Sonia Mugabo shares survival of genocide

My name is Sonia Ugirihirwe Mugabo, and I am a survivor of the 1994 Genocide of Tutsi in Rwanda. I was born in Rwanda on May 5, 1990. If all had gone as planned by the Genocide perpetrators, I would not have lived to see Jul. 4, 1994, the day that signaled the end of the 100 day mayhem. I was a target because I was born a Tutsi.
I will share my personal encounter of surviving the last and probably fastest Genocide of the 20th Century. I say fastest because one million people were killed in 100 days. If you do the Math, you will find out that for a million people who were killed in 100 days, about 10,000 people were killed every day and 417 people every hour. This sounds unrealistic, but, in Rwanda, it happened, and against all odds, I survived it!
I will also tell you how this catastrophe shaped my views on the importance of respect for life as well as respect for diversity. I will show you that there is one Rwandan defending the rights of all Rwandans. My story is one of many in our society.
Though I don’t remember every detail of the 100 days because I was very young, I still have vivid souveniers of certain events, and other moments were explained to me by my family.
Wednesday, Apr. 6, 1994, was meant be another normal day by all accounts, but as night fell, every Rwandan’s life was about to change. At around 5 p.m., my mum, my older sisters Denise (the eldest: 12 years old at the time) Teddy (7 years old at the time) and I were walking some visitors to their home in our neighborhood. My mum noticed something strange. There were men in uniform carrying weapons surrounding our home and the homes of some of our neighbor’s homes as well. These were an elite unit from the Presidential Guard. Mum, in her own words said: “I wonder what’s going to happen tonight because this is definitely unusual and not good.” Shortly after 8:20 p.m., Denise ran into the living room with the news that would change our lives forever. My dad wasn’t home yet and my brother Patrick was away at my paternal grandparents’ house in the southern part of Rwanda. We held our breath as Denise informed us that the radio announced the plane which had been carrying the Rwandan President, had just crashed! My mother’s face turned into shock but she remained calm.
Denise’s reaction was different. With apathy, she said: “It is okay Mum, now that he is gone, we may also die; but at least those who will survive will live happily without fear.” My mom smiled and told the three of us to go to bed. As my mother tucked us into bed that night, she seemed scared which was very unusual since she was always very strong and rarely showed emotions. She was a very strong person at all times. We still call her our rock.
After tucking us into bed, we heard my dad come home and since we were completely clueless about what was going on, we tried to peep in and hear what my parents were talking about. Dad was describing to Mum about the soldiers’ nervous and ultra-aggressive attitude outside our gate. As they asked him to confirm that he was the owner of our home, they ordered him to enter and stay inside his home. He knew something was terribly wrong and he could not dare ask them the reasons of their presence.
We also heard my parents talk about the danger the people would face as a consequence of the plane crash. And they were right. Scared and not knowing what to do they were trying to find a plan for all of us to escape outside the country. They were regretting why we had not fled the country in the first place, but there was no time for regrets but to act fast. They thought of taking the whole family to my grandparents’ house (my mother’s parents) since they did not live in the city and it was not too far away. There was a rumor that if anything bad was to happen, it would only be in Kigali, the capital city.
Although this seemed like a wise decision, they knew it was already late into the night and hopefully the next day an opportunity to flee would arise. Only God knew what was about to unfold.
Thursday, Apr. 7, 1994, was a very quiet day. It seemed like a Sunday because it was so calm. The city was dead and you could barely see anyone on the streets. Since morning, there were radio announcements ordering people to stay indoors, therefore my parents’ plan of taking us to our grandparents was put on hold.  Somehow with the calmness, everyone already knew that Hell had already broken loose on Rwanda. It was a matter of patience until it hit us. My parents were concerned but put on a brave face for us. They had to be strong for us.
Mom had told us to put on our favorite clothes that morning and be ready for anything. She did not mention what we were to be ready for. We all put on clothes we wore on Easter because they were the newest. We used to call them Sunday clothes. However, the only shortfall to Sunday clothes is that we were not allowed to play in the compound while wearing them.
We had to remain calm indoors, or we would make them dirty. So to make the day as normal as possible, we decided to change again and put on our everyday clothes. We then started playing happily.

THIS EXCERPT OF MUGABO'S STORY WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY GREENBEAVER. THE REST OF THE STORY, ALONG WITH AN AUDI VERSION FROM MUGABO CAN BE FOUND ON THE GREENBEAVER WEBSTITE AT: greenbeaver.org