Manzi.
Little was ever said at home. "People would ask you where you came from, and I knew very little."
It was only after the "shock" of returning to Rwanda for the first time when he was 10 that he felt "an instinctive need" to go home.
"I finally knew where I came from," he said.
After some difficult teenage years, Manzi went back to Kigali on his own when he was 15 to stay with his aunt, and then boarded at high school in the east of the country, where he had to learn Rwandan.
After university in France, he moved back to Kigali.
"Back then, I didn't see my future in France," he said.
Sandrine Lorusso grew up in the same silence. The youngest of nine, she lost both her parents and three siblings in the massacres.
Adopted by her eldest sister and her husband who were living in France, her interview with AFP was the first time the soft-spoken mother-of-two has ever talked publicly about what she went through in Kigali.
"It wasn't something we talked about," said the nurse.
"The killers gathered in front of our house. They took my mother, but they left me and my sister Aline. We ran to our neighbours and a few minutes later we heard gunfire," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
Panic attacks
She still doesn't know how her father died. He was found in a mass grave.
Growing up, "my brain worked hard to hide" the memories. But things got "complicated" as Sandrine approached adulthood. It all got too much "between the ages of 17 and 24 and I had depression".
The trauma came back with a vengeance when she was pregnant with her first child. "I had inexplicable panic attacks. You try to keep it down but sooner or later it comes out," she said.
When she left for France, Jeanne thought she was also "leaving the genocide" behind her.
"I thought I was going to live a good life, I hoped to never have to see the images of the bones and the ruins. But even if you move 6,000 kilometres (3,700 miles), you bring the genocide with you," she said.
She described how it followed her down French streets where she would notice "spots where people might be able to hide", or be spooked by the "sound of shooting" when she went to the cinema.
"The nightmares have lasted a long time," she said.
A heavy silence, however, hung over Manzi Rugirangoga's childhood.
Now living back in the Rwandan capital Kigali, Manzi survived the unthinkable as a baby.
He was just 15 months old when his family took refuge in a school with other Tutsis in the southern town of Butare. On April 29, 1994, Hutu militia attacked. His mother, who was carrying him on her back, was killed along with his aunt and uncle.
But he and his sister and brother, who were four and seven, were not.
"The killers didn't spare us, they just said that they didn't want to waste their bullets on us." Instead they were left to "die from hunger and grief".
Manzi's father found him in an orphanage in Burundi three months later.
A terrible injustice
The children survived thanks to an extraordinary rescue operation by the Swiss charity Terre des hommes (Tdh), which has only come to light recently thanks to a book called "The Convoy" by Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse, one of 1,000 survivors its aid workers got out of the country.
"Dozens of members of my family" were killed in the genocide, said Manzi, now 31. "My father is the only survivor on his side." A vet, he was in France on a training course when the genocide began.
Manzi as a child after he was brought to live in France © Guillem Sartorio / AFPHe brought the children to France "because he had very little hope of finding anything in Rwanda".
"I still feel this huge feeling of injustice about what happened," said Manzi.
Little was ever said at home. "People would ask you where you came from, and I knew very little."
It was only after the "shock" of returning to Rwanda for the first time when he was 10 that he felt "an instinctive need" to go home.
"I finally knew where I came from," he said.
After some difficult teenage years, Manzi went back to Kigali on his own when he was 15 to stay with his aunt, and then boarded at high school in the east of the country, where he had to learn Rwandan.
After university in France, he moved back to Kigali.
"Back then, I didn't see my future in France," he said.
Sandrine Lorusso grew up in the same silence. The youngest of nine, she lost both her parents and three siblings in the massacres.
Adopted by her eldest sister and her husband who were living in France, her interview with AFP was the first time the soft-spoken mother-of-two has ever talked publicly about what she went through in Kigali.
"It wasn't something we talked about," said the nurse.
"The killers gathered in front of our house. They took my mother, but they left me and my sister Aline. We ran to our neighbours and a few minutes later we heard gunfire," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
Panic attacks
She still doesn't know how her father died. He was found in a mass grave.
Growing up, "my brain worked hard to hide" the memories. But things got "complicated" as Sandrine approached adulthood. It all got too much "between the ages of 17 and 24 and I had depression".
The trauma came back with a vengeance when she was pregnant with her first child. "I had inexplicable panic attacks. You try to keep it down but sooner or later it comes out," she said.
When she left for France, Jeanne thought she was also "leaving the genocide" behind her.
"I thought I was going to live a good life, I hoped to never have to see the images of the bones and the ruins. But even if you move 6,000 kilometres (3,700 miles), you bring the genocide with you," she said.
She described how it followed her down French streets where she would notice "spots where people might be able to hide", or be spooked by the "sound of shooting" when she went to the cinema.
"The nightmares have lasted a long time," she said.
Survivor Gaspard Jassef with a photo of him arriving in France with his adopted mother Dominique Jassef © JOEL SAGET / AFP
Gaspard Jassef's memories would not leave him alone either. As a six-year-old, he hid out from the genocide alone in the forest for five months.
"The commemoration of the 30 years (since the genocide) touched me intensely... and I want to sort out of all the unknowns in my head about what happened to me," he told AFP in a Paris cafe.
His little sister and his mother -- a Tutsi married to a Hutu -- were poisoned by their Hutu relatives at the start of the genocide.
Fearful for his "mixed" child, his father told him to hide in the forest. But he never came to find him. He too had been killed, according to information Gaspard has been able to piece together.
In October 1994 -- three months after the genocide ended -- a French nurse called Dominique Jassef, who had been working in a local dispensary, found him in the forest with advanced malnutrition. "I ate what I could. I hunted small animals. I stayed in the trees," he said.
"When my second mother found me, I probably had a week to live," he said. The doctors thought "there was no hope" but the French nurse refused to give up on him, got him treatment and later adopted him, changing his life.
Gaspard Jassef's memories would not leave him alone either. As a six-year-old, he hid out from the genocide alone in the forest for five months.
"The commemoration of the 30 years (since the genocide) touched me intensely... and I want to sort out of all the unknowns in my head about what happened to me," he told AFP in a Paris cafe.
His little sister and his mother -- a Tutsi married to a Hutu -- were poisoned by their Hutu relatives at the start of the genocide.
Fearful for his "mixed" child, his father told him to hide in the forest. But he never came to find him. He too had been killed, according to information Gaspard has been able to piece together.
In October 1994 -- three months after the genocide ended -- a French nurse called Dominique Jassef, who had been working in a local dispensary, found him in the forest with advanced malnutrition. "I ate what I could. I hunted small animals. I stayed in the trees," he said.
"When my second mother found me, I probably had a week to live," he said. The doctors thought "there was no hope" but the French nurse refused to give up on him, got him treatment and later adopted him, changing his life.
France's shameful legacy
French President Francois Mitterrand with his Rwandan counterpart Juvenal Habyarimana on a visit to Kigali in 1984 © Georges GOBET / AFP/File
Gaspard still has trouble sleeping and is haunted by the day when he had to bury his mother and his sister.
But in "my sadness I have had the great good luck to have had two very loving mothers", he added.
Despite the trauma, he was a brilliant student and worked for several years for a think tank and co-founded the support group, The Adopted of Rwanda.
Even so, "everyday life can be a struggle, and sometimes I feel very old", he admitted.
A deeply social party animal, Gaspard loves nothing more than talking French politics for hours on end. "My blood and my skin is Rwandan and I also feel fully French," he said.
Yet France's role in the genocide of the Tutsi has been an extremely touchy subject.
Paris, which had close relations with the murderous Hutu regime, was for a long time accused by Kigali of "complicity" in the genocide.
A commission of historians in 2021 found that France under the late president Francois Mitterrand had "heavy and overwhelming responsibility" for the genocide but had not been complicit.
The writer Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse makes a distinction between "the absolutely fantastic French people who welcomed her" and "the French politicians and military whose actions should be condemned".
Her host family "really looked after me" and even took her to a psychologist.
Despite the trauma, she was able to "reconstruct" her life. "Of course, you feel fragile," she admitted. "When you have been excluded from humanity... it's a long road back from that," she said.
She chose a career where she "fights against death", working for NGOs dealing with AIDs and addiction.
Gaspard still has trouble sleeping and is haunted by the day when he had to bury his mother and his sister.
But in "my sadness I have had the great good luck to have had two very loving mothers", he added.
Despite the trauma, he was a brilliant student and worked for several years for a think tank and co-founded the support group, The Adopted of Rwanda.
Even so, "everyday life can be a struggle, and sometimes I feel very old", he admitted.
A deeply social party animal, Gaspard loves nothing more than talking French politics for hours on end. "My blood and my skin is Rwandan and I also feel fully French," he said.
Yet France's role in the genocide of the Tutsi has been an extremely touchy subject.
Paris, which had close relations with the murderous Hutu regime, was for a long time accused by Kigali of "complicity" in the genocide.
A commission of historians in 2021 found that France under the late president Francois Mitterrand had "heavy and overwhelming responsibility" for the genocide but had not been complicit.
The writer Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse makes a distinction between "the absolutely fantastic French people who welcomed her" and "the French politicians and military whose actions should be condemned".
Her host family "really looked after me" and even took her to a psychologist.
Despite the trauma, she was able to "reconstruct" her life. "Of course, you feel fragile," she admitted. "When you have been excluded from humanity... it's a long road back from that," she said.
She chose a career where she "fights against death", working for NGOs dealing with AIDs and addiction.
Reconnecting
The 30th anniversary of the genocide has been a big moment for many of the survivors.
Last year Jeanne moved back to Rwanda with her husband and young son.
"I felt I was missing something in France," she told AFP from Kigali. "I wanted to live with my family and my mother again. She is now over 80. I wanted to show my son my homeland and my language and maybe help rebuild the country."
Gaspard said he has finally found a "form of stability" and wants to go back to his village and understand what happened to his father.
Reconnecting with his roots: Manzi Rugirangoga in Kigali © Guillem Sartorio / AFPManzi has a heap of projects on the go in Kigali. He has written an "African futurist" novel, founded a publishing house and has invested in farms growing peppers, beans and watermelons.
"Reconnecting with my roots, my family and my history has helped me," he said.
But "the idea that we can totally reconstruct ourselves, and that we don't think about what happened, that is unobtainable," Manzi added.
Back in France, Sandrine wants to get more involved in a group keeping alive the memory of what was done.
She has also thought about going to a therapist. "There are things about what happened in 1994 that I can't remember -- and the genocide has also robbed me of my memories of what went before, of my early childhood."
Since she went back to Rwanda, Beata has found happiness in its particular "light and landscapes" and the spirit of the place.
"Every time I return, I reconnect with who I was," she said.
© 2024 AFP
Unsung heroes who saved 1,000 children from Rwanda genocide
Paris (AFP) – The untold story of how around 1,000 children were rescued from Rwanda during the bloodiest and most chaotic days of its genocide is finally coming to light three decades after they were saved from the slaughter.
Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse, the survivor who has now told the story of Rwanda's children's convoys © JULIEN DE ROSA / AFP
Aid workers risked their lives to get the children -- mostly orphans -- out to safety in neighbouring Burundi in a series of Swiss humanitarian convoys.
Many of the children were wounded or had watched their families being massacred in front of them in the 100 days of systematic slaughter.
Around one million people, mainly from the Tutsi minority, were clubbed, shot or hacked to death with machetes between April and July 1994 by the army and Hutu extremists from the Interahamwe militia.
Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse, who was 15 when she was smuggled out, tells of the little known operation from the inside in her acclaimed new book, "The Convoy".
AFP has also tracked down several other children from the convoys who grew up or were adopted abroad.
Umubyeyi Mairesse was hidden in the back of a truck under a sheet, with orphans sitting on her and her mother to conceal them when they were stopped at Hutu checkpoints.
The Rwandan authorities only allowed children under 12 to be transported on the packed convoys run by the Swiss charity Terre des hommes (Tdh) -- "People of the Earth" in English.
In her book, Umubyeyi Mairesse tells how they held their breath at the roadblocks, trying not to move a muscle as militiamen inspected the trucks, hoping the fear on the faces of the bandaged and traumatised children would not give them away.
Aid workers risked their lives to get the children -- mostly orphans -- out to safety in neighbouring Burundi in a series of Swiss humanitarian convoys.
Many of the children were wounded or had watched their families being massacred in front of them in the 100 days of systematic slaughter.
Around one million people, mainly from the Tutsi minority, were clubbed, shot or hacked to death with machetes between April and July 1994 by the army and Hutu extremists from the Interahamwe militia.
Beata Umubyeyi Mairesse, who was 15 when she was smuggled out, tells of the little known operation from the inside in her acclaimed new book, "The Convoy".
AFP has also tracked down several other children from the convoys who grew up or were adopted abroad.
Umubyeyi Mairesse was hidden in the back of a truck under a sheet, with orphans sitting on her and her mother to conceal them when they were stopped at Hutu checkpoints.
The Rwandan authorities only allowed children under 12 to be transported on the packed convoys run by the Swiss charity Terre des hommes (Tdh) -- "People of the Earth" in English.
In her book, Umubyeyi Mairesse tells how they held their breath at the roadblocks, trying not to move a muscle as militiamen inspected the trucks, hoping the fear on the faces of the bandaged and traumatised children would not give them away.
'Chaotic'
Orphans fleeing the genocide shelter in a church in Kabgayi, south of Kigali in May 1994 © Alexander JOE / AFP
She took several years to piece together the testimonies of the "children of the convoys" -- now scattered across the world -- who were rescued thanks to the courage of aid workers, nuns, journalists, a diplomat and a priest.
Some had been in Rwandan orphanages before the massacres began, while many were the children of Tutsis killed during the genocide.
"Terre des hommes found itself facing an unbelievable situation," said Jean-Luc Imhof, a longtime Rwanda specialist for the charity.
They "were responsible for more than 1,000 of these children", and with war and the genocide raging all around, the situation was completely "chaotic", he told AFP.
"Lots were really young, some under three years old, but mostly there were between five and 10. Many had been wounded, including with machetes," he said.
As the Tutsi rebels from the Rwandan Patriotic Front (FPR) -- who put an end to the massacres -- closed in, the army and the Hutu-led Interahamwe militia sensed defeat and "became crazy", he said.
'Unimaginable cruelty'
The first convoy in early June, which Tdh organised with the International Committee of the Red Cross, for whom Imhof had previously worked, got safely through to Burundi. But another that set off on June 18, unassisted by the ICRC, "was even riskier", said Imhof.
"The convoy went into the incredible unknown -- they were risking their lives at every checkpoint. The soldiers made the children get out... their lives were hanging by very little," he said.
These were deeply traumatised children who had "seen their families massacred" and "taken their trauma with them".
"Their normal had become escaping death multiple times a day," he said,
She took several years to piece together the testimonies of the "children of the convoys" -- now scattered across the world -- who were rescued thanks to the courage of aid workers, nuns, journalists, a diplomat and a priest.
Some had been in Rwandan orphanages before the massacres began, while many were the children of Tutsis killed during the genocide.
"Terre des hommes found itself facing an unbelievable situation," said Jean-Luc Imhof, a longtime Rwanda specialist for the charity.
They "were responsible for more than 1,000 of these children", and with war and the genocide raging all around, the situation was completely "chaotic", he told AFP.
"Lots were really young, some under three years old, but mostly there were between five and 10. Many had been wounded, including with machetes," he said.
As the Tutsi rebels from the Rwandan Patriotic Front (FPR) -- who put an end to the massacres -- closed in, the army and the Hutu-led Interahamwe militia sensed defeat and "became crazy", he said.
'Unimaginable cruelty'
The first convoy in early June, which Tdh organised with the International Committee of the Red Cross, for whom Imhof had previously worked, got safely through to Burundi. But another that set off on June 18, unassisted by the ICRC, "was even riskier", said Imhof.
"The convoy went into the incredible unknown -- they were risking their lives at every checkpoint. The soldiers made the children get out... their lives were hanging by very little," he said.
These were deeply traumatised children who had "seen their families massacred" and "taken their trauma with them".
"Their normal had become escaping death multiple times a day," he said,
Orphan and survivor: Claire Umutoni © BERTRAND GUAY / AFP
That was also the case for Claire Umutoni and one of her sisters, who got to Burundi on a July 3 convoy in an escape she still remembers vividly.
"We received a phone call around April 20 from someone whose voice my father recognised. He knew it was one of the dignitaries from the town of Butare, who told him: 'Your time has come.'"
He ordered his five daughters to flee and Umutoni, then 17, suddenly became head of her family, the sisters chased from one hiding place to the next.
Their parents were later murdered with "unimaginable cruelty", she said.
"Bombs were falling near the school where we were staying with several orphans -- the children had all sorts of injuries, both physical and emotional. It was terrible," Umutoni told AFP from her home in Canada.
Clubs and butcher knives
The terror only intensified when they joined the rescue convoy.
"I remember that on the road, there were many of the killers who had carried out genocide fleeing with hammers and machetes... It was chaos because the FPR was at the gates of Butare, but there were still perpetrators who wanted to kill the Tutsis," said Umutoni.
That was also the case for Claire Umutoni and one of her sisters, who got to Burundi on a July 3 convoy in an escape she still remembers vividly.
"We received a phone call around April 20 from someone whose voice my father recognised. He knew it was one of the dignitaries from the town of Butare, who told him: 'Your time has come.'"
He ordered his five daughters to flee and Umutoni, then 17, suddenly became head of her family, the sisters chased from one hiding place to the next.
Their parents were later murdered with "unimaginable cruelty", she said.
"Bombs were falling near the school where we were staying with several orphans -- the children had all sorts of injuries, both physical and emotional. It was terrible," Umutoni told AFP from her home in Canada.
Clubs and butcher knives
The terror only intensified when they joined the rescue convoy.
"I remember that on the road, there were many of the killers who had carried out genocide fleeing with hammers and machetes... It was chaos because the FPR was at the gates of Butare, but there were still perpetrators who wanted to kill the Tutsis," said Umutoni.
A Hutu militiaman at a checkpoint in Kigali during the genocide in June 1994
© Pierre BOUSSEL / AFP
At four of the checkpoints she remembers the militiamen armed with "clubs, butcher knives and grenades".
Umutoni and her sisters made it out and were eventually taken in by their aunts.
Her aunt sent her to Canada in 1999 "to start a new life, to start over. And I chose not to spiral into madness," said Umutoni, who now works in Canada's Privy Council Office and is a mother to "three beautiful children".
She returned to Rwanda for the first time in 2008 to bury her parents, who had finally been identified.
'Awakening'
Umubyeyi Mairesse says the 30th anniversary of the genocide is an "awakening" for many of the survivors.
"It is also the start of a broader reconnection for these convoy children -- those who were very young (when they were rescued and who) are finally learning the story. It's powerful," she said.
Since her book came out, several aid workers and convoy children she was not able to track down have contacted her.
"When someone contacts me, I explain that I can send them photos, and we try to identify which convoy they were on."
At four of the checkpoints she remembers the militiamen armed with "clubs, butcher knives and grenades".
Umutoni and her sisters made it out and were eventually taken in by their aunts.
Her aunt sent her to Canada in 1999 "to start a new life, to start over. And I chose not to spiral into madness," said Umutoni, who now works in Canada's Privy Council Office and is a mother to "three beautiful children".
She returned to Rwanda for the first time in 2008 to bury her parents, who had finally been identified.
'Awakening'
Umubyeyi Mairesse says the 30th anniversary of the genocide is an "awakening" for many of the survivors.
"It is also the start of a broader reconnection for these convoy children -- those who were very young (when they were rescued and who) are finally learning the story. It's powerful," she said.
Since her book came out, several aid workers and convoy children she was not able to track down have contacted her.
"When someone contacts me, I explain that I can send them photos, and we try to identify which convoy they were on."
Orphans queue up for food in Kigali near the end of the genocide in July 1994
© Alexander JOE / AFP
Several of the convoy children were reunited with their rescuers for the first time at the Shoah Memorial in Paris in June.
When survivor Nadine Umutoni Ndekezi, who now lives in Belgium, began speaking about her memories of the convoy, the emotion was palpable.
"We are here... because you did not give up," she said, thanking the aid workers and journalists for their courage.
'Our heroes'
Umutoni Ndekezi, who was nine at the time, told of how she came across a little boy in an orphanage in Rwanda that she used to look after back home. He had bad head wounds.
He could no longer speak or walk. "He had forgotten everything. I thought that if adults could do that, then I did not want to become an adult... I lost trust in them," she sobbed.
But thanks to the people who rescued them, Umutoni Ndekezi -- now a mental health social worker -- said she "regained hope".
"They stayed true to their values and put their own lives at risk," she told the audience.
"The boy's parents were exterminated. He left with you on June 18 -- I can never thank you enough, you saved our humanity and gave us the strength to move forward."
Other survivors concurred.
"They are our heroes, what they did was incredible," Claire Umutoni told AFP.
"I chose to live in the name of those innocents who were murdered," she declared. "To remain dignified and stand up to the killers" who wanted to wipe her and her sisters from the face of the Earth.
© 2024 AFP
Several of the convoy children were reunited with their rescuers for the first time at the Shoah Memorial in Paris in June.
When survivor Nadine Umutoni Ndekezi, who now lives in Belgium, began speaking about her memories of the convoy, the emotion was palpable.
"We are here... because you did not give up," she said, thanking the aid workers and journalists for their courage.
'Our heroes'
Umutoni Ndekezi, who was nine at the time, told of how she came across a little boy in an orphanage in Rwanda that she used to look after back home. He had bad head wounds.
He could no longer speak or walk. "He had forgotten everything. I thought that if adults could do that, then I did not want to become an adult... I lost trust in them," she sobbed.
But thanks to the people who rescued them, Umutoni Ndekezi -- now a mental health social worker -- said she "regained hope".
"They stayed true to their values and put their own lives at risk," she told the audience.
"The boy's parents were exterminated. He left with you on June 18 -- I can never thank you enough, you saved our humanity and gave us the strength to move forward."
Other survivors concurred.
"They are our heroes, what they did was incredible," Claire Umutoni told AFP.
"I chose to live in the name of those innocents who were murdered," she declared. "To remain dignified and stand up to the killers" who wanted to wipe her and her sisters from the face of the Earth.
© 2024 AFP
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