August 7, 2010
Yesterday I spoke to a close family member back in Rwanda. I hung up feeling sad and tired. Browsing online, I was reading the last letter of president Kagame to us, his people.
And honestly feeling part of the people, I wrote a comment about the financial situation of my father who has been dragged in trials for reasons that no one can really understand and dispossessed from most of his belongings that he worked really hard for.
The posting was neither a personal attack to the president, neither an attack to the country, it was pretty much a heart felt letter about how I feel about this situation and a way for me to reach out and get it out of my chest since everyone is always telling me " no dede, bireke, ntakundi" meaning "don't get involved"
What I was expecting? Compassion, advice.
Something that showed me that it is alright to have a dialogue, as Rwandans, and that we are truly concerned with the common well being of others.
Instead some people started talking about "We shouldn't not blame the poor president for every injustice, we should not think about our little being", I shouldn't be posting that type of comment on Facebook profiles, some even advising me to stop screaming over my stupid belongings or go to hell, some saying it's about time we stop crying over the death of millions".
As if no one had read it at all!!! And of course transforming the comment into a personal attack to the country. Now I have a problem with that: In my naivety, the definition of a country for me is people.
I am people, we are people and we, as people, work together for the betterment of ourselves and our livelihood and in that task we are helped by other people that we place our faith in and elect as our leaders.
But the base of our society is us, you and I, in an open dialogue about our daily challenges, hopes and aspirations.
My comment last night created quite some argument and its fine we can argue, it doesn't mean that we are not friends.
But to my astonishment, the 3 people I was going back and forth with were absolutely never concern with the story I had written but kept repeating like robots that they will vote for the president anyway as if I was campaigning against him.
First of all I don't have the desire, nor the means, nor any interest to campaign against anyone. But I do have the will to understand what the hell is going on with my dad's situation and I still believe it is everyone's right to address a president, a judge or anyone who can help with a given issue. Or am I too little and too insignificant to bother anyone with my little issues? But aren't I part of the country? Isn't my dad?
Was my mistake to be able to come up with concrete facts of injustice in election time and a period where everyone should be showing a bright smile on their face?
Well I am sorry, I am not smiling right now, I am not and I will not fake it.
When I hung up the phone I didn't want to smile. It's not an easy thing to hear your father talking about his difficulties when you know damn well he worked years to gain a little and that little was taken away. It is obvious that people seem to think that a part of the population should be sacrificed for others to live.
What dues haven't everyone paid? Since it is like so, I will write.I feel like I am standing in the middle:
On my left, killers and prisoners jailed, and some others freed and now living on the same land where my family is buried.
On my right, some privileged, apathetic and robotic citizens with obviously no grievances nor compassion or even understanding of what a political system is there for.
The poor people, I don't think they are reachable on facebook or twitter. And me in the middle, staring at all that in disbelief. There is no progress without justice at least not for those who need it.
And if you think I should be over the genocide by now, it is because you didn't go through what I’ve been through so of course you can't understand. There is no getting over it. Maybe my kids will but I won't.
That wound will always be open in me. And because I have nothing more to loose, you can't force me to walk a certain walk or talk a certain talk. And I am not superwoman so If I am feeling this way, it's because thousands of others do too. An open, sincere and honest dialogue, reparation and justice are the only first steps to real progress. Compassion instead of hypocrisy.
This is what I wrote below.
Feel free to comment, feel free not to, but don't forget that you can't swipe things or people under a rug.
"Iyadede as a Rwandan-born citizen of so-called Tutsi descent, I am starting to question the humanization of our country.Related Materials:
For one very simple reason, injustice under motives of “public interest”, two members of my family have now been trapped in endless trials because of people trying to snatch their little belongings.
My dad was dispossessed of his belongings for 13 years now, in trial after trial over things that he worked HARD to maintain for his kids under the Habyarimana regime THAT WAS NOT in favor of Tutsis.
Someone must explain to me why survivors of the genocide are being treated like no right citizens on top of loosing all our family members and friends.
The death of mines and others are the reason why Rwanda receives huge international aid, and is being looked at “kindly” by the international community.
But how is it the common interest the business of private companies and influential individuals expropriating citizens from their land, house, snatching their businesses? So we lost it all and we are not given the opportunity to move on? I love my country with all my heart, how could I not?
Growing up I looked at Kagame and Rwigema as heroes, coming to save us from the oppressing regime of Habyarimana. So did my parents, quietly and bravely, loosing an 18 year-old daughter to the cause.
Freedom came at a cost that you can absolutely not imagine if you haven't lived it. And now that freedom is here, it never felt more like shackles. I look around and wonder what I have gained and I know many others in similar situation.
This is only my personal history, and when I look at it closely, my blood boils because it's been shed and shed and shed, from my mother being kicked out of school for being Mututsi in 1976, to growing up in war not knowing where the grenade will come from, to waking up to the bodies of everyone you knew, to waiting in hope of a new day and now the day is here.
It brought a good share of INJUSTICE at least for myself. Is this progress? Really? Are we free to be and speak our mind? Are we included in the global agenda? Or were we just the lamb sacrificed for a new government to come? These are issues that our president should not overlook when reelected.
I, Iyadede Sabrina, am a loving citizen of Rwanda and I can't stand and watch my parents being disposed from everything they own. Meanwhile I am being told that the country is in a phase of unprecedented economic growth… What?”
HIE: RWANDA’S INSIDE STORY
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