REFINED BY FIRE 2

i

ii

Unless otherwise stated, the scriptures quoted in this book are taken from
the KJV and NIV translations of the Bible. This story is based on real life
events. However, some of the names of the people involved have been
changed to protect their identities.
Published by: Jeanne D’Arc Uwanyiligira
Ujeanne65@yahoo.fr | ISBN:978-9970-9822-0-2
Edited and typeset by: Rebecca Rugyendo
Agiriug@gmail.com
Design: Creativia Canada | Jonathan Akim Rusagara
jon.rusagara@creativia1.com | www.Creativia1.com
© Jeanne D’Arc Uwanyiligira, 2018
All rights reserved. Reproduction, storage and transmission of materials
produced in this book in electronic or manual retrieval system is prohibited.
Permission to use material in this book is needed. The publisher must be
acknowledged, and the copyright protected.
iii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who loved
me enough to die for me. He healed my pain and delivered me,
so that I may deliver others. Without Him, I would not be alive
to tell this tale.
I acknowledge my family; my dear husband Patrick and my
lovely children, for supporting and encouraging me in this life’s
journey. They held my hand when I was weak and cheered me
on in the ministry. I also want to specifically thank my elder
sister Helena for helping me during the most difficult times of
my life. To my late father, who was killed in the genocide; he
encouraged me every day, urging me to be strong because the
storm would pass. It did. I honor his memory.
I appreciate the leaders of Nathan Restoration Outreach
Ministries who have stood by me when I needed them most.
Their unrelenting support has encouraged me through the
years. Thank you!
I want to thank Rebecca Rugyendo, for editing this book and
encouraging me throughout the whole process.
To Beverley Forbes Diaby, thank you for encouraging me
throughout this journey of healing and forgiveness.
God bless you all!
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To the Lord God Almighty, without whose love and power I would not be
who I am today — a free woman. And to my dear husband, who forsook
everything for me. I dedicate this book to you.
…………………………………………………………………………………
v

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
A Childhood to Remember.................................................................1
CHAPTER TWO
Love Meets Resistance.......................................................................5
CHAPTER THREE
Out of the Shadows into the Fire......................................................13
CHAPTER FOUR
The Saddest Day of my Life...............................................................18
CHAPTER FIVE
Hated for Loving...............................................................................23
CHAPTER SIX
The Going Gets Tough......................................................................31
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Stench of Death.........................................................................37
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Aftermath..................................................................................46
CHAPTER NINE
Unshackled.......................................................................................54
CHAPTER TEN
Dealing with Bitterness and Learning to Forgive.............................59
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Peace of Mind and the Bumpy Road to Freedom ...........................70
CHAPTER TWELVE
Delivered to Deliver.........................................................................75
vi

PREFACE
When I think about my roots, I come to terms with the
complexity of human relationships. Before the Belgians
colonized Rwanda, it was a monarchy that had been ruled by the
minority Tutsi ethnic group for many years. Two new countries
emerged in 1962 — Rwanda, dominated by the Hutus, and
Burundi by the Tutsis — and the ethnic fighting flared on and off
in the following decades. The majority Hutus in Rwanda
overthrew the Tutsi monarchy and tens of thousands of Tutsis
fled to neighboring countries, including Uganda, DR Congo and
Tanzania. Fighting continued until a 1993 peace deal was signed.
Unfortunately, it exploded into the genocide against the Tutsis
in 1994. During the approximate 100-day period from April 7 to
mid-July 1994, an estimated 500,000 –1,000,000 Rwandans
were killed, constituting as much as 70% of the Tutsi and 20%
of Rwanda’s total population
When I began dealing with ethnicity, I was caught in a whirlpool
of conflict borne out of divisions among my fellow country
people, with whom we spoke the same language. Having grown
up among people who lived in harmony, shared the little they
had, donated cows to each other and freely inter-married, I was
now like a child waking up from the worst nightmare. During
that time, I asked my parents why they had not told us about
these deep-seated divisions, to which they said they did not
want us to know about the differences at such an early stage.
They obviously wanted to protect us from what they themselves
had experienced while growing up. They had been forced to
leave their land to start new lives as internally displaced people
in uninhabited forests. After hearing their account, I understood
why they had shielded us from the truth. It was for our own good
after all, because had they told us about it, I know I would have
grown up with hatred in my heart. Being aware of those
problems during my childhood would have shaped my life
differently.
vii

As I matured, I finally came to understand that when one does
not know the extent of a problem, they tend to underestimate
it; only to suffer the consequences later, all the while hoping the
situation will change. With time, they get familiar with it and
even personalize it. When they realize they cannot do anything
about it, they leave it to time and chance, waiting to see what
the future will bring. They eventually learn to live with the
problem and even become a part of it. My parents’ testimony,
however, helped me to fully understand the background of the
ethnic differences in Rwanda
and the problems they had caused. I was also equipped to face
the problems that were otherwise new to me. For quite some
time, I had been wondering why the problem was as serious as
it was, but my parents’ testimony helped me understand it. At
the time I discovered the differences, I was abroad, living with a
relative who had fled the country. It was then that I realized I
did not know how and why he had fled. I had just accepted what
I had been told as part of our country’s history but hadn’t taken
time to understand and analyze the details.
I naively thought the past was never going to repeat itself. I
somehow thought the people had learnt from what had
happened in the past and, better still, were now educated
enough not to do anything so hateful. Little did I know that what
I was yet to experience would have severe effects that would
stay with me for the rest of my life. Imagine yourself fighting in
the dark with no hope of being rescued. When you stay too long
in the dark, you become accustomed to it and before long you
master it enough to fight even better than those who cast you
there. This is because you have known every corner of your dark
surrounding. I stayed so long in the ‘dark’ that my heart could
not relate to anything other than self-defense. Discovering my
identity in God was the explanation I was seeking, and the
answer to my problems.
I found peace when I understood that God created human
beings in His image and breathed His breath into us. Only then
viii

was I able to know the true value of the inner man. Have you
ever wondered why and how some of the most unimaginable
atrocities in history were committed by the most unexpected
individuals? God did not create man with an evil heart. Man was
originally created pure and innocent. However, his nature fell
from this innocent state when he was beguiled by Satan, the
tempter and deceiver of old. And when man’s heart got
corrupted, out of it began to flow all sorts of evil. We became
helpless, naturally giving ourselves to do on the outward – as a
result of our corrupted thought process – abominable things.
There is a need therefore to surrender this inner man to our
Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ because if we do not, our thought
processes will result in sin, and we know that the end result of
this is DEATH (Romans 6:23).
Many Rwandans need healing and deliverance from the hatred,
grudges and divisions deeply rooted in their hearts. They have
become a sad chapter of history that is recounted to them over
and over again. While some are still grieving the loss of their
loved ones, others are dealing with the guilt of living with
relatives of people they killed. The bereaved are constantly
reminded of their lost loved ones by their murderers who freely
live among them. At the same time, those responsible for taking
these innocent lives have to nurse guilt and regret whenever
they see surviving relatives of their victims. As some surviving
victims decide to get their revenge, those
who killed are still killing witnesses in a bid to bury any traces of
evidence, cover up the gruesome reminders and silence the
tormenting voice of guilt; and so, the cycle continues. Like most
Christians do, Rwandans have either forgotten or never really
known the scripture in Romans 12:19 that says, “Do not take
revenge my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it
is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.” This
is a clear instruction to us not to take revenge, but to leave it to
God, the true avenger. We are to bless our persecutors and not
curse them, knowing that every sin has consequences, every
deed has a reward and there’s fruit for every seed sown. Romans
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12:21 says, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with
good.”
Many Rwandans have suffered with wounds from the past just
like I did. We were all broken people that needed healing. As
days went on, the burden for the restoration of my people
became heavier on me, and in the process, I grew in salvation
and in the work of God. The more I prayed, the more I realized
that salvation and forgiveness was needed among the people. I
came to understand that failure to forgive hurts the victim more
than it does those that need to be forgiven. I started thinking of
ways I could reach as many people as I could to tell them about
forgiveness. There was no way my voice alone could be heard. I,
then, began to look at my life experience as training ground for
the work that was ahead of me. Had I not been trained the way
I was, I would never have turned out the way I did. I started
asking God to tell me what I could tell people who were facing
various problems. Whether they were problems similar to mine
or not did not really matter. All I needed were people who were
burdened, so that they could be released the way I was released.
The most pressing message I wanted to pass on to them was
that forgiveness was for their benefit more than for those that
hurt them. With time, the idea of sharing my testimony came to
my mind, and that is how this book was birthed.
Making the decision to write my story was not easy. This is
something that affected me personally and involved my
relatives, friends and loved ones. However, after encountering
the saving grace of my Lord Jesus Christ, I remembered His
words in Mathew 10:8, where He says; “Heal the sick, cleanse the
lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received,
freely give.” With this in mind, I set out to freely share the love
and forgiveness God gave me. In spite of the constant voices of
condemnation reminding us of the wrong we have done, we
must throw out all pessimism and appreciate the good that we
already have in Jesus Christ. Healing and forgiveness did not
come automatically for me. It took the grace of God, working in
me through the revelation of His free gift of salvation and
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forgiveness of my sin. I thank God for the wonderful gift of the
Holy Spirit, who opened my eyes to this reality. I decided to
share my testimony so that many Rwandans and other people
worldwide with similar experiences could get out of the
darkness and enter into the marvelous light of our Lord Jesus
Christ. As you read this book, may the Holy Spirit open your
heart to receive the healing, peace and true love only He can
give. Freely receive forgiveness, freely give it. From my heart to
yours,
Jeanne D’Arc Uwanyiligira
June 2018
Kigali/Rwanda
xi

A CHILDHOOD TO REMEMBER
I was born in Gitarama, a southern province in Rwanda. I am the
second born in a family of four children. My father was a nurse
and was always transferred from place to place because of the
nature of his job. A medical official in the rural areas was
considered a very important person, and our home always
hosted many people, who came as regular visitors, and others as
patients seeking my father’s services. We, therefore, made
friends with very many people and learnt many different
cultures. Everybody was welcome at home. What stood out for
me is how my father treated everyone equally. At the time of the
events I remember of my childhood, my father was working as a
nursing officer stationed at a nearby catholic mission and
convent. Wherever we lived, children in the neighborhood
called him ‘father’ because he nurtured them in one way or
another. My parents taught us to love everybody. My childhood
was a peaceful one and I had never heard of any ethnic-related
problems in my family, let alone our neighborhood. I had only
heard about an incident in history, nothing more

I started school, but because my father was always on the move,
he sometimes let us stay at the convent during school days and
we joined him and my mother wherever they would have posted
him during school holidays. As I spent a long time with nuns in
this convent, it eventually became my childhood dream to
become a nun.
That dream, however, was only to last as long as I was in school,
because whenever I returned home, life went on as usual. I
remember some moments in school, when we were asked to
stand according to our ethnic groups; I stood up as a Tutsi one
day and as a Hutu the next, simply because I did not quite know
which group I belonged to. I did not know why they asked us to
stand according to our ethnic groups. I could not ask my
teacher, because it was regarded as insolence for a child to seek
an explanation to a matter not related to what they were taught
in class. Whenever I tried to ask my parents, they did not give
me a clear explanation, and only convinced me that the teachers
wanted to know our numbers. However, at the back of my mind,
it always felt like there was something creepy and very
unsettling about my roots. I could not put my finger to it, but
there was always an uneasy feeling about me that refused to go
away. I wish I knew what it was going to be, I would have
prepared myself. Unfortunately, I did not.
When I grew older and my father had retired, I went to stay with
my elder sister Helena in a place called Remera, a distance away
from my childhood home. One night, we were invited to attend
a party in the neighborhood and among the invited guests was
a young man, who introduced himself as Patrick. He was very
handsome, seemed amiable and particularly calm. He was
striking! As the evening wound down, amidst splendid music,
great food and cheerful banter, it felt like the world was at my
feet! Life was delightful. Looking back, those were some of my
best experiences as a young adult. Sure enough, my sister and I
had pleasant company for the rest of the evening. We talked
about a lot of things and about each other. As our conversation
progressed, I immediately noted that he was from the Hutu
2

ethnic group. Right up to that point, it didn’t matter where he
was from. Here was a nice man, making us laugh and being great
company.
However, the moment it became apparent that he was from
another ethnic group different from mine, the red flags went up
and I knew I had to tread cautiously. The political situation in
Rwanda was becoming sensitive. During that time, the very idea
that a Hutu and a Tutsi were close friends was akin to signing a
death sentence. Sitting on the same table was unheard of. As a
young girl growing up, I did not know the complex issues
surrounding my roots. As I advanced in school and began to
study history, I learnt that the largest ethnic groups in Rwanda
are the Hutus (about 85% of the population), the Tutsis (the
group to which I belong) make up about 14% and the Twa, 1%.
Starting with the Tutsi feudal monarchy rule of the 10th century,
the Hutus had always been a subjugated social group. That was
bound to cause conflict. As we wined and dined with Patrick that
evening, there was no knowing what would happen to us if we
got closer to him.
Getting close to him was a serious matter; in fact, so serious that
if I decided to befriend him, the decision and its effects would
live with me for the rest of my life. However, during the
subsequent months after our meeting, I got to know a bit more
about Patrick. He said he lived in France, where he was pursuing
a bachelor’s degree in Economics. At the party, he had said he
was only in Rwanda on holiday to see his family. As he divulged
more about his life, I later discovered that his father was a highranking
government official in the government at the time.
That was a profound discovery because now, I was not just
dealing with an ordinary guy. Patrick was from an influential
family and that came with its own challenges. Was I dealing with
something bigger than myself? I thought he was good company
at the party but convinced myself that it would end there.
Considering he was a Hutu and I a Tutsi, there was no way our
friendship would live to see the light of day. That was a deadlock
3

ight there and there was no wasting time getting to know him
more. I knew that was the end of us seeing each other. I knew I
could never expect anything serious to come out of that first
meeting. However, as fate would have it, we kept in touch even
after he returned to France. Life revolves around the choices we
make. I had the choice either to keep Patrick as my friend or
forget about him and move on with life. However, for some
unexplainable reason, I felt he was someone I wanted in my life.
I didn’t know it then, but, that decision would either make or
break me. The choice was entirely up to me.
4

LOVE MEETS RESISTANCE
My mother’s sister, aunt Miriam, is married to a French national,
and lives abroad. In 1989, I left my sister Helena’s home and
moved to France to stay with my aunt. While there, I
reconnected with Patrick and our friendship grew stronger.
However, I knew we could only be that – good friends. I could
not entertain any thoughts beyond regular friendship because
of the possible ramifications. The Hutu/Tutsi divide was getting
worse. Patrick belonged to the Hutu ethnic group, which was
also the ruling ethnic group under the late president, Juvenal
Habyarimana. Bearing in mind the history of the country, it was
unthinkable that a Hutu could be in a close relationship of any
nature with a Tutsi.
However, as nature would have it, we kept seeing each other
without any serious commitment for a period of five years. Life
abroad — far from my family and loved ones — was unbearable.
This is probably why the bond between Patrick and I grew
stronger. He represented security and hope in a foreign land. I
looked for part-time jobs and was able to save some money to
pay for a hostel. Patrick provided the much needed emotional
5

and social support during this time. He helped me identify a
hostel and I soon moved out of my aunt’s home. He was living
with his sisters at the time. Little did I know that the decision to
leave my aunt’s home would cement the bond between us even
more. As the days slipped by, a conflict began to brew within my
soul.
While the emotional part of me was growing deeper and deeper
in love with Patrick, the logical part of me wondered what I was
getting myself into. Some days I would wake up troubled, a little
apprehensive of what could come out of this forbidden union.
However, the more the months and years passed by, the harder
it became to keep away from Patrick. Inevitably, our relationship
evolved from a deep friendship to a romantic one. We started
dating secretly. The year that followed this development was
surreal. We were in love and like any other couple attracted to
each other, we did everything possible in the circumstances to
build a strong relationship. As we were beginning to really grow
as lovers, our worst fear began to unfold. Word of our
relationship started doing the rounds among our friends and the
few family members living in France then.
I watched in horror as my short-lived romance quickly turned
into a nightmare. Suddenly, I was a wanted woman. Patrick’s
father sent out spies to find me and put an end to my
relationship with his son. I was forced to go into hiding by
moving from state to state. Whenever I knew that they were
stalking me in one state, I quickly moved to another, incognito.
The next step was to use force. I was declared a wanted person,
and the department of military intelligence through the
Rwandan Embassy in France was given the task to arrest me
because I was now considered a criminal. They bought an airline
ticket for my deportation. The plan was that once I arrived in
Rwanda, I would be jailed. They maintained that I was a threat
to the security of the country and accused me of treason. The
manhunt started in a foreign country as the decision was made
at a high level of a respected country’s institution. Why had the
Government invested so much in hunting me down?
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As the search intensified, I continued hiding moving from one
friend’s place to another and from state to state. After the
embassy official failed to find me, he delivered the deportation
ticket to Patrick’s residence, with clear instructions to hand it
to me the moment he saw me. An announcement was also made
to all Rwandans with connections to the government at the
time, to join the search to have me arrested. I couldn’t believe
what was happening to me. One moment I was a free Rwandan,
building my relationship with the man I loved, the next moment
I was wanted dead or alive. A dark cloud of fear and
hopelessness hang over me. I started getting depressed and
hating my waking moments. I had never harmed or picked up a
fight with anyone. I had not done anyone any wrong, but I was
being hunted down like a fugitive for no crime I had committed
whatsoever. Rwandans living in France had one instruction, “If
you see her, inform the police!” When I was told that it was
because I was in love that they wanted my head, I was flustered.
I was raised to love and care for people. I grew up knowing that
love is a good thing. How could I be so endangered and
frightened because I loved someone? How could this happen to
me? My soul was severely tormented. The whole scenario was
outright ridiculous. Anyhow, to save my skin, I lived a
clandestine lifestyle of hiding and fleeing any Rwandan I met.
My life began to have a very bitter taste to it.
Persecution is part of our life here on earth. No one is immune
to it and no one chooses it, let alone doing anything to deserve
it. As a matter of fact, the victim usually does not deserve the
harsh treatment they receive. I learnt some things from being a
victim of persecution that have shaped my life. First, I learnt that
suffering is not the end of our lives. More importantly, though, I
also learnt that being bad does not provide the satisfaction
usually sought after. You don’t gain anything by being a bad
person. People in powerful positions often use the positions
they hold in society to oppress others. They, however, never
stop to think about the consequences thereof. The Bible says in
Galatians 6:7; “Do not be deceived. God cannot be mocked. A
man reaps what he sows”
7

It is unfortunate that some people are born better than others –
according to worldly standards. Some are born into royal
families, others have rich parents and relatives, while others are
born intellectuals. It is just the way life is. We all cannot be the
same. Absurdly, many times, the advantaged persons naturally
have a sense of superiority over the disadvantaged just by virtue
of their social status. They even feel the need to control their
disadvantaged counterparts. Some go as far as determining the
rights and restrictions of the disadvantaged ones. They dictate
what should be done and the way things should go. Failure to do
as they dictate automatically means severe punishment.
Sometimes power and influence fall in the wrong hands. When
that happens, it is no longer an issue of social status. Rather,
everyone is at the mercy of the influential person, robbed of
their will and utterly voiceless. The victims of such oppression
often feel overwhelmed and lose control. The sense of
hopelessness strips them of all capacity to think of a solution,
and they can only wait for deliverance. Thanks be to God, the
only true liberator and savior. He will always come to the rescue
of the marginalized, the voiceless and oppressed as long as they
trust in Him and count on His deliverance. The more I thought
about my life as a fugitive, the more distraught I became. How
could someone hate me and hunt me down because I loved a
man? It did not make sense. As the search went on, I knew it
would be a matter of time before they extradited me. I had to
leave the college hostel I was staying in immediately. I lived in
different parts of France and occasionally went to Aunt Miriam’s
home. When I run out of options, I knew it was time to take a
radical step to save my life. With Patrick’s support, I decided to
go and live with him. Looking back, I don’t regret making that
decision.
First, it was the most secure place I could find at the time
because there was security. As children of a government official,
Patrick and his sisters had security detail offered by the
Rwandan embassy in France. Secondly, Patrick and I figured that
their apartment would be the last place they would expect me
8

to hide. After all, embassy officials and the police attached to the
mission had already been there several times before and had not
found me. When I got there, to my pleasant surprise, his sisters
embraced me and agreed to hide me. They ensured I was safely
tucked away from the preying eyes of the police.
For the first time in the many months I had been hunted down,
I relaxed. I began to sleep soundly at night, something that had
eluded me since I fell in love with Patrick. Their gesture of
sisterly love was a huge relief for me. It strengthened my
trembling heart and I began to feel like there was hope for me
after all. Patrick’s siblings had not fully come to terms with my
relationship with their brother, but when they saw how
ferociously the Rwandan embassy officials and the police were
looking for me, they felt the need to put our ethnic differences
aside and to protect me, first, as someone they knew their
brother had a soft spot for and secondly, as a human being. I
momentarily felt very safe. Patrick and his siblings did not
mention anything about my whereabouts to their parents again.
They decided to protect me.
From my experience, I learnt that in life, there will always be two
types of people – the good and the bad. Even Adam, the first man
to be created, fathered two sons who were very different; and
that is why Isaac’s offspring formed two nations. There are many
such examples in history and in everyday life. It taught me not
to generalize characters when dealing with people. It is not right
to brand everyone bad, that is related to one bad person; and
neither is it not right to assume that any person related to one
good person is just as good. Every person is unique, and Satan
leads us into temptation differently. Some of us are easily
tempted while others can resist temptation to a 9 certain
degree. While in hiding, I was blessed to have support from my
husband’s family who lived abroad. They accepted me and
protected me from those who were looking for me. They knew
the repercussions of sheltering someone from the other ethnic
group, but they risked their lives for me. Being in close
relationship to one of them was dangerous enough for both of
9

us. Now, here I was putting the lives of an entire family at risk
with former Rwandan Government authorities. I was suspected
of treason and espionage and I was a wanted and hated person,
but they overlooked these accusations and sheltered me.
I still thank God for His gracious hand over our lives. I was
reminded of the verse in the bible that says there is still hope for
those waiting for God’s rescue. The bible further says in
Galatians 6:2 that we should bear one another’s burdens; and I
believe that it is for situations like these that the verse is in the
bible. These circumstances went on for a long time, but I stayed
with Patrick’s family until the situation calmed down. The
assistance from different people during those hard moments
will forever be in my memory. With all endeavors to find and get
rid of me meeting a dead end, Patrick and his family abroad
started having issues with their upkeep from their powerful
father back home. They couldn’t access any assistance and
provision that was allocated to foreigners in crisis. They started
living in misery, as I had been, and their only crime was that they
did not denounce the ‘enemy’ I had been branded. Their living
conditions were getting worse by the day, to the point that we
were not able to pay rent. We began to starve and shortly after
began to auction all the valuable items we had in the house in
order to pay debts. We slowly adapted to the harsh conditions.
We sometimes make tough decisions when we are in
disagreement with whoever opposes them. If you know that
what you are doing is not a bad thing and that what you
undertake doesn’t undermine anybody, keep going because
what matters most is self-determination and perseverance.
Once you are in harmony with your conscience, then you need
to have hope and stand firm on your decision. Even when people
are against your plans, you should not feel as if you are mistaken
in what you intend to do. Sometimes people may subject you to
hardships and depending on your reaction, they can proffer
false accusations against you. This is why we need to have
courage and wisdom to overcome difficult situations.
10

Otherwise, we can make mistakes which may provide
ammunition to our detractors.
In such an unenviable situation I was in, it was not easy to
express my feelings. Nobody could understand the pain and
burden I carried in my heart. I could not tell anyone in Rwanda
that I was being persecuted. I simply endured it. At some point
I considered going back home in the hope that I would be free,
but the thought of being jailed on 10 arrivals discouraged me. I
was traumatized. Whenever I saw someone approaching, I
thought they were after me. I soon developed fear and hatred
for everyone I met. I isolated myself. However, God was with me,
and He somehow hid me from those who were looking for me,
even when I was right there with them. They eventually stopped
hunting me down, thinking I had run away. I did not suffer any
physical harm, but the emotional and psychological stress did
take a toll on me.
After a while, my persecutors thought I had abandoned my plans
of staying with Patrick. For a short while they forgot about me.
When the hunt stopped, nobody knew where I was because
whenever information reached me that the delegation from the
embassy was looking for me, I changed locations. When they
were finally convinced that I was not there, they withdrew,
although some people were still tasked with the responsibility
of making sure I did not resurface. I isolated myself from the
Rwandan community, which was difficult for me, given that I
was still a young girl who needed friends and peers. Exclusion
and isolation are the worst things that can happen to someone
facing the kind of problems I was facing. It is very easy for
demons to influence your life, or even take it. A spiritual prison
is worse than a physical one, and it can best be described by my
life experience.
The challenge is that when you are victimized in this way, the
one persecuting you portrays you as a bad person just to make
you unacceptable in society and justify their reasons for
tormenting you. They accuse you of many false things. For lack
11

of trust, people will look at you from the outward, and
immediately misjudge the person on the inside. At this point,
they immediately start viewing you as an enemy. The door of
hatred is opened, and they start detesting you, especially when
there are other people motivating them to do so. This is what
happened to me. People around me started making false
assumptions and predictions. I call them false because no one
can claim to know what is inside another person’s heart unless
they are illuminated by the Holy Spirit. None of us can predict
the future or know what our end will be like. Only God knows
our future. When we know this for sure, we cannot count on any
other person but God.
12

OUT OF THE SHADOWS, INTO THE FIRE
In 1992, while I was living with Patrick, I conceived. Any mother
reading this can attest to the joy I felt deep within. Becoming a
mother is the best experience any woman can have. The
knowledge that a life is growing inside you is truly fascinating.
However, as it dawned on me that I was carrying a child, fear
and uncertainty engulfed me. The news that I was pregnant
sparked off a total turn of events. Everything around us started
to change. It was time to face reality. For starters, I dropped out
of school because I could not keep up with the physical and
emotional changes that were happening to me. I missed home. I
missed my mother and wished she was with me to help me
navigate the unfamiliar terrain of being with child. While I was
trying to find my footing, I began to worry about the fate of my
relationship with Patrick. I had heard perturbing stories of
reckless men who abandoned their women after they
conceived. I had the tormenting fear that Patrick would do the
same. What a frightening occurrence that would have been.
However, Patrick did no such thing. He comforted and loved me
and made it clear that he was taking responsibility of his baby.
As a matter of fact, after discovering I was going to have his
baby, Patrick felt it was time to come out of hiding and take
responsibility. As a man, he knew that hiding wouldn’t
13

accomplish anything. Hiding was like postponing the problem
and not dealing with it. How long would we hide?
“It is time for me to make our relationship formal. I have to
declare my intentions to your Aunt,” he said. What a happy
woman I was. The fact that we were surrounded by these
complicated circumstances had not stopped Patrick from
formalizing our relationship. That spoke volumes to me and
strengthened my weak heart. The fear from being harassed for
loving a man was compounded by my assumption that Patrick
could throw in the towel like other men I had heard about.
Where would I go if he did? What would I do if I had been
rejected in a foreign land with a baby coming? I shudder to
imagine the bleak possibilities that would have accompanied
that unpleasant decision.
So, it came to pass that, not only did Patrick pay Aunt Miriam a
formal visit, but he went ahead and told his parents back home
in Rwanda about his intentions to marry me, and the fact that
we were already expecting our first child. This news spread like
a wildfire and tore through the family like a tornado. Patrick’s
father threw a fit. His Rwandan family was absolutely enraged.
Ultimatums and curses were unleashed upon us. Patrick became
worse than the proverbial black sheep of the family. I do not
think we were well prepared to deal with the consequences of
the resolution we had made to get married. As Patrick’s family
hurled hurtful words at him, they pierced our souls like sharp
daggers. Our hearts bled. Our souls ached. Our minds were
perplexed. What were we going to do next? The confusion and
despondency were indescribable.
As the dust of the pronouncement of our impending nuptials
began to settle, the grim reality of the decision we had made
began to manifest. In the aftermath of this decision, the
malevolent streak of human nature was unleashed through
Patrick’s father, who saw his son as a rebellious juvenile
delinquent. He therefore set out to punish him in the cruelest
ways imaginable. He terminated Patrick’s scholarship and told
14

him to get out and carve a life for himself. The pain and
disappointment Patrick went through cannot be described on
these pages. Here was a young man watching his future and
dreams crumble at his feet because he was in love with a
forbidden woman. His future and career were at stake. His life
was in danger because of our relationship. The antagonistic
swords came out full swing, ready to rip us apart. The weeks that
followed this incident were like a hurricane that hit our lives
with great might.
As the threats and accusations tore through our emotions,
Patrick was faced with a very difficult decision. He had to choose
between staying with me and risking banishment or considering
his comfort and leaving me. I am not a man; therefore, I cannot
fully appreciate what he had to deal with emotionally, but I can
only imagine the pain, confusion and distress Patrick underwent
on account of me. He had grown up in these luxuries of a
wealthy and influential family. Was he ready to live like a pauper
13 and destitute because of me? Would he readily pay this
enormous price for me? He saw my anxious countenance and
even though he needed more encouragement than I did, he
reached out and comforted me. Patrick reassured me that he
was determined to keep me as the mother of his children and
that no one was going to convince him otherwise.
These were very difficult days in my life. There were many
nights I sat up awake, unable to sleep. How could one be
segregated against on account of their tribe and ethnicity? Did
they choose to be a Hutu or Tutsi? I had frequent bouts of
anxiety attacks sometimes, wondering what the future held. I
kept wondering why a family would incessantly sow seeds of
discord among itself rather than foster love and brotherhood.
Even if Patrick had committed a grave sin by choosing to love
me, was that the best way to treat him? He was their own flesh
and blood and they chose to alienate him because of racial
prejudice. How malignant human nature can be! Jeremiah 17:9
says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked: who can know it?” As I pondered over what was
15

happening, this verse and many others like it began to unfold
before my eyes. When the intentions of our hearts are fully
exposed, some of the issues that flow out of it are inconceivable.
Hatred, disunity and malice, all in one package, directed from
one human being to another is hard to fathom. That time in our
lives was characterized by fear and uncertainty. We did not
know what the future held but continued to be optimistic that
there would be a silver lining on this dark cloud that had
engulfed us.
The daggers had been drawn. The fight was on. The contrast
between Patrick’s family and mine was glaring. I grew up in a
fairly loving home where everyone was welcome. Strangers
would stop by for medical consultations with my father and
some would share a meal with us and continue their journey
thereafter. My father’s house was a safe haven for everyone. The
idea that a son would be ostracized on account of loving a
woman of his choice was disheartening to me. Now that Patrick
had decided to marry me, would they accept me in their home?
How was I going to raise our children in such a hostile
environment? Was I ready to explain these unpleasant
circumstances to them? The vibes I was getting from Patrick’s
larger family were mostly unfriendly and divisive. No one in their
right mind would want to stay in such an environment, would
they? However, my love for Patrick was deeper than the
prevailing aggressive circumstances. Our bond grew stronger
than the hatred and ethnic rivalry. The question for me then was
- would our love stand the test of that fiery furnace?
As the days turned into months, Patrick stuck to his guns. He
was not letting me go, irrespective of what his family said or did.
The hotter the fire blazed, the stronger his resolve to stick it out
with me became. When his folks saw that nothing was going to
deter him from living with me even before the formal marriage,
they relented. They realized that he had made his bed and he
was willing to sleep in it. Back in Rwanda, a family meeting was
called in which they agreed to start plans for our wedding. Now
here was the irony; instead of jubilating and dancing for joy at
16

my upcoming wedding, I was disconcerted. This news came
with an uneasy feeling for me because I felt like this family
decision to allow us to formalize our relationship had been made
under duress. I felt it was not made from love or good intentions
but out of anger. A sense of gloom hung over me because I felt
we had been rejected and nothing good was bound to come out
of such a union. The hypocrisy of it all was crushing.
Then, there was another glitch – the trip to Rwanda. How on
earth was I going back to Kigali after being hunted down like a
dangerous enemy of the state? Word had gone around that I was
a “wrong element” wanted by the police. My tormentors had
painted me in very negative light and I did not know if anyone
would want to associate with me when I got back home. Who
wants to be around a criminal? No one! And to imagine that the
felony was love was incredulous! Hated for loving. It was
unbelievable. My family was puzzled. They had learnt about
what was happening and they could have none of it. They did
not understand why I would want to be with a guy whose family
had security forces hunting for me. My perplexed friends, whom
I had gone to school with, were equally worried about me. They
said in going ahead with my decision, I was burying myself alive.
What a declaration. Nonetheless, although these possibilities
frightened me, I had already gone too far to jump out.
I knew that boarding that plane from France to Rwanda was
going to be the biggest sacrifice of my life, because I was also
not sure what awaited me. Had I not conceived, maybe I would
have walked away from it all. However, at that time, the game
plan had changed. Go I had to and go I went. My only hope and
security was the child I carried. Patrick’s family did not mind the
baby. I knew they had accepted the child and wanted to keep it.
However, I also knew that they didn’t want me as much.
Nevertheless, I accepted to go back to Rwanda for our wedding.
Our plan was to travel, get married and then return to France
and complete school. However, God had other plans
17

THE SADDEST DAY OF MY LIFE
In accordance with God’s plans, time came for us to get married.
This did not happen easily because we had been through a fiveyear
struggle during which people tried all possible ways to stop
us from getting married. Many high-level decision-making
authorities held meetings to discuss ways of separating us and
we received many threats, but all that was in vain. It finally
happened in September 1992 and there was nothing anyone
could do to stop the purpose of God upon our lives.
Six years after living in France, I returned to Rwanda two weeks
before our marriage. I was so afraid. An airline ticket had been
sent earlier for me to be deported and I had hidden. Now there
I was, as if handing myself over. I did not make any preparations
for our marriage. First, I did not believe that I would actually get
married. Then, I thought more about death than about marriage.
In fact, the season of our wedding felt more like a time of
mourning, because no one was in the mood to celebrate
anything. Also, I had not adequately prepared. I hadn’t been
there to ensure everything went smoothly. Everyone had
questions. Many greatly feared what would happen, expecting
gunfire and grenade blasts any moment. No one spoke freely
and there was a lot of whispering in case any communication
18

had to be done. There was no security whatsoever. It felt like
watching a thriller marked by high tension. I constantly
encouraged myself with Romans 8:32, “If God be for us, who can
be against us?”
We are not to fear, because when we are with Him and under
His everlasting love, whatever we undertake comes to fruition.
There was a lot of information that was going around, intended
to confuse people so that they do not attend the wedding. Many
people asked questions like, “Why did you go on with your
marriage plans even when people were against it for five years?”
“What makes you think that all those who opposed it will not
make sure it fails?” We returned to Rwanda because we wanted
to celebrate our wedding with our families. It was not in our plan
to settle there. We planned to relocate abroad immediately after
our wedding.
It is very rare to find a woman who has not read the “Cinderella”
fairy tale and dreamed about marrying her prince. By the time
most women reach the age of 13, they have already planned out
the details of their dream wedding. They know the colors, the
music they want to be played, the guest list and the shoes they
want to wear. The bouquet must be perfect and the maids
splendid. Growing up, I was no exception to this rule, only that
when my day came, I did not get to plan anything concerning
my wedding. I had always envisioned my wedding day to be
blissful, colorful, joyful and memorable. Unfortunately, none of
these things happened on my wedding day. It turned out to be
the worst day of my life. I took the flight to Rwanda just five days
to our wedding day because I was afraid of what could have
happened to me if I had gone earlier. I knew there would have
been a torrent of questions and I would not have known how to
answer them. I did not even know what I would have told my
mother if she had asked me how I had gotten myself entangled
in that mess. So, here I was, supposed to plan a wedding in five
days – how would that even happen? I surrendered everything
to God and trusted Him to see us through.
19

When I landed in Kigali, my fears started coming to pass. I have
never felt that jinxed in all my life like I did that time! It was a
case of damned if you will — because I was declared a criminal
by the family I was getting married into, and damned if you won’t
— because I had a baby coming on the way and I had already
accepted Patrick’s proposal. I, therefore, threw all caution to the
wind and decided to go. The wedding preparations happened so
fast, it was like a bad dream. Before we knew it, the day was upon
us.
I run short of words trying to explain what the mood was like on
our wedding day. It looked and felt more like a funeral than
anything else. Never before had I seen a wedding where all the
guests were cold, afraid, angry and sad. Everyone who attended
was grief-stricken and forlorn. A few people gathered in pairs of
two or three and started whispering about the dramatic events
they had heard happened in France prior to our return to
Rwanda. A few minutes before the ceremony started, tracts had
been
handed out in the community announcing that our wedding had
been canceled and that those who planned to attend needed to
find other things to do on that day. An announcement
proclaiming the said cancellation of the wedding had been made
on the Rwanda national radio to the same effect. Of all the
horrors I would have feared to befall me, I did not anticipate
that. I always dreamed of a perfect wedding day. Who would
not? Looking back, I do not know how that wretched day ended.
Can you imagine sitting at your wedding and you hear an
announcement on radio that your wedding has been cancelled?
It was the most torturous day of my life.
As rumors and controversies surrounding our wedding spread
throughout the city, Patrick and I braced ourselves for the worst
that could happen. We knew it was not going to be easy and so
we had to tighten our belts of truth and stand firm. We,
however, never got to know who exactly was behind the
distribution of the tracts and radio announcement; whether it
20

was Patrick’s family or mine or even other political figures, we
will never know. However, in all the gloom and misery that took
place that day, the bold step Patrick and I made distinguished us
as some of the bravest people of our time. On our wedding day,
history was made. In 1992/93, it was extremely rare —
practically impossible, as a matter of fact — to hear of a mixed
marriage between a Hutu and a Tutsi in Rwanda. Absolutely
impossible. According to statistics available then, only one
percent of marriages in Rwanda consisted of a union between a
Hutu and a Tutsi. What made it all worse was the fact that it
happened at the height of the Hutu-Tutsi ethnic rivalry. One,
therefore had to be extremely careful about their actions.
Although Patrick’s father had agreed to the marriage, he made it
clear to him that he would never have a share of his inheritance
because what he was about to do was strange and he was
responsible for his actions. This was a price too high to pay for
both of us and our friends and relatives wondered what
compelled us to do this. It was love, we told them. The Bible
mentions the three most important and most enduring pillars of
life — faith, hope and love, but the greatest is love (1 Corinthians
13:13). We certainly knew that each of us was being seen as a
traitor by our families and other people from our ethnicities.
The wedding took place in my rural area in Gitarama and the
reception was held in Kigali. Security at both functions was
extremely tight. We had our college-mates stand by us as
matron and best man. The mood was extremely tense and all
those who were present expected the worst at any moment – a
bullet or even bomb blast. Can you imagine these being the
paramount emotions at your wedding, a day that is supposed to
be full of love, laughter and joy? Anyhow, the ceremony finally
took place. Two months after the wedding, we were preparing
to return to France where we had left all our belongings. To our
surprise, however, Patrick got a job offer
from his father. Patrick’s father owned an import and export
company in Rwanda and so he asked his son to manage it
because it was being mismanaged and run down by his workers.
21

If there was anything Patrick longed for at that time, it was
reconciliation between him and his parents. When his father
made this offer, Patrick saw it as a perfect opportunity to make
amends. It was too tempting to turn down. He took it up and
worked there for two months as the Managing Director of the
company. In the course of executing his duties, he travelled to
Spain and Italy often, leaving me in Kigali. I began to feel like
things were going to work out after all. I began to hope again
and attempted to smile again. Maybe, just maybe, we were going
to make it.
Meanwhile, after the wedding, in a kind gesture, Patrick’s father
had given us free accommodation, something we were thankful
for. It was almost unbelievable that this was the same man who
had wanted my head dead or alive. What had changed? How
could it be that the man who sent spies and security agents in
France to have me deported or possibly killed was here giving
his son and I a house? It was all confusing and a little too good
to be true. We stayed in one of the quarters adjacent to the main
house where Patrick’s father and the rest of the family lived.
Patrick’s father had given him this house even before we met.
We heaved sighs of relief, feeling like the darkness was lifting
after all. We thanked God for my father-in-law’s benevolence.
He had given my husband a job and a house to live in. What more
would anyone want? We set our sights on building ourselves and
hoped for the best. The very best. However, the more we hoped
and prayed for the best, living one day at a time, the further
away the best apparently eluded us. It appeared like during the
two to three months after our grim wedding, God was allowing
us some breathing space to “honeymoon” as he prepared us for
the more vicious fire we were about to plunge headlong into.
22

HATED FOR LOVING
Another three months passed, at the end of which I was six
months pregnant. One morning Patrick reported to work as
usual, only to find a letter relieving him of his duties as Managing
Director of his father’s company. There was no reason or
explanation whatsoever as to why he was being fired. His father
had signed this unexpected and undesirable letter. No words
can explain the shock that hit my husband’s soul. He was
confused, crushed and in great despair. Patrick returned home
immediately on the verge of tears. While trying to catch his
breath and with his hands trembling, he showed me the letter.
“I have been sacked,” he said. In a flash, in a twinkle of a moment,
my fragile world that I was struggling to piece together came
crushing down before my eyes — again!
I could not believe what my ears were hearing. I could not
perceive it precisely. I was dumbfounded. Patrick and I stood
there, frozen. After our wedding, we were attempting to leave
that unpleasant past behind and start again, only to be hit by this
wave. As I stared at my husband’s termination letter, all the
dreams I had ever possessed in my soul faded. This could not be
happening to me. I wished someone could wake me up from the
bad dream. We were so helpless, at that moment, we literally
became the wretched of the earth. We did not know the source
23

of my father in-law’s despicable decision to disgrace us, but we
were utterly humiliated. We inquired
among Patrick’s family members looking to find answers as to
why he had been sacked from his father’s company and got none
whatsoever. False accusations had been made against him to
tarnish his image, and no one could investigate the matter, and
the real problem was never exposed. They framed him for some
terrible things, but we knew that it was just a pretext, and none
of it was real. We realized that this was going to be a
continuation of our persecution. When the unfair decision to
dismiss my husband was made, we accepted it without
challenging or questioning anyone. We knew that any signs of
disgruntlement from us would only trigger more animosity.
We became increasingly threatened and stigmatized as
everyone looked at us as “bad people”. Worse still, my husband
did not get paid for the work he had done in the two months he
managed his father’s company. He was only facilitated whenever
he travelled on duty. How unfair life had become! It appeared
like everything was conspiring against us, to see us fail.
Dejected, we felt alone in this world. Patrick could not dare drag
his father to court or question him. The ethnic prejudice
between the Hutus and Tutsis was compounded by the fact that
Patrick had done the unthinkable. His father could not forgive
him. He had committed the unpardonable sin and sealed our
fate. Sometimes God may lead you down a specific path or rough
experience, but you will not die because His faithfulness to you
has not ceased. Our problems are meant to bring good out of us,
as Romans 8:28 states; “And we know that in all things God
works for the good of those who love Him.”
I woke up one morning feeling very disenchanted. I felt sad that
something that could have been beautiful had become a burden
too heavy to bear. Life makes sense when it is lived in harmony
with those around us. How were we to achieve the goal to have
a happy and meaningful marriage when all one could see was
malice, strife and hatred because of our different ethnic
24

ackground? What prejudice! There was no happiness in the life
we were trying to build in Rwanda and Patrick and I had to make
a very drastic decision. Having lost favor with his father and
having no source of income, was there anything left for us to live
for? The harder I searched, the more difficult it was for me to
see it. It was time to act, and to act fast.
Patrick and I sat down and had a very serious talk about our
prevailing circumstances. Looking around us, there was nothing
to inspire us to build a future together. Our families did not
approve of our union, most hypocritically said they supported
us, but truthfully did not. There was so much negative energy
emanating from the stares, from jabs thrown here and there,
from muffled whispers when we went to church together or
were out shopping. Frankly, I was disgusted. I felt that life in its
simplicity had been complicated by societal misconceptions, I
felt suffocated. I needed to breathe, and the
earlier I found a solution the better it was going to be for me.
After our very intense dialogue, we agreed to make a move. Our
decision was one — go back to Europe. From that moment, hope
sprung up in me again. I had something to look forward to. I had
tasted both: having been born and raised in Rwanda, and having
spent over five years studying in France, the latter was definitely
a more conducive and unbiased community where we could
build a life together. As a matter of fact, there are no tribal
differences in Europe, so we felt it was the perfect environment
to grow and raise our children into. The decision having been
made, I went to sleep in peace. We had been in Kigali a little over
three months since our return from France. We thought our
documents were still valid because (we thought) our visas were
still up-to-date, and we had booked return tickets. When
Patrick retrieved our travel documents, he was flabbergasted! It
turned out that we had become a little too comfortable and
forgotten to renew our documents just in case things didn’t
work out. Our documents had expired.
25

We were stuck. We were not going anywhere. What a blow! In
the struggle, we could not communicate with our acquaintances
abroad, who would have helped us flee the country. We lost
contact with allies who knew what we were going through and
they thought we had either been jailed or killed. To say that I
was disappointed is an understatement! I cried my eyes out. My
world was giving way and it felt like someone had dug a big hole
right beneath my feet and I was falling in it, deeper and deeper
with every new twist of events. My life was miserable. From that
point onwards, things got from bad to terrible, to unbearable.
We just sat in the house, desperately looking for a solution that
seemed unreachable. With no job, no money, no plan
whatsoever and a baby on the way, I was sick to the stomach. I
surely had not signed up for that. Had I dug a grave for myself
in marrying Patrick? What was going to happen to us?
A few weeks passed and our telephone line in the house was
disconnected. Not long after that, our water and electricity
which we thought were part of the main house connection were
disconnected too. The psychological torture we were subjected
to cannot be aptly explained here. We were emotionally bruised.
Our spirits were crushed to the core. To imagine that Patrick’s
family was more interested in his downfall than in his success
was extremely disturbing. We lived in that house like prisoners.
My father-in-law continued to pull the plug so mercilessly on us
it was unbelievable that a father could do that to his own son, all
because he married from the wrong ethnic group. It felt like he
was ripping our hearts apart.
We tried contacting our friends back in France, but it was all in
vain. It seemed like the entire world had conspired against us.
We wrote emails that went unanswered.
We made calls that were never picked. Every door we tried to
knock at was closed to us. Life was grim. Remember, my fatherin-law
was a rich and powerful man. As a minister in the then
government, there was nothing he did not have. Patrick and I
lived in the same compound with his wealthy family that literally
26

lacked nothing and had surplus of everything, but we stayed
hungry all day and went to bed on empty stomachs. With each
passing day, my hope waned. I was pregnant but starving. I
particularly remember craving milk so much when my
pregnancy was six months old and there was no milk for me
because we didn’t have money to get any.
My father-in-law had many cows, and whenever I heard one
mooing, I cried because I could not control my craving for milk.
How futile human nature is! To deny a pregnant woman a glass
of milk because you want to punish her? That was a rude
awakening I had to learn to live with. Unlike in my father’s home
where I grew up, where everyone was welcome, I had to adjust
my expectations to a very bare minimum. This new reality was
incredibly depressing for me. We literally almost starved to
death in that house. Looking back, it seems to me that those
were the beginnings of the spiritual, emotional and physical
labor pains we were yet to suffer as a nation. The stage was
being set for the gruesome deaths and traumatic experiences
we were about to encounter that would change our lives as
Rwandans forever.
Before the genocide, as my husband, my starving unborn baby
and I were holed up in the boy’s quarter my father-in-law had
kept us in as if intending to bury us alive, my womanly instincts
went into overdrive. I needed to feed, so I occasionally just went
out, with no particular plan, to look for food. In those days, there
were many avocado trees along the road near home. When we
could not bear the hunger, I waited for the sun to go down in
the evenings, veiled my face and walked a considerable distance
along the main road, picking the avocados that fell off the trees.
I would rush home to serve them with water. And that was how
I survived, day and night.
I looked around and realized somewhat painfully that those we
loved and trusted had betrayed and abandoned us. I had been
alienated from my friends and family because of the political
strain in the country at the time. The fact that I had done the
27

abominable thing and married from the “other camp” made it all
the more challenging for me. As the months wore on, the
security situation in Rwanda was getting from bad to horrible.
There was so much animosity among neighbors, workmates,
friends, brothers and sisters, so much so that everybody became
an enemy. Enemies (real and imagined) were people accused of
hiding spies and conspiring with anti-government elements to
depose the then government. Since everyone viewed everyone
with suspicion, people generally resorted to keeping away from
each other. We, therefore,
did not have any of our friends and relatives visiting, neither
could we dare visit any of them. My due date had drawn so close,
and there were so many things to worry about, including
hospital bills and what to feed the baby on when it came. Life
could not get bleaker than that. As I was wondering what to do
next, I got an unlikely visitor at my house. Remember, visitors
during that time were “ominous”. One would not tell what news
they brought. My visitor that day turned out to be a nurse. I did
not know this woman. She was a complete stranger to us, but as
it is known to be in my African culture, a visitor is a visitor — you
do not chase them away.
We gladly received her in our humble and deprived home. She
was accompanied by someone who knew us and what we were
going through. She said to me, “You are still young, and I don’t
know how far you are going in your life; but whatever I am going
to tell you should be you and your husband’s secret for as long
as you live.” For a moment I wondered where she was heading
with this. I had already had my fair share of hardships and
misfortunes, or so I thought. I had already seen how far
someone would go in being heartless. I shared a compound with
a very wealthy cattle owner, who found his satisfaction in
whetting a pregnant woman’s craving for milk that he was not
going to give her. What more could she possibly reveal that
would take me by surprise? My husband and I listened as she
continued.
28

“I am in charge of the maternity wing at Kigali Hospital. We have
specific instructions to make sure you and your baby die during
delivery. I for one do not wish to see your dead body or that of
your child. Please do whatever you can to avoid falling in this
trap. Whether you have your child here in Kigali or somewhere
else, the choice is yours to make. I am here to let you know that
if you opt to deliver at Kigali Hospital, both you and your baby
will die.” After all these years of living with Patrick, I have come
to one conclusion; my father-in-law never believed I genuinely
loved his son. I tend to think that due to his militaristic and
political office, he probably thought I could have been a spy
planted to disrupt his kingdom. He could never have a peaceful
night’s rest with me in his family. Desperate times call for
desperate measures, they say; but I had never in my wildest
dreams thought a father, out of desperation, would kill his own
flesh and blood. As the nurse sat there giving us this unwelcome
news, I became numb. The thought of it shocked me then and I
still shudder at how malevolent we humans can get. How much
are you willing to pay to satisfy an evil desire? There is nothing
good in desiring to terminate a life. That is an evil intention.
You can imagine the fear that gripped me after the nurse left.
Where could we possibly hide? Not only did they want to
annihilate us, but they wanted to wipe out our seed as well. I was
gripped with anxiety and horror. The thought that my life and
that of
my children were in danger tormented me. Nothing could sooth
me. It was like the old man was obsessed with the idea of
hunting me down, it consumed him and took away his reasoning
capacity. Your own son’s wife? Why would you want her dead?
Was there ever going to be an end to the torment? Just when I
thought I had seen it all, I was still reminded that I was the prime
target for the worst cruelty anyone could imagine. I had to make
a decision. First, I had to move.
I went to Gitarama, near my parents’ home and hid there until
the day I delivered my baby. No one knew where I was. In 1993,
29

surrounded by my family and my husband at the hospital, I
welcomed my first child; a daughter who I named Justine. The
Lord had been exceedingly gracious to me. Just holding that
precious life in my hands brought a surge of emotions that
almost overwhelmed me. From the time I met Patrick, I had lived
my life on tenterhooks. My father-in-law had hunted me down
and was looking for my children. We were broke, as deprived as
anyone could get. We did not know where the next meal would
come from. For a pregnant woman not to be sure of her next
meal is unthinkable. However, in all those trials, God did grant
me a pregnancy free of complications and crowned it with a
natural birth. I was elated, to say the least. It was more than I
could be grateful for. I did have something to be thankful for
after all.
30

THE GOING GETS TOUGH
God had been merciful and helped me to bring a life into this
world. I was happy to have become a mother and looking at my
little one breathes in my arms filled me with some of the
happiest memories of my life. However, the happy moments
were always short-lived because the reality of our financial lack
came back to bite, and to bite real hard. First of all, I had no job
and neither did Patrick. When our baby arrived, we were
absolutely not ready for her in terms of meeting her physical
needs. Can you imagine a situation where a baby comes and
there are no nappies (we used nappies in the 1990s), or
bedsheets and blankets to keep her warm? It was such a
stressful time. The few clothes I had carried had been bought by
my sister Helena.
When we were discharged, we could not raise money to clear
the hospital bill which amounted to 8,500 Rwandan Francs at
that time. The hospital management could not discharge us until
we had cleared the bill, as per the rules of procedure. However,
we did not have a coin to our name. My family carried food all
the way from home until Helena came to my rescue again. She
paid the hospital bill and I was discharged. We returned to the
31

place we called home, with no running water, electricity or
telephone, I was disillusioned. I remember entering into this
cold and depressing place we called our living room and
wondered whether this was really what life was about. Why was
the sky grey and the sun not shining on us? Why was the
darkness not giving way? Would I ever dance again? Would I
ever smile again? Would I ever dream of a happy life like I did
when I was a little girl? Hard as it was, life had to go on. It had
been a little bearable when it was just the two of us. Now there
was my little Justine to fend for. There is no pain like that of a
mother who cannot meet the basic needs of her child. In those
days, local dairies in Kigali stocked a type of milk called
Nyabisindu which was very nutritious for infants. Whenever he
got a good Samaritan handing him a few coins, Patrick would
rush to the dairy for Justine’s Nyabisindu.
One morning, my husband was walking back home carrying a
black polythene with a liter of Nyabisindu milk. Suddenly, a car
pulled over next to him and freaked him out. Was he being
followed too? Did they want to kill him like they had wanted to
kill me? He looked again and recognized the car to be his
father’s. As he stopped, his father rolled down the window and
sneered at his son saying, “Until your trousers fall off your body,
that is when you will know that you have disrespected me,” he
said speeding off, leaving Patrick in a cloud of dust. When I
remember those days, I cry. I cry because there was no
substantial reason why we were being hated and cursed. Can
you imagine your father cursing you? All of us would love a
blessing from our fathers, not a curse. However, for Patrick and
I, curses, ridicule and insults is all we got from the people we
loved the most, which shattered our hearts. One’s family is
supposed to be the source of their security and love – but not
ours. They had rejected us and undressed us and hurled us into
the cold, at the mercies of the elements. Who would rescue us?
As if the ugly face of life we had so far seen was not cruel enough,
I returned from the market one day to find my eight-monthsold
Justine in the cot letting out a sharp cry. She was desperately
32

gasping for breath. As I hurried towards the cot, my heart
throbbed in fear. Justine was all I had in this world. I had no
silver, no gold and no possessions whatsoever. My family had
abandoned me, and my in-laws wanted me dead. If anything
happened to Justine, I would probably just die. On reaching the
cot, what I found shook me to my very core and I let out a panicstricken,
frenzied scream like someone was ripping my
intestines apart. There lay my sweet little Justine, bleeding from
the eyes and the nose. I could not believe what was happening
to me. I was completely distraught. It was not a sight for any
mother to see, let alone a first timer.
I called the nanny, wanting a full explanation of what was
happening to my baby, but all I got were shocked murmurs and
a vehement denial of not knowing what had happened. Patrick
and I were desperately looking for a solution. He rushed to
his parents’ house to ask his father for a car so that we could
take Justine to hospital. There were about five cars parked in the
compound. Even his driver had a car to himself that he used
anytime he wanted, and the servants in the homestead were
driven in cars to run errands. However, when his own son
reached out for help, his father shut the door in his face. There
was going to be a car for the driver, the footman and the maid,
but there was not going to be a car for Patrick to take his dying
daughter to hospital. The pain of this rejection pierced deep in
our hearts.
We had to find a solution, and fast! Patrick decided to go on foot
to get some help. As he was getting out of the gate, his father’s
driver was just parking his car, having reported for duty – to pick
up my father-in-law. When he saw what was happening, he
immediately followed Patrick and said, “Here are my car keys,
you can use my car.” He also gave Patrick some money to cater
for any hospital expenses. The driver was moved with
compassion to help us. I will forever be grateful to him for the
kindness he showed us. Indeed, angels still exist even amidst the
darkness. My husband thanked him and took the keys and
33

eturned to pick Justine and I before driving us to hospital. What
intrigued me was that when we got to the hospital, the doctors
did not find anything wrong with Justine. They prescribed some
basic medication and discharged us. What in the world was
happening to us? Was there a dark hand bent on seeing us fail?
One may wonder why we did not have a plan to get out of our
undesirable situation. We, however, were in a spot so tight, it
felt like the sky had literally fallen on us. We went to bed not
knowing if we would see the light the following day and got up
each morning unsure of whether the sun would set. Remember,
we were not allowed to see anyone, and neither was anyone
allowed to visit us. I remember one time in February 1994, we
were literally dying of hunger. I decided to act because sitting
back was not helping anyway. I would rather have died trying to
do something than going down without a fight. I went to see
someone I thought was a friend. I went to see this former wife
of an ambassador, particularly because she was in a marriage
just like mine.
Claudia was a Tutsi and her husband a Hutu. Since she had
managed to stay married in the face of all the hatred and
animosity, I thought she would appreciate my situation and so
reach out with a shoulder to lean on. I somehow felt that in her
I would find a confidant, a sympathizer; someone who would
relate with what I was going through. Not to mention, she was
the wife of a long-time ambassador who had served in many
countries. They were well-off, so I definitely expected financial
help from her without a problem. I thought I had approached
just the right person. I was wrong. As soon as I took a seat, I
could not hold back my tears, because both my baby and I were
very
Hungry. “I am here because I need your help”, I told her. “I need
some money. The baby is hungry, and we are hungry too,” I
implored. “How much?” she asked. “Thirty Thousand,” I
answered. My plan was to use the money to buy Justine’s food
first, then our food which would be just enough to take us by, as
34

we thought of a long-term plan. She looked at me for a while,
and then mockingly asked, “Where will you ever find that
amount of money to pay me back?” “I don’t know, but with the
help of God, I will get it and pay you back,” I said.
My answer was very precise. I had no time to phrase the
sentence with the right words. I needed help and she either gave
it to me or she did not. Then came her answer; “Go home and
return after two days. I will have figured out what I can do for
you.” We lived two kilometers apart. When I left her house, I
cried all the way home. The pain was too much. I thought to
myself, “All I need right now is some milk in my breasts for
Justine to feed. If only I could have some milk in the breast!” I
did not give up. When I got home, I decided to go to my fatherin
law and ask for just two cups of hot milk. He had cattle and
milk was plenty. There was never a time when that household
lacked milk. He supplied not less than 100 liters to many hotels
in Kigali every day. One would walk into the dining area any time
of the day and would be sure to find the table set with flasks of
tea, with no one to take it because everyone had enough. He had
refused to give me just one cup when I was expecting, and now
I was going to try again. When I got there, he chased me away.
He instructed all his workers not to give me any milk. I was
starving and there was no end in sight for this suffering.
Two days later, I went back to Claudia, fingers crossed. She was
my last hope, or else I did not know where else I would go for
help. When I got there, I was made to sit for some time while
waiting for her. As I sat there, I said all kinds of prayers in my
heart. Have you ever been in a place where you are at someone’s
mercy? That is where I was, totally helpless. Her footsteps
jerked me to reality. “Here you go,” she said as she handed me
10,000 Rwandan francs (about $12), “That is for free, because you
will never get that money anywhere to pay me back,” she
sneered. I thanked Claudia repeatedly and looked up and
thanked God for the miracle he had just performed.
Nonetheless, the manner in which this help came crushed my
spirit. It made me feel like a pauper with no hope. I knew we
35

were poor and hopeless and for one human being to treat
another like that made me hate my life even more. I only took
that money because I was going through a hard time with
Justine. On my way back home, I bought silver fish, which would
stay long. Little did I know that that decision would
save our lives in the most critical season that lay ahead. Do you
remember that story in the gospel of Matthew 26:6-13? A story
is told of a woman (Mary) who anointed Jesus’ feet a few days
before the Passover and when she was criticized for it, Jesus
rebuked those who condemned her act. “But Jesus, aware of this
said to them, ‘Why do you bother the woman? For she has done
a good deed to Me. For the poor, you have with you always. But
you do not always have Me.’ For when she poured this perfume
upon My body, she did it to prepare Me for burial.” It seems like
Claudia was preparing us for the tough times that lay ahead
because from that moment on-wards, it started raining bombs,
bullets and grenades in Rwanda.
36

THE STENCH OF DEATH
By 1990, I was having visions of war, of people killing each other,
some fleeing on foot with loads on their heads and others
flocking the airport, ready to fly out of the country. I shared
what I saw, but people didn’t believe me because they said there
was peace in Rwanda. However, something dreadful was about
to happen and it did. One night, shortly after I left Claudia’s
magnificent home to return to my dungeon that had no food,
running water or electricity, an announcement broke out on
Radio Television Libre des 100 Collines (RTLM) saying my
husband and I had spies in our home. This put pressure on us
and we decided to move again, but to where? Where in Kigali
would we hide without being hunted down? People often
followed us and besieged our house every night. We decided to
get up one morning and leave, taking our child with us and
leaving all our property behind. We even left the lanterns on. We
simply locked the house and left.
How in the world could I, Jeanne D’Arc, harbor enemies of an
entire country? I was stunned and completely traumatized! I, a
woman who was starving to death and lacked breast milk to feed
my baby, was being accused of harboring enemies for an entire
government? I could not believe what was happening. It was
incredibly ridiculous. If I was capable of such a feat, would I have
37

starved and stayed in those oppressive and inhuman
circumstances? Couldn’t these people see that I was helpless
and innocent?
No, they could not. Instead, they chose to spread false and
hateful propaganda about me. I don’t know who spread that
incriminating information, but it was disturbing, and one thing
was inevitable; we had to flee. If my name could be listed among
Rwanda’s most wanted criminals how safe was I? I knew it would
be a matter of days and my life would be snuffed out. Since we
did not have much property, we simply carried our Justine and
left. I had conceived again and constantly apprehensive about
the fate of my young family. The situation we were in was not
what I dreamed of when I was courting my husband, but that is
what life had handed me. My husband’s rich, secure and wellconnected
family stayed, but we fled, though not really sure of
our destination. We decided to rent out the house my father-inlaw
had given us, and we moved out of his compound. This was
in April 1994. We got a smaller house, far away from him and
hoped that the money from the rented house would help clear
our basic needs, especially food for Justine and our wellbeing.
Walking out of that compound felt like walking out of a safe
house. I felt free, I wanted to scream for joy. I did not know what
tomorrow held, but at least, I took a break from being reminded
daily that I was not wanted. I was hopeful that something
positive would spring up in our lives. After all, what is faith? Faith
is believing in the manifestation of what you do not see, calling
those things that are not as though they were (Hebrews 11:1). I
had no money or property, but I had faith that for as long as
Patrick and I were alive, we would be fine. However, what we
had hoped for did not happen. We had not even properly
unpacked when our worlds were thrown completely upside
down.
We had only stayed in that new place for a few days when the
genocide broke out. Justine was only 10 months old. On that
night, I was alone in the house with my child. Fear struck me
38

when I heard several gunshots. My husband had travelled with
my brother, and they had not returned. I had no news of what
was going on. Apparently, my husband and my brother had been
held up on the way after the plane that was carrying the then
Rwandan President, Juvenal Habyarimana and his Burundian
counterpart, Cyprien Ntaryamira, was shot down above Kigali
airport on that fateful night of April 6, 1994. Many people were
being arrested. My husband did not return, and I braced myself
for the worst news. I concluded that he had been killed and I
was sure I would be killed in the house alone soon after. I got so
angry that for a moment I decided to go to my native place in
the countryside with the hope of returning to Kigali after
security had been restored. However, there was nowhere safe
for me to pass because the state declared a curfew.
When my husband and brother returned, they had been beaten
up. It was like I was watching a horror movie. There was a feeling
of death walking on two feet, standing there in our living room.
There were gunshots throughout the night. With the smell of
death wafting in the air, we fled Kigali. I strapped the baby on
my back and we started walking to wherever our feet could
carry us. As soon as we took a few steps from our house, we
bumped into our neighbors a few meters away. “Look at you!
Where are you going?” they exclaimed. Everyone looked at me
suspiciously as though I was their worst enemy. My husband
advised that instead of going with these people, we should stay
home and wait for death. We went back home and locked
ourselves in the house. I will always remember that it was the
saddest Easter season I have ever experienced in this life. We
literally sat up all night. The next day I got a miscarriage.
There was a sea of blood everywhere. My heart was constantly
in my mouth, the terror that was unfolding before our eyes was
indescribable. I thought I was going to lose my mind. As wailing,
mourning people fleeing with whatever little possession they
could salvage filled the streets and many more watched in
horror as their relatives lay dead on the highways, all the faith I
had of ever staying alive evaporated! I wanted to die. That was
39

the moment when being dead definitely felt better than staying
alive. It was horrendous! I felt extremely sick and weak as a
result of the miscarriage. Worse still, I had not received any
treatment because we were broke and the war had broken out.
However, despite my delicate and life-threatening health
condition, we had to join everyone else to flee for our lives
without really knowing where we were going. We just fled like
everyone else was doing, to wherever the wind thrust us.
It was better to die trying to escape than to wait for machetewielding
men to hack us to death. Although we left all our
belongings in the house, the state operatives continued to track
us down without succeeding at tracing our whereabouts. That
is how my husband and I survived the genocide. Most people
lost their lives at the hands of their enemies. Some people were
told to pay money in order to be spared but because they did
not have it, they ended up being killed. Others were killed even
after paying the money!
While we were on the move, Justine caught a fever. I wanted to
die. That was the last thing a mother would wish for under the
circumstance. We were trapped in a web of tragedy all around.
Justine’s temperature shot up so high in just a matter of minutes
that Patrick had to repeatedly pour cold water all over her. After
that, I strapped her on my back and Patrick carried a bag of
clothes. Bullets were whizzing over our heads as we jumped
over dead bodies to seek refuge at a place we did not even know.
Since there were military men and gunshots everywhere, we
decided to go to King Faisal Hospital where many other people
had found sanctuary. When we got there,
we bumped into one of my aunts named Charlotte who had also
sought refuge with her family. I was relieved when I saw them
and knew I could get help in case we all survived. I had got in
first with Justine on my back. While crying, I fell into her open
arms and we hugged. Even in an atmosphere of bereavement
and anarchy, it was truly reassuring to see my relatives. I
sobbed. The emotions lasted only a few minutes until Patrick
40

walked in. The moment my relatives and the other Tutsis in the
hospital saw him, all hell broke loose. As excited as my aunt and
other relatives had been when they beheld me, all their
countenances changed from affection to outrage. Almost
immediately, they threw us out and locked the door behind us.
I was thunderstruck, to say the least! This surely was not
happening.
I rubbed my eyes repeatedly hoping it was not just a bad dream.
Unfortunately, it was a reality. All this was happening in real
time. We had been rejected among my in-laws because I am
Tutsi and now, we were being rejected and forcefully ejected
from a place of refuge by my people because he is a Hutu. What
in the world was going on? Even when the stench of death had
engulfed us, people were still hating each other on the basis of
tribal differences? What was Tutsi? What was Hutu? Both ethnic
groups were being wiped out as the genocide broke out and all
that people could do to deal with it was to keep hating each
other? I was numb. It would have been understandable if it had
been just Patrick and I alone, but we had a baby. Justine’s health
was deteriorating with temperatures shooting through the roof.
If there was a time she ever needed any tender loving care, then
that was the night. I expected my people to have some sense of
humanity by putting all our differences aside since, regardless
of whatever difference, we were all now struggling to stay alive.
At some point I knocked and begged my aunt to open and at
least take Justine in with her and cover her with some blankets,
but even that fell on deaf ears. She could have none of it. My
husband, daughter and I spent that night in the biting cold at
the verandah of King Faisal Hospital. I watched in pain as
children died of pneumonia. I couldn’t sleep, because I had to
hold Justin firmly on my chest to keep her warm
The genocide lasted three horrific months – from April to July
1994. It was three months living in hell. While I, Patrick, Justine
and a host of other fugitives were holed up at King Faisal
Hospital, the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) army in Rwanda
evacuated us to a refugee camp in Byumba, near the border with
41

Uganda because the social system in Rwanda had broken down.
There were no homes to return to, no jobs and no businesses.
The country needed psychological and social economic support
to get on its feet There were so many broken and traumatized
people, most people lost their minds. They would hear of how
their loved ones had been murdered and they would run the
streets naked, having run mad. It was extremely heart-rending.
When we fled, I had left our home with my expensive jewelry
from France. I sold off a set whenever we ran out of money for
food. That is how we survived the genocide against the Tutsi.
One day some United Nations Mission officials came from Kigali
to visit the camp. One of my sisters-in-law worked there and
she had sent them to my address. Among them was a man who
was a friend to my sister-in-law who happened to know my
husband. I had never seen angels in my life until that time. I do
not think an angel only has to look like Gabriel in the bible; with
lights, wings and all. Sometimes God sends angels in human
form. That day, my dying faith in God and in humanity was
revived.
They brought us a sack of rice and a sack of sugar and for once
we were the advantaged ones. I was elated and relieved. No one
had access to sugar in such perilous times. Things like sugar and
rice were a luxury, everyone was busy running for their dear
lives. Some died instantly from either gunshot wounds or after
being hacked in the process; many others died of pneumonia
and hunger. Amidst that death and darkness was God smiling on
us? He gave us something to hope for amidst the sorrow, pain
and death that stalked us. We were still alive, and He sent angels
to give us food. Every morning, I sat outside the room where we
lived trading a cup of rice for any other food or items we needed.
Meanwhile, since we had more than enough sugar, Patrick
decided to make and sell black tea to the starving people. Some
did not have money, so they gave us the items they had in
exchange for items we needed but did not have. Life is very
strange. I do not want to imagine what Patrick could have felt
like. The son of a high-ranking government official, who had
42

spent most of his early life abroad, was now making a fire with
wood and making tea for sale? It all seemed unbearable.
However, through it all, I was amazed at God’s hand of provision
amidst our darkest moment. I am thankful to God for sending
those angels. First it was Claudia and then my sister-in-law’s
friend. With that rice, sugar and my jewelry, we survived that
dark moment.
At the refugee camp, everyone was trying to make the best of
the situation, hurting people trying to comfort more hurting
people. While trying to settle in, I met my Aunt Charlotte, my
mother and my sister Helena. They had been evacuated to the
camp with many other Rwandans. It was from them that I heard
of the painful end of my dear father, my grandmother, my nieces
and many other very close family members. They told me that a
total of one hundred family members had been murdered. I lost
my father, brother, my maternal and paternal grandmothers,
nephews, nieces, cousins, uncles, unties, etc. My mother
recounted how it had happened. Since the genocide happened
during the Easter holiday of 1994, some of my nieces and
nephews had gone to spend the holiday break from school with
their grandparents.
On the night the genocide broke out, my mother had left my
father with my sisters’ children and several other grandchildren
in the house, having gone to visit her own mother, my
grandmother, in the neighboring village. While she was away,
armed Hutu soldiers stormed my father’s compound and left
everybody dead. They would rape the women and mercilessly
murder them. They would just go to a compound and slaughter
whoever they found alive. On her way to my grandmother’s, my
mother had passed by my sister Helena’s home when the
shooting started and that was how they ended up at the refugee
camp. Many of people who could not make it to the camp did
not survive. Although to the outside world it was 100 days of
killings, to Rwandans it was an eternity of hell. Our families went
through untold horrors that cannot even be adequately
described within these pages. For instance, I lost more than 100
43

elatives. Many of these people were very close to me and
suffered great atrocities before they died.
My father was with his two grandchildren when they hit him
with a piece of hard wood on the head. By the time of the
genocide, he had retired and set up his own clinic in Gitarama.
He, like all the victims, met his end gruesomely. He was hiding
with his grandchildren in the house. They were dragged out and
he was killed before my nieces and nephews. Then the killers
threw his dead body and my nieces and nephews (who were still
alive) in a pit which was used as a dumpster behind the house.
Since my mother, sister and a few other relatives had made it
safely to the refugee camp, we did not get to see what happened.
We only lived to be told and now tell the tale. The report we got
was that my nieces and nephews were still alive when they were
thrown in the pit. No one should be subjected to what we were
put through. It can rip one’s heart out. In fact, when my sister
heard about what had happened to her children, she lost her
mind. For a long time, she was mentally unstable and had to seek
mental and psychiatric treatment. Her world was ripped apart.
My grandmother was thrown in a freshly dug pit that was meant
to be a pit latrine. She was not killed like the others because she
was too weak to run for her life. When they threw her in the pit,
alive, they threw other dead bodies on top of her, and that is
how she died. When we heard these things, the pain we felt was
heart rending. We later exhumed her body and found her in the
same sitting position she was in when she fell in the pit. My
young brother was severely tortured before he was killed, but
we have never been able to find his body. My maternal
grandmother was very old. While the other people she stayed
with were running for their lives, she could not run. Just as she
got to the gate, she realized that she was not going to make it.
She then turned and told her grandchildren, “Go on ahead, run
for your lives because if you stay here they will kill you. Do not
worry about me.” She then sat at the gate and that
44

was where they found her. They cut her legs off and left her to
bleed to death. Her corpse was eaten by the dogs and, on our
return, we only found her bones. Those are the close relatives
who died terrible deaths. I lost very many other cousins whose
deaths I cannot even recount. Books have been written about
the Rwanda genocide and movies have been made out of it.
However, no one will ever really know how deeply real people,
with real feelings were affected by it. Unless you went through
it, you can never truly appreciate how terrorized, defiled and
violated we feel. To date, post-genocide Rwandans have severe
post-traumatic stress disorders. You can imagine, therefore,
how I almost went crazy when the anger and bitterness of those
we fled with could not accept me. I paid the price of being
married to a Hutu. None of my Tutsi relatives could even
mention my name. They referred to me as ‘the wife of the
murderer.’ It was not easy.
Some of my brothers and sisters sadistically drove me out the
house we were all staying in. I told them I would go, but I would
not leave my child. I asked them to imagine how difficult it was
for me. How my in-laws reject my Justine only for them to not
accept her either? They were forcing me to separate from my
husband, but I had to let them know that he was not responsible
for what had happened. I had to stand in the gap and be strong.
However, it was a very challenging gap to stand in. Before the
genocide, I had to deal with Patrick’s family, and after the
genocide I had to deal with mine, who felt Patrick’s ethnic group
had led us to where we were. It was not easy, but by God’s grace
I got through it. I feel better already now that I have recounted
it in my book. It is good to talk about the trauma because it
releases the victim. There are many people who are not talking
about their experiences, and when they pile up, they are
destructive. This is why I want many people to be released
through my story. I believe whoever will read it will be touched.
45

THE AFTERMATH
I was formerly a Catholic. However, even before I got born again,
I used to get dreams and visions. I had dreamt about the
genocide while still in France. However, whenever I shared the
dream with friends and family, none of them believed me. They
all said I was traumatized. When it finally happened, it was just
like I had seen in the dream. Back in Kigali, the aftermath of the
dreadful mass murders began to manifest. No one could trace
their homes or properties. Most had been razed down or looted.
No one could claim ownership of any property. Everyone who
returned from the various camps around the country just found
deserted homes and occupied them. Our own house had been
occupied by someone else, so we also just had to find a house
and occupy it. A large number of Hutus had fled the country
because of the war and many Tutsis had died, so it was their
houses we were occupying. Tutsis all over the country thronged
Kigali in jubilation, occupying empty residences, taking out their
dead bodies, cleaning the houses of any blood stains and living
in them. My family and I; which included my mother, Helena,
Patrick and my daughter Justine, moved into one of the empty
houses.
When we reunited after the genocide, the wounds and the
sadness were intense. Picking up the broken pieces was very
difficult. Can you imagine moving around seeing people who
killed your loved ones and you are expected to love them? We
46

did not know how we would go through that. Having gone
through rejection with Patrick’s family, I expected my family to
be supportive. However, I was in for a rude awakening. I began
to notice people react strangely before Patrick. Many avoided
him like a plague. My family and all other survivors around us
isolated Patrick. If people were having a conversation, and he
walked in they would keep quiet. Slowly they showed him that
he was not welcome. People started murmuring, asking what a
Hutu was doing among them. “After what the Hutus had done to
us, and you bring him here,”? they asked.
We suffered rejection afresh. Everyone would be talking happily
in our absence, but the moment we attempted to join in the
conversation, they all went silent, till we would go away again. I
knew it was time to move again. There was a two-roomed boys
quarter at one of my father-in-law’s houses. He had fled to his
birthplace where he was taking refuge. The house had been
completely looted of everything, but it was still habitable. We
cleaned it and stayed there. The only thing it did not have were
doors, and we had to use a stone and an old box to close it. I
hoped and prayed that this would be our last movement. I hoped
we would finally settle down. Our home was worse than a make
shift shack. It reeked of bloodshed and death everywhere.
However, that is all we had, and we had to work with it. I only
had one saucepan and two cups. That one pan boiled tea and
after breakfast I had to scrub it, so I could boil beans in it. My
husband and I were labelled ‘the killers’. When we shifted, I did
not tell anyone about it. However, no one was bothered about
our departure, and neither did they try to find out where we had
gone. It was the hardest life I had to live, but I somehow, one day
at a time, lived through it.
In December 1994, over five months after the genocide, in that
small house without doors and windows, God revealed Himself
to me. My sister Helena called me and told me that she had been
asked if she knew any genocide survivors she could recommend
for a job. She gave me the name and contact of the person I was
to see, and where I was to meet them. It was a UN job, for which
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I neither had the papers no the experience. Up until that time, I
believed in a higher power. I was neither a born again Christian
nor a spiritual person, but I believed there was a higher power
working behind the scenes to help me. The fact that our
troubled marriage had survived the hatred was the first miracle.
The way God kept Justine, Patrick and I at King Faisal Hospital
out in the cold was a miracle. Claudia grudgingly offering me the
10,000 francs was more than a miracle. And now, here was the
benevolent God again working behind the scenes to help me.
Nowhere in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine myself
working in the United Nations. It was a miracle. In one day, I
came from having one pan and two cups to earning a salary in
dollars. My first salary was $350. I did not know what to do with
my first salary because I literally had nothing. But as it were, my
happiness
was always short-lived. It always felt like I had been born for
misfortune. Even with this wonderful job, I was sad because my
husband had been jobless pretty much since he had left
university in France. First, this made him sad and depressed.
Secondly, it meant that I was the sole financial provider for my
family. When I was three or so months old into my new job at
the UN, Patrick was arrested and imprisoned. He was suspected
to have colluded with a friend who was now in prison, after
being found in possession of the car the said friend had lent him.
The season of Patrick’s imprisonment was another tough turn in
my life. The loneliness was excruciating. I was at home alone
with my daughter. Neighbors and passers-by only pointed
fingers at me, no one ever visited me. Even at my place of work
where there were people from many nationalities, no one liked
me. The UN had a bus that would rotate picking up employees
and dropping us at office. Not even on the UN bus did anyone
ever strike a conversation with me. I was always lonely. My
bosses were French, and it is only with them that I worked
harmoniously; none among the locals ever paid me any
attention. I had to painfully endure a life of stigma and
loneliness. Soon after that my father-in-law returned to his
48

home from up-country only to find his son in prison. He came
to me and said, “Your brothers and sisters came and took over
everything including houses. You cannot stay in my house when
my son is in prison. Get out!”
I went to see my husband and asked him whether I could leave
the house or resist. He advised that I should stay, because
leaving would only make me look guilty of all their accusations.
They would say I deserted my family, and I connived with the
Tutsi authorities to have Patrick imprisoned. So, I stayed and
endured all their mockery and scorn. The house had one
bedroom, a sitting room, kitchen and bathroom. I was
dumbfounded when I got a letter from my father-in-law stating
that I was now his tenant, and I had to pay him rent for the
house. That would not have been so much of a surprise because
I knew I was not his favorite person. However, he took his dislike
of me a notch higher when he served me another letter,
demanding rent for each room in the house separately. That
meant I would have to pay rent for the living room alone, the
bedroom alone, the kitchen, bathroom and corridor.
I went back to Patrick and showed him the letter. My opinion
was that I would much rather rent a much bigger house with the
same amount of money instead of spending it on a small place,
with so much oppression. It goes without saying that it was not
the rent that my father-in-law wanted. He wanted me out of his
house. When I visited Patrick in prison and told him that, he said,
“No. Do not give my father money and do not leave the house.
Let him chase you in broad daylight when everyone is watching.
Then you can leave.” This incident confirmed several things to
me, that my father-in-law would never really come to terms
with the fact that his son married a Tutsi and secondly, it would
take divine intervention for him to accept me. Once my fatherin-law
realized I was not budging, he put the house up for sale
and I had no option, but to leave. At this point, I reflected upon
my life and came to the conclusion that this pushing and shoving
between Patrick’s family and I had gone on too long. It was time
49

to take charge of my life and move on. I felt like I could not live
the rest of my life miserable and sorrowful. I had the power to
walk out of this oppressing situation. I mean, I now had a job, I
could pay rent. I was not at my father-in-law’s mercy. Part of
the reason I stayed there was out of respect for Patrick. He had
not wanted us to move, so I stayed. However, when my fatherin-law
sold the house, I knew my freedom had come. No one
loves to stay in a place they are not wanted.
After going back and forth with my husband’s trial, engaging
lawyers and still failing to secure his release, I surrendered the
case to God. From that time onwards, I made a decision to use
all my free time for prayer. Patrick was in jail for one year and
was released just before we moved from my father-in-law’s
house. The day Patrick was released was the happiest day of my
life. Even though we were poor and unwanted, at least we were
together. He was my only source of comfort, the love and
security of my life. I did not have anyone else in this world apart
from him because no one wants to befriend a woman whose
name has been slandered on national radio that she is a rebel. I
had neither friends nor family. I only had enemies. When Patrick
was in prison, I was like a moving corpse. People saw me go
about my work and daily business as if all was well, but I was
dead within, only regaining some life and hope when he was
released.
I conceived again shortly after Patrick’s return, and this
prompted him to ask his father to let us stay since we had a baby
coming. I will never forget the response. My father in-law
literally cursed us to go and “breed like dogs”. That was the last
time I ever heard Patrick ask his father for help. With that curse,
we left Patrick’s people. Some things are too difficult to process.
Some wounds are too deep to heal. For Patrick, the pain of
rejection because of the woman he had chosen to marry was
far-reaching. As a man, I know he did not overly express it, but
I am sure it hurt him and his identity. Meanwhile, my own people
never wanted anything to do with me either. Even long after the
genocide ended, I was never comfortable among them.
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Whenever we had the “one hundred days” memorial to
commemorate the genocide or when we had to give our loved
ones’ remains, which had been discovered at an open grave
somewhere, a decent burial, I could not join in because they
always pointed fingers at me and said I was shedding crocodile
tears. My family excluded me in their plans and felt I had no
right to be hurt at the loss of my loved ones because, they felt,
since my husband’s Hutu ethnic group had led the massacres, I
was part of the Hutus, so I had no business mourning the
annihilation of the Tutsi. It was unbearable, because I had to
bear the pain of losing my loved ones, and still be held
responsible for it. We had to leave. We used the money I had
been saving from my job and rented another house. God was so
gracious to me that I went on to work with the United Nations
for 18 years. God later told me that I would only leave the UN at
my own will, when I got tired. It was by the grace of God that I
got that job. God showed me that He does not do good things to
us because we deserve it. Sin defines us until Jesus Christ comes
and takes it away. However, even in our fallen state, God loves
us so much that He cannot let the storm consume us. My
testimony is this, it is not really so much that I love God, but that
God first loved me and gave Himself for me. I am grateful for His
redemptive love. Life in Rwanda after the genocide was
distressing. The nation was completely grief-stricken. Surviving
family members painfully collected the remains of their loved
ones to give them a decent burial. Those were days of untold
emotional and psychological pain. People would cry on end,
struggling to put this painful past behind them.
To imagine that my life has always been one of wars is baffling.
I was at war way before the genocide started. Five years before
the genocide, I was a wanted person. Then I had to endure the
genocide itself and, as if that was not enough, there was my
family to deal with after all that. Meanwhile, as all that was
happening, the issues with Patrick’s imprisonment never
seemed to go away. There was a plot to kill him and make all
traces disappear. One policeman, who was not part of the plot,
51

knew about it and warned Patrick. He told him he would receive
a call to meet with my sister somewhere, and that is where some
policemen would finish him off.
The policeman told Patrick not to dare go alone. When it
happened as the policeman had warned, Patrick was wise
enough not to go. He waited for the policeman who had warned
him, and when he arrived after work, they went together to the
police station. He then urged the other policemen at the station
to finish with Patrick quickly, as he had to go somewhere else
with him. That is when they realized that they could not go on
with their plot, and that is how Patrick’s life was saved. Having
left my fathering-law's spiteful treatment, I fell from the frying
pan right into the fire of my own people’s rejection. It was more
or less the cruelest treatment I have ever received on this earth.
I would understand Patrick’s family hating me because, well, I
was from a different ethnic group, a group they abhorred like it
was an abomination to get along with them. Secondly, I was not
of their flesh and blood. However, for my own family to take the
same route was agonizing. I faced so much rejection that I kept
away from most family events. I was shut out, only attending my
father’s re-burial ceremony.
Since I was not wanted, segregated against and distrusted by
everyone, I resorted to only one thing – silence. I had only one
person to confide in, and that was God. I did not know that by
victimizing myself, I was hurting myself more. I thought I was
the only one suffering these injustices. I did not know that this
was only turning me into a selfish person. With each passing
day, my heart became as sensitive as a fresh wound and as hard
as a stone.
What the Bible says about humans is indeed true. If a mother
can forget the baby nursing at her breast, and if a father can
reject his own son, we understand why Jeremiah 17:5-6 states
that, “Cursed is anyone who puts their trust in man…”. In this
verse, God shows us that we are all made of the same material;
therefore, if there should be any trust, it should be directed to a
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higher and more deserving power. Having been made in God’s
image, we are His children. The Holy Spirit Himself testifies to
our spirits that we are God’s children – heirs of God and coheirs
with Christ. If we suffer, we suffer with Him so that we can
eventually be glorified with Him.
53

UNSHACKLED
In 1997, three years after the dreadful genocide and after Patrick
had been released from prison, he got a job outside Kigali and
had to be away from home weeks on end. I was pregnant with
our second child at that time, living in isolation. I had no
company whatsoever; no friends, no siblings.... I was literally a
loner, living a life worse than a monk’s. Patrick would be away
for work for a period of three to six months, a solitary period
during which time I kept the house I was renting because it was
closer to my workplace. My prayer life (as a Catholic)
experienced tremendous growth when my husband was in
prison. When I tried to use my effort to have him released and
failed, I surrendered everything to God. When he was released,
my faith grew, and I continued to pray even more. God is so
trustworthy that He could not allow anything bad to happen to
us without a reason.
When I had nothing left, I realized how God loves us. He became
a shelter for my family and me. No matter what your situation
may look like, don’t give up or live in the past, instead, look ahead
and continuing the journey of life. One day I said to myself,
“History has not taken me away. Why should I always have it
before me when God saved me from it?” However, the journey
of the circumcision of my heart had just begun and it was
54

painful. With all the piousness with which I said my prayers, my
heart still bled and harbored too much bitterness, grudges,
hatred and anger towards everyone.
The truth of the matter was that they had all turned against me.
I had enemies both in my family and my husband’s. Then, my
enemies used all sorts of things, including witchcraft to bring
me down. I was cornered on all sides like a vulnerable and
helpless antelope in the face of a herd of lions. Chances of my
emotional and psychological survival were slim. Some invisible
diabolical force was apparently working against me, seeking to
wipe me off the face of the earth. However, God had other plans.
In the book of 1 John 3:8, the Bible says, “He that commits sin is
of the devil; for the devil sinned from the beginning. For this
purpose, the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy
the works of the devil.” I soon saw this verse come true in my
disturbed life.
One day, a cousin of mine unexpectedly visited me. What he
found shocked him. I was huddled in a corner, crying and
literally shaking with fear. All I could do was cry. He reached out
and comforted me. He talked to me about Jesus and told me
Jesus was interested in me and how I felt. When he said Jesus
loved me, a pain went through my heart and I did not know how
to receive Jesus’ love. After prolonged years of pain, betrayal and
rejection from the closest people in my life, it was nearly
impossible to process these feelings of Jesus loving me. I did not
know how to receive love or how to give it. However, my cousin
prayed with me and led me through the sinner’s prayer. When
we were done, he told me not to fear anyone again. I felt a
release, a certain calm feeling rested upon my soul. Without my
knowledge, an eternal, divine conversion had taken place in me.
Immediately after I received Jesus Christ in my life, everything I
had stood on as my foundation in this life shook and came
tumbling down. I did not know at that time that this happens
whenever we declare that we shall no longer serve Satan, but
God. At that moment, every false foundation in our lives, a
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foundation that is not based on the word of God, is shaken to
refine and grow our faith. As I got acquainted with my new life
in Christ, reports began to circulate from my husband’s family
that the child I was carrying was not his. The rumors spread like
wildfire and my husband’s family told him not to take
responsibility of the child. It appeared like pain and I were born
twins. This was really hard, very hard in fact, that I contemplated
leaving that family for good. However, my cousin’s words kept
ringing in my ears. “Do not fear anyone in this life,” he had said,
“Fear God.” Trembling, I took heed of those words. The
hardships drew me closer to God, giving birth to my prayer life.
However, I continued to live with bitterness for a long time.
Blessed is the person who finds God when there are no
problems. It is true that people seek God most when they have
problems. They pray fervently and make many
promises to Him that they never fulfil. When God comes to their
rescue, everything ends there. They immediately forget their
vows and swiftly return to their routine as if nothing had
happened. The Bible says it is better not to make promises than
to promise and not fulfil, (Ecclesiastes 5:1-5). When you are
convinced about your choice to follow Jesus, do not get
distracted by what people say about you. Instead, from their
words, derive more strength and courage to get closer to God.
Even if people rejected you and you lost everything, finding
refuge in Jesus Christ would be enough, since we have
everything in Him. Rejection by men is an opportunity for one
to get closer to God. As I said though, God’s ways are mysterious
and good because they lead us to salvation. Through those few
people who were rejected by their families, many people in the
region converted to Christianity and the message went across
and reached many people. If they had not been rejected after
seeking refuge in God, how would the unbelievers get to know
the truth?
Praise God, for He knows His plans for His people. Our Lord
Jesus is gracious and merciful. He does not condemn those who
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do not accept Him (John 3:17). Rather, He convicts them with His
love. Those who turn to Jesus will always tell you how they
regret the time they spent in spiritual ignorance. They will, in
fact, count that time lost. As my faith in Christ grew and I learnt
more about Jesus’ crucifixion, I also made many new friends that
I did not have before receiving God’s grace. Above all, I had
peace that surpasses all human understanding, which
strengthened me and helped me ignore what people were
saying in a bid to discourage me. I maintained my focus and
pursuit for the higher calling of God for my life and was not
deterred by whatever stood in my way to spiritual growth.
Through my service to God, I gradually understood the will of
God for me. At the same time, I was often overwhelmed by
situations; because serving God is not as easy as many people
think. The way before me was marred with difficulties, but I
surrendered everything to God’s will and power. My conviction
was that God always has answers even for problems to which
we do not have solutions ourselves.
I spent almost 10 years living an empty life because I felt there
was something I had not yet achieved. I moved from church to
church searching for a place that would quench my thirst and
satisfy my hunger. I was unsteady during that period because I
had not yet understood my vocation. It was difficult for me
because there had to be spiritual sacrifices of obedience made
and I resisted the idea of making such sacrifices. It was after a
long-drawn-out struggle that I accepted that I needed to stand
firm in my vocation and start the work that God had called me
to do. I learnt that in many cases, God works through different
types of pressure and difficulties to prompt us to make decisions
that we would not make under normal circumstances. When
people
are distracted or in noisy situations, they cannot listen to the
voice of God. It is only when you are quiet and meditating that
you get an opportunity to hear God’s voice. I thank God who
gave me good spiritual parents and friends who stayed beside
me, gave me advice and prayed for me till I was able to hear
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God’s voice and understand His will. I thank God because He
gave me divine friends and advisors to help me do His work.
After meeting Christ, I decided to step out of darkness and seek
God more, because the ‘noise’ in my heart had been deafening. I
slowly understood that I should not fight for myself. I found a
way to cope with the hardships and understood what other
genocide victims were experiencing in their hearts. Many
families were destroyed, blood relations torn apart and spouses
separated. Had I not sought God, I would have suffered the same
kind of aftermath effect or even worse. As burdensome as the
situation was, God intervened. This experience opened my eyes
to God’s nature as the only true and faithful friend. I
remembered what the Bible says in 1 Corinthians 10:13, “No
temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And
God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you
can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way
out so that you can bear it.” This scripture was so comforting to
me when I needed it most. The knowledge that God was fully
aware of what I was going through, and even trusted that I
would get through it triumphantly gave me the much-needed
strength and courage to take the next step.
58

DEALING WITH BITTERNESS
AND LEARNING TO FORGIVE
For a long time after I was born again, I focused on my problems
rather than the reason why I was facing them. Little did I know
that that in itself was a problem, and I suffered as a result. I
constantly asked God to heal and change other people because
I thought they needed intercession and that I was perfect. When
the Pharisees persecuted Jesus, they were so taken up by their
own sense of self-righteousness that it blinded them to their
own plight. Had they not been obsessed with themselves, they
would have been able to see just how pitiful and in need of a
Savior they were. That alone would have opened their eyes to
the true nature of God that Jesus represented. The prophet
Isaiah said it well: “All of us have become like one who is unclean,
and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up
like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away,” (Isaiah 64:6
NIV). It was only until much later when my eyes were opened
that I realized how much I ‘stank’ before God.
No matter how good our thoughts, speech and actions are, we
must never think that we obtain righteousness from any of that.
The moment self-righteousness creeps in, we become so
detestable to God that we lose sight and vision of Him and all
the eternal gifts He has freely given us by grace. That said, there
is no greater gift than to have one’s sins blotted out completely.
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When we realize that only God can forgive our sins; and that His
forgiveness is freely available for us, then we come to terms
with how privileged we are. Like I was then, some people pray
and go to church a lot, but they have baggage in their hearts. My
heart was filled with hatred and bitterness towards the people
who had hurt my family and me. But I still prayed and felt I was
close to God. However, I did not know that in order to be a true
believer, I needed to change and give up some things so that I
could grow into the new creature Jesus Christ had made me and
that I would experience salvation in its fullness. Even though
people considered me outwardly virtuous and I appeared to be
a nice person, I discovered that on the inside, I was a sinner full
of wickedness. I then started to seek a remedy to my state of
heart because I did not want to live a life of fear and lies
disguised as Christianity.
Many of us are called Christians and yet our souls are sick. Lack
of forgiveness was a serious problem for me because I had many
wounds in my heart; I felt seriously hurt by my people and my
in-laws. I tried to find the role I had played in what I had gone
through, or what I had done wrong, but I could not find any. This
feeling that I had been unfairly treated made it difficult for me
to forgive those who wronged me. 1 John 4:20-21 says, “If a man
says, I love God, and hates his brother, he is a liar: for he that
loves not his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God
whom he has not seen? And this commandment have we from
him, that he who loves God loves his brother also.” Contrary to
what this scripture says, I thought that since I prayed and went
to church, I did not need people because I had experienced
many disappointments through them. I did not want to live with
anybody. I could not trust those who approached me for
friendship. I did not believe that anybody could love me, except
my husband. I tried to let things go but did a very poor job of it.
The devil always reminded me of the hard times I had gone
through, the people who had hurt me and all the suffering I had
endured. Plainly put, I was a new creation in Christ who lived in
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the past; and that never works. All I could see were enemies and
wicked people, and not friends or anybody who had helped me,
given me good advice or encouraged me. When your heart is
wounded for a long time, you may reject people with good
intentions who could help you because you always question
their motives. The more we take our focus off ourselves, the
more we appreciate the grace of God displayed in the love that
Christ showed us when He hung on the cross. Our confidence
should, therefore, be found only in God’s grace; as Hebrews 4:16
says, “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with
confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help
us in our time of need.” Only when we focus on God’s grace can
we conquer the battle between the flesh and the spirit. When
He says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened...”
(Matthew 11:28), and “Come, all you who are thirsty...” (Isaiah
55:1), He gives neither condition nor qualification. There are no
exceptions or extra requirements. Who can resist such love?
The more we ponder on it, the more we are drawn to it.
Eventually, when we are immersed in it, there is neither room
for our minds to wander away from His presence nor the time
for our hearts to lust after evil. I prayed for three days, seeking
God’s intervention. However, thanks to my conscience, prayer
was more of a burden than a joy. The constant reminder of my
bad past hindered me from experiencing my Father’s love. I had
been told that God was fair, so why did bad things happen to
me? The Bible says, “Whoever corrects a mocker invites insults
and whoever rebukes a wicked man incurs abuse,” (Proverbs.
9:7). All these questions came to my mind because I had been
told that I was not clean and needed to change some things in
my life. My human nature felt offended because it’s hard to
accept the need to change when you think you are perfect. I
always felt I was innocent, and only a victim of the situation I
was going through. This made me think that I had the right to
be what I was and that my insolence was justified. The Bible,
however, says; “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither
are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. As the heavens are
higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and
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my thoughts than your thoughts,” (Isaiah 55:8-9, NIV). God saw
me as an imperfect person who was not worthy to stand before
Him. “Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord? Who may
stand in his holy place? The one who has clean hands and a pure
heart, who does not trust in an idol or swear by a false god,”
(Psalm 24:3-6 NIV).
The word of God was like a sharp knife, cutting through my
thoughts and emotions. I was shocked and disappointed that
while I had qualified myself, God my creator and the one I was
desperately seeking after, saw no good in my state of being. I
had been stripped and laid bare, and this was a bitter pill to
swallow. The devil took advantage of my hard heart and
effectively used one of his best weapons against mankind - our
damaging past. For a while, he had me tight in his grip, because
the slightest memory of my past only opened my wounds afresh
and I got repeatedly angry. He succeeded in taking me so many
steps backwards. I became more upset than before because I
noticed that the person I intended to accuse was now accusing
me. On the third day of my prayers, the Holy Spirit gave me an
important message and I took time to think about salvation. I
asked God, “What have you done to me? Think about everything
that I have gone through, and I have not even done anything
wrong?” I decided in my heart that I was giving up. In my shock
and desperation, a stranger came to me and repeated the words
that God had already spoken to my spirit. I was understandably
afraid, and before I could begin reasoning with Him, I was given
clear instructions to “remove all deeply rooted nails from my
heart” before resuming my prayer. The Holy Spirit was referring
to the struggle that was going on in my heart. Right up to that
moment, I believed that there were no nails in my heart. Just
then, I was shocked when I started listing issues that had built
up in my heart. I knew for sure that this had to be the work of
God. There was no way I was going to admit that I was in a
pathetic situation and needed help – the help of a Savior.
The Holy Spirit spoke to me, revealing the five things that
separated me from God’s glory. The first nail that blocked me
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the most was failure to forgive. Of course, I had lived with that
attitude for a long time. I used to smile but felt terrible on the
inside. God did not say anything else to me, but asked me to read
Matthew 6:14-15, “For if you forgive men when they sin against
you, your heavenly father will also forgive you. But if you do not
forgive men of their sins, your father will not forgive your sins.”
After I came to my senses, I read the scripture several times and
that is when I saw how serious my problem had been. It was at
that point that I surrendered. The Bible says, “If we claim to be
without sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. But
if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just, and will forgive us
our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:8-9).”
Jesus explained that it is only by admitting your own mistakes
that you can see clearer. Confession of mistakes is the most
powerful tool of reconciliation. Admitting our sin is the best way
to establish a good relationship with God. David prayed to God
and said, “My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and
contrite heart you, God, will not despise (Psalm 51:17).”
Taking time to pray also helps us to see people through the eyes
of God, although it takes sacrifice. However, we cannot reach
this by counting on our own strength. We need the grace of God
through the Holy Spirit. God wants us to take the first step. We
are not to wait until we find ourselves in positions of revenge.
We should move forward and do what is right despite our fears
and feelings. When we forgive, God releases healing into the
consequences of our past and will work wonders that will
transform every area of our lives. This is how we cooperate with
the Holy Spirit. We also need to be vigilant and ready because
we can be attacked any time. We must know the Word of God
and remember that in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth we
have authority over the power of the enemy. We should stand
for the truth and have boldness. Let us pray so that the Father
helps us to be ready to face the attacks of the enemy and fight
in the spirit. Zechariah 4:6 says, “It is not by might nor power,
but by the Spirit of God.” Let us give Him all our confidence and
all the glory in the name of Jesus. We cannot give up on God
because He loves us much more than we love ourselves. The
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Bible says we did not choose Him, but He chose us. He is the
only one who knows the plans He has for us, but we can rest in
the assurance that they are plans for prosperity and not
disaster.
As I continued seeking the Lord’s help in dealing with bitterness
and lack of forgiveness,
I took off some time and went to one of the prayer mountains in
Uganda. A prayer mountain is a place of isolation where
Christians go to seek the Lord. It is like a pilgrimage to seek God
for extremely difficult things in one’s life. When I went to the
mountain for prayer, I was very expectant. I knew God would
meet me there. I had a long list of prayer requests because, to
me, my problems and sorrow were too much to carry. I was a
born-again Christian who paid my tithe and carried out all my
responsibilities in church, but my heart was not right. My heart
was in bondage to the highest form of hatred and bitterness. I
could not understand why I was suffering. I never accepted that
I had weaknesses myself, and because of that I was always
sorrowful and critical.
The night I reached the prayer mountain, I opened my heard to
God. He told me, “First remove the nails from your heart.” I
could not understand what He meant, so I asked; “What nails,
Lord?” He revealed seven “nails” to my spirit namely; being
unforgiving, selfishness, pride, vanity, self-victimization and
hatred. From all these, the failure to forgive was my biggest
issue. The moment I heard what the Lord said to me, guilt set in.
I knew I was not perfect, but I had gone to the mountain thinking
I was righteous. When I got there, the Lord revealed my true
self. My pride had blinded me from seeing how filthy I was. I
went to a secluded place, sat under a tree and cried out to God
for four hours nonstop. What was making me cry was that I was
seeing God as a respecter of persons, contrary to what His word
says of Him. I honestly had expected sympathy from Him. I felt
that I had been rejected and victimized by literally everyone, but
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I had not let the light of God’s word shine through my heart to
reveal the dark spots therein.
I sat there, crying in repentance and hopelessness. Just then, a
grey-headed old man, who I had never seen and never got to see
again after that, came to me and repeated exactly what God had
told me. “God has told me to tell you that He wants to forgive
you and do you good.” It was then that I started thinking that
maybe I could partly be responsible for my own misery. I knew
I could not possibly be totally innocent. Humanly speaking,
there was no way I could have suffered all that and come
through blameless. To begin with, I had a very twisted definition
of forgiveness. If anyone really angered me, I walked away and
left them the way they were and said nothing to them. That is
what I called forgiveness. I did not know that forgiveness
actually profits the person who gives it. I left that place
acknowledging how wrong I had been. It was at that point that I
decided to forgive all those who had made me suffer, and the
ones who were still against me. This decision was going to be
the hardest I will ever make in my life on earth. After all these
years of accumulated treachery and pain, would I make it
through? I left the prayer mountain hungry and thirsty, ready to
ask
whoever hurt me for forgiveness and also to let them know that
I had forgiven them. I made an effort to personally approach
every one of them that came to my mind. There were very many
people to approach, but I decided to start with my husband. I
can say that that was the best thing I ever did because that is
how he came to know the Lord Jesus. When I asked for his
forgiveness, he did the same. My aim, however, was to first let
those that hurt me know that I had released them and whenever
I did that, I felt that I too, had been released and healed. Before
I knew it, I was talking to people. Eventually, I started getting a
burden for anyone who wronged me. I would empathize with
them. It also opened my eyes to the great of God my Father, and
to the saving power of Jesus His Son. So massive was the reality
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of the weight that Jesus had to bear not just for me, but for the
entire world.
When He gave the sacrifice, He gave us one command – to love
one another the way He loved us. At this point, I started to
understand what this meant. I discovered that we have one
enemy – Satan – whose only mission is to steal, kill and destroy.
I could now stand in that gap, not thinking carnally, but in the
spirit. I understood the persecution that Jesus endured, how
they hated and plotted against Him even when He was innocent.
I was reminded of the scripture that says, “If the world hates
you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (John 15:18). I was
encouraged, knowing that nothing happens without a reason. I
continued to share hope with everyone, assuring them of God’s
goodness, no matter what their situation was. That is when I
searched my inner man and found that our thoughts determine
what happens to us. Thoughts can eventually get us behind bars,
get us released or even get us killed. I discovered that my
thoughts had got me into this spiritual prison I had been in.
Romans 8:6 states that a carnal heart cannot please God. I had
lived with a carnal heart even as a servant of God. I outwardly
appeared righteous, but the inner man is what God looks at (1
Samuel 16:7). We have a choice to make between nurturing what
God wants and what we want. God’s choice is always the best,
but we cannot nurture it if we do not know it. I was glad that
God had given me the privilege of knowing His choice. I made
the choice based on the word of God and the leading of His
Spirit.
As Christians, the fruit we bear on the outside is dependent on
what our inner man is fed on. If we feed the inner man on hatred,
the fruit thereof will be hatred. I decided to do my best to feed
my inner man with good. I realized that that was the making of
a true Christian, one who walks the way God expects him or her
to. My next mission was to tell as many people as possible so
that they could make their own decision based on the word they
hear, just like it is written in Romans 10:17, which says, “So then
faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” I could
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not clearly see God’s love and acts of mercy towards me during
my days of torment, even though He
had intervened on various occasions. I was still blind and
thought that He must have abandoned me. However, when I
accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my deliverer, the knowledge
that God still cared and had a good plan for me flooded my soul.
I could feel life begin to flow in me, despite all the difficult times
I had been going through. I love Jesus because when you
surrender your soul to Him and allow Him to lead your life,
everything settles in harmony with Him. He intervened at the
very last minute and gave me power and encouragement. He
gave me extreme happiness over the difficulties that had
engulfed me. He gave me calmness over gossip, lies and betrayal,
and over all the scorners. Taking one step at a time, I began a
deep and fulfilling relationship with Him.
However, just because I had sought God and had a deeper
relationship with him did not mean I was having it easy.
Absolutely not! With each passing day, some of the hardships
worsened. I tried to defend myself as a human being looking for
a solution. I found no other refuge except having strength in
Jesus Christ alone. He was my fortress and hope during those
trying years. I learned that when you have divine protection,
man’s evil plans cannot harm you. Without that protection, you
will be in a dilemma caused by attacks from evil spirits. Just as a
soldier does not go to battle without a weapon, you also need
God’s power to win life’s battles. When push comes to shove and
death stares you in the face, you must confront it with faith -
just like queen Esther (in the bible) risked and went to King
Xerxes without being summoned (Esther 4:16). It was against the
law for her or anyone to go before the king without his
permission and she did not know the eventual outcome, but she
believed that God would come through for her. And He did!
When you accept the Lord Jesus as your Savior, you are
automatically under the covenant of the Holy Spirit. God’s favor
goes before you and He will intervene in your most perplexing
situations. I remembered God’s promises of love and care
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towards me, and that He had saved me from various critical
situations before. “Only be careful and watch yourselves closely
so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let
them slip out of your heart as long as you are alive,”
Deuteronomy 4:9 says.
Most people try to live as if there are no issues in their lives,
when in reality, there is a serious problem. Such people block
their own blessings because they put a barrier in their hearts.
But God works in many ways, and He is not limited by what we
do. God does not care so much about tears and grief. He is
mostly interested in a clean and repentant heart. Rubbish that
is kept in a place for a long time produces toxins and begins to
stink, and the odor spreads all over until it is known that there
is a problem. Eventually, it becomes poison, which we all know
is deadly. In the same way, if you have unresolved issues in your
heart while pretending that you are alright, you may end
up like the rubbish heap. As time goes on, the problem becomes
severe and moves from your heart to your mind and from your
mind to manifested actions. Unresolved issues affect the
conscience and finally the entire body. They make life bitter and
the poison affects the entire person. You can only give what you
have. When you are in that kind of emotional bondage, your
behavior is equally unpleasant because you cannot conceal the
evil which is in your heart and mind. This eventually worsens
your image. If you are like I was, do not fear, there is hope for
total healing and grace. As you trust God and read and obey His
word, you will gradually begin to notice a change in your heart,
mind and character. Just hold onto God’s promises. In His own
time, God makes all things beautiful.
When I received the power to forgive, I discovered how much I
had been lied to. I also found out that after learning to forgive,
man derives his own peace from within. I was in such bondage.
I lock myself in my room and cry. I was constantly moody and
always worried about the next day. Those were the weapons
that the enemy used to disable me. By the grace of God, I
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discovered Satan’s schemes, and I knew that he is literally the
only enemy I have. John 10:10 says, “The thief comes to steal, kill
and destroy, but I have come that they might have live, and have
it more abundantly.” This scripture made so much sense in my
life after God had opened my spiritual eyes. It was after this that
I decided to forgive completely, and I was fully aware that I was
doing it for my own good. Soon after that, I started teaching and
sensitizing people about the power of forgiveness because I
knew the impact it had had on my life. My painful past had got
me to a place where I felt I was useless and that it was better for
me to die.
Physically I looked whole, but I was dying inside. The word of
God says we should enjoy all the days of our lives, because it is
appointed once for man to die and thereafter judgement. When
a situation is beyond your control, there is nothing you can do
about it. Revenge is never a solution. Even if you killed a person,
it would not deliver you. Instead you would move around with
guilt. The thought of killing this person would haunt you for the
rest of your life. Free yourself, forgive. There is power in
forgiveness. In the beginning, as I started my way to deliverance,
I could not understand why one should forgive until God opened
my eyes to my uncleanliness. As I write this book, I thank God
for the people embarking on this process, for I am sure that
some of them are already reaping the fruits of forgiveness. As
human beings, we do not like such hardships. Yet if we look
around us, almost all great achievements are by people have
faced serious difficulties. God uses difficulties to shape us.
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PEACE OF MIND AND THE
BUMPY ROAD TO FREEDOM
Peace of mind is a crucial fruit of the spirit for every believer
(Galatians 5:22-23). After you have received this gift – I call it a
gift because not everyone has it – you will live life differently.
Sometimes Christians think that their spirits are more
important than the state of their minds. Our hearts and minds
are very important because everything good or bad starts there.
Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all else, guard your heart for it is the
well spring of life.” Nothing gets to me without passing through
my mind. The knowledge that the quality of life is determined
by our state of mind changed my thought process. When I began
working on renewing my mind, I discovered that I really needed
peace. When you have peace, your life is stable. While people all
over the world commit suicide, abuse drugs and kill each other,
you will experience total calmness. People do all sorts of weird
things in search of peace, but it is elusive to them. Only Jesus
brings true and lasting peace. This is one of the reasons why He
came, because He knew that the world needed peace.
As I embraced the word of God and obeyed it, my life began to
truly change. Divine peace flooded my soul like I never felt it
before. If people in our world experienced this peace, we would
have fewer problems. I had tried to find peace for many years in
vain. It was not until I met Jesus that I truly became a peaceful
person. It is not easy
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to forgive yourself, to release the people who wiped away your
family and hunted you down for no crime you committed.
“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the
world gives, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid…” (John 14:27|). Only God can give one
peace. Haven’t you heard what Isaiah 26:3 KJV says? “Thou wilt
keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee:
because he trusteth in thee.” Therefore, trust in the Lord. Let
Him keep you in His perfect peace.
Today, I thank God because my family and I pray together and
ask God for strength day by day to remain in His presence. We
learn new things every day. If I wanted to talk about all the good
things He has done for us and where He got us from, there
would never be enough time. We came from far and we believed
in the scripture that says He will never leave us nor forsake us
(Deuteronomy 31:6). As human beings, we may not understand
this, and our physical eyes may not see anything at the moment,
but God is always at work. I thank God for my past. It may not
have been beautiful, but He has used it to reveal Himself to me.
He continues to teach me, and my spiritual life is enriched. One
of the secrets of keeping your mind at peace is to let go all who
betrayed you. Failure to do this or seeking revenge will only
imprison you. We should close all the doors of grudges and
hatred behind us and focus on making progress in life. We can
achieve much more than we have achieved before if we
constantly remember that trials are inevitable, and we will be
accountable for how we get through them. Romans 12:18-19
says, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace
with everyone. Do not take revenge my friends.” My prayer has
been this, “Lord, help me to put my hurt, pain and offense aside
so that I can restore my broken heart.” My friends, failure will
never be permanent in our lives. To overcome the fight against
Satan, we need to protect ourselves all the time from the sin that
so easily entangles. It is through purification and sanctification
that we will weaken him and his plans for our lives.
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Romans 8:6-7 says, “The mind of a sinful man is death, but the
mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace. The sinful mind
is hostile to God. It does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do
so.” Therefore, being at peace and letting things go does not give
those who hurt you leverage; it is for your own spiritual and
emotional good. I noticed that my bitter attitude was a
roadblock to many of life’s achievements. As I took baby steps in
obeying God’s word and letting my hurt and pain go, I began to
see a great change in my life. It was the beginning of revival,
repentance, forgiveness and reconciliation among my people.
Obviously, my journey to finding total peace, inner healing and
emotional deliverance was not easy. There were good days and
there were bad days. I encountered inner resistance as I strove
towards God’s grace and for
peace to flood my soul. There were many attitude adjustments
to make, many deep-seated misconceptions about life to
correct. For instance, during this process, people that were
closest to me became suspicious. Many wondered why I had
changed while others hypothesized about my reasons for
change. People sometimes think that when you receive God’s
grace it is because you are swamped by problems, so during this
period, people began to ask what happened to me. Once you
receive Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you become the topic of
discussion in your community. Many well-meaning people
wanted to know if they could do anything to help me. Ultimately,
these people did not know the benefits of receiving God’s grace.
I regret the time I spent in darkness, because it is only when I
received God’s grace that I started living a truly meaningful life.
Although I encountered many relapses in my journey, I fought
the good fight of faith. I sometimes faced the same problems
that I had before I met the Lord, and this made me wonder
where else I could get refuge. It was a bit confusing because I
knew the church to be a sanctuary from the world’s problems
and curses. It was after a long time that I understood that the
real house of God is within me. Jesus lives in our hearts, and not
in the buildings constructed by human hands. This brought
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peace in my heart. I decided to live in harmony and at peace with
God’s people. The healing process is not our effort. It is God’s
plan for us. Quick and effortless healing requires our humility
and submission to God. I love Jesus because when you partner
with Him, He helps you deal with the complex issues of life.
Many people prefer to hide and not testify after their healing
and conversion because of the rough road that leads there. In
fact, they fear facing the war that goes hand in hand with
conversion.
Be courageous and fearless because the battle is not yours. Jesus
is on our side and says, “Whoever acknowledges me before men,
I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven,” (Mathew
10:32). Again, the transformation process will not be well
received immediately. People will want to understand why you
stopped doing what you used to do or why you stopped hanging
out with them. It is worse if you have to separate yourself from
the people you used to associate with. Prayer is therefore a
major weapon. For every bullet they fire at you, fight back with
patience, strength, calmness and hope. Although not everyone
will understand you, the plan of God over your life will stand.
Looking back at the events of my life, I see the blueprint of God’s
hand in it. When I was being hunted down by the authorities, I
did not have a place to stay. I most definitely would have been
killed then. When my husband was imprisoned, and my family
had abandoned me, I would have been killed. Even with my job,
it is not by coincidence that I worked there that long without
any harm or sabotage. When I thought about these things, it
became clear to me that it had been the grace of God
sustaining me all that time. It was just by the power and mercy
of God that I woke up every day. I had never seen God as the
best friend that was by me every step of the way, until I made
the right choice to follow Him. Before getting this revelation,
there was no way I could experience inner peace. I was going
through a troublesome time, and because my inner man was
dead, my mind was distressed. My journey to attaining inner
peace started when I understood how Satan, the enemy works,
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and that he was the only enemy I had. How does Satan work? He
creates the impression that you are done for and dying. He
magnifies a situation and creates a mountain out of a mound.
For instance, during the genocide, there are people that
committed suicide for fear of what would happen even before it
happened. However, as long as one is still alive, there is hope.
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DELIVERED TO DELIVER
The more I related with God and grew in my walk with Him, the
more He continuously placed the call to start a ministry in my
heart. However, it was not easy for me to accept it. I kept
brushing the thoughts away. My pastor at that time had spoken
over my life saying I would serve God, but I did not know how it
would happen. While I felt as though it was sufficient for me to
remain serving under her, she repeated the same message to
me. In all honesty, I did not like it, because I could not bear the
thought of letting go of my job. The battle to keep my job or lose
it to start a ministry like God was asking of me was intense. This
went on for four years until I could not take it any longer. At
about the same time, my pastor got very ill, and slipped into a
coma. Then I got a revelation three times that she was giving me
instructions on what I was to do. In one of the visions, she said
to me, “I am tired. Arise and do the work of God.” I was
wondering where I would start, how I would do it and what new
contribution I would make among the pastors who were already
serving. We talked about it and prayed, and immediately after
that, I felt a burden for the broken-hearted, the poor and the
vulnerable so strong upon me. That is when I surrendered to His
will for me.
I believe that God called me to minister to the poor because I
had been poor myself, to the point of craving food that I could
not get. He called me to the broken-hearted because my heart
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had also been broken a million times. I had received healing and
I had to extend it to other broken-hearted people. As the burden
for these groups of people increased, I was drawn to minister to
them part-time. Before I knew it, I had to resign from my job.
This did not just happen easily. It was a struggle. I thought about
my children because I knew that resigning would mean never
working again. How would I educate them? Who would pay my
bills? I asked myself how I was going to survive without a job and
I found no practical answer. Worse still, I now had no spiritual
parent close by because my pastor had passed away.
While I was still struggling with the voice of God, something
profound happened. A workmate of mine approached me and
said, “Have you ever heard of a cane from God?” I was perplexed,
he went on, “There is something God told you to do long ago;
what are you waiting for? If you want God to strike you, go ahead
and buy time, but if I were you, I would make a decision.” That
woke me up. That man was not even my friend. I had never
shared any detail of my life with him. How could he possibly
know about the issue I had been struggling with the most for
four years? Instead of wondering how I was going to survive
without the job, I now thought very seriously about God’s whip.
I knew it would be painful if I disobeyed. I had to let it go. But
how was I going to explain the call of God to my employers?
They were never going to understand me. Then about the same
time, someone called me with a training opportunity which I
took up with the intention of indefinitely leaving my job. I had
long handed in my resignation, but they had not paid much
attention to it. So when the training opportunity came, it was
the perfect exit route for me. I stopped thinking about the
future. I did not even have one hundred thousand francs on the
account.
While God had His master plan, the human part of me also had
a well-laid out plan that I wanted to execute. I wanted to set up
a business that would sustain my children since there would be
no more monthly salary. I was trying to work things out in my
own strength. With my small savings, I opened a bridal shop
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which picked on very well. I stocked it with expensive fabric and
jewelry that appealed to the taste of the middle-class ladies. I
had hired a sales girl whom I supervised every evening after
work. However, the shop did not last six months. Customers
came and bought stuff from my neighbors to the right and left,
but would not enter my shop, and yet I had the best stock.
With time, I could not pay the rent. I had to close the shop.
However, I did not give up. My next plan was to get a loan and
buy a truck. I convinced myself that it would make money by
ferrying merchandise, and return loaded with food for my
children. I bought the truck, which did trade between Rwanda,
Uganda and Tanzania. I got insurance and all necessary
documents for it and hired one of my relatives to drive it.
After three weeks, he drove to Tanzania and disappeared there.
Almost 20 years later, I have never seen him again. I later learnt
that he dismantled the truck and sold its spare parts. I tried to
confront his sister, who was living with me then, but she totally
denied having had any involvement in the vandalism. I decided
to report the matter to Interpol, but whenever I went there to
follow up the case, I was always told they had not found the
truck or its driver.
That was it for me. In panic, I went and confided in a pastor
friend of mine. He laughed at me and said, “The mistake is yours.
You have been trying God. He told you to arise and serve Him.
He did not ask you to arise with money.” I was dumbfounded.
With that, never again did I try to start a business or find an
alternative source of income. I learnt the hard way that I had to
trust God for providence. I let it go. Everyone looked at me like
I was crazy when I resigned with no major savings. Now, I myself
was utterly baffled at my own life. I wondered why I was going
through all this. I questioned my identity. I could not understand
my life. To date I still wonder what the purpose of all this was.
However, one thing was certain, God was calling me to a life of
humility, obedience and complete trust in Him. With all I had
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seen, I decided to surrender to God before I could lose my
husband, my children or even my own life.
Later in life, I faced some resistance from my husband. In the
beginning he was okay with everything I was doing. However, as
time went by, there was pressure and wrong advice from his
friends. They started asking him questions like, “How can your
wife direct the course of your life?” As a leader, I sacrificed so
much. In everything I did, I constantly remembered that I was a
woman, a wife, a mother and a leader. At the same time, I was
expected to bear the kind of fruit a mature Christian should
bear. Because of my culture and tradition, I often came off as a
controlling wife. I was always misunderstood. However, I was
able to draw the line between leadership and calling. One’s
calling is often irrespective of their gender. I always
distinguished between the physical me who was a wife and a
mother, and the spiritual me who covers and guides others.
However, it was not always easy. There were decisions that I
could not make without consulting with Patrick. What made it
difficult was if we were not in agreement. We just could not
come to a compromise. In such cases, I prayed a lot for God’s
guidance.
By the leading of the Holy Spirit, I started a ministry and named
it, “Nathan Restoration Outreach Ministries”, because my life
was one outstanding testimony of restoration. God had restored
me from nothingness to be his servant, driven by purpose. He
called me to restore the broken-hearted. I had been restored so
I could restore others. I chose the name “Nathan” because it is a
biblical name that I gave to my last born
son. I did not name the ministry after my son, but I had a
revelation from God about the name Nathan. God gave me the
name before I conceived him. I had thought I was not going to
have any more children, and so he came as a blessing. However,
his was not a smooth delivery. He was born at eight months, and
for the first four years of his life he could not speak, sit or walk.
This was quite contrary to what God had told me before I
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delivered him. I searched allover for a medical solution to my
son’s problem. There is no recommended hospital or doctor that
I did not visit. However, wherever I went, I was told that there
was no medical solution. I was to rely on God to heal my son. I
then decided to place it as my prayer request to God. The night
I spent at the prayer mountain, I had a dream after God had
confronted the issues in my heart. In the dream, I saw myself
walking in the corridor of our home. Then my son was running
after me, calling me. Remember, at that time, he could neither
walk nor talk in real life. In the dream, he held my dress, and at
that moment a voice told me that the power of my repentance
was going to make my son well. I took the word, got home and
asked for forgiveness from all that I needed to ask it from.
Only one month after that, I was sitting in my living room while
the children played in another room. Suddenly I heard screams
from the other room. I ran to see what the matter was, and there
he was! My own Nathan was standing on his own. That day
changed everything. Today he is in primary six. So, to me, the
story of his life is a representation of restoration. I feel this book
will reach many audiences, because I believe it is an outreach
tool on forgiveness. Whoever reads it will be convicted to
forgive, and then they will receive true salvation, and that is
when they will enjoy all the benefits of God. If you love Jesus,
you will be hated, just like He was. This life is a journey. The
problems faced in this life seem like eternity to those who do
not have Christ, but to us who have hope in Christ, they are but
a passing phase. We also know that Satan is our biggest enemy
and he is the author of all those troubles. He knows that his days
are numbered, and he wants to take as many as he can with him.
As for us, we are indebted to God in one thing – to love one
another as He loved us. He loved us not because we were good,
and so we too have to love one another unconditionally. It is not
an option; it is a command that the Lord gave us.
If we forgive one another, we can love one another, and then we
will turn this world into a better place. It is not a very easy thing,
but it is possible. My deepest desire is that people may live in
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peace. It is indeed something that I have never seen in my life.
There are no other Doctor of Human hearts other than Jesus
Christ. Living in peace is the sign that our hearts are restored,
and when our hearts are restored, we breathe peace; and
eventually have nothing but peace to give to each other. Then
our country will be healed from hatred and wars. My vision now
is to conduct outreaches as much
as I can and to give people hope. I know what sorrow is. It can
drive one mad and even kill them. My vision is for my country
and the world as a whole, to experience the peace that Jesus has
given to us. It is 25 years since I went through hard times. We
have long gotten over many things. My in-laws and my sister are
still around, but we have decided to put that behind us. My
mother-in-law and I reconciled, and she gave her life to Christ
before she passed on. I forgave my father-in-law, although he
stuck to hating me until his last day on earth. Forgiving all these
people does not necessarily mean that it no longer hurts, which
brings us back to the purpose of the book – to preach
forgiveness and minister healing.
One year after I resigned from my job, I felt the need to start a
discipleship class. Then an idea came to me to start with the
young generation. My initial plan was to set up only a nursery
section, but my husband encouraged me to set up a complete
school. In 2014, Mount Carmel School was started. It is a school
running on a contemporary curriculum, but with a Christian
foundation. God is extremely good to me. He has never left nor
forsaken me. He has done me well. He has kept every promise
He made to me. When you are publicly persecuted, you feel like
you have the right to revenge. You might even get support from
other people who may find your quest for vengeance legitimate.
At the same time, however, the persecutor will do all in his
power to justify his actions and sometimes, 80% of the people
will be convinced that the persecution is well-deserved. It took
me long to understand that human beings are prone to the
harshness and dark times that come with life. Although I was not
a good Christian, I later realized that God did not give the life of
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His Son only for those who believed in Him only, but for all
mankind. It is unfortunate, however, that only a handful
embrace the free gift of salvation.
Outreach is one of the ways we tell other people about God’s
love, grace and mercy through the good news of Jesus. When
one is at war, you expect them to leave the battlefield with
spoils. Likewise, when you are sharing the Gospel, you deliver
people from the hand of Satan and they are converted into new
creatures in Jesus Christ. The victory we walk in is not primarily
ours, because it is Christ who accomplishes everything in us and
gives us strength. When we let Him work through us, He enables
and leads us to victory, even in what we would not have
achieved on our own. Through the bible, we can appreciate the
different ways He used to heal people. In the same way, we are
all created differently. Everybody is unique before God and we
are called for different missions. That is why people have
distinctly different life testimonies. If you do God’s will, nothing
on earth will change His plan for your life. If you trust and obey
Him, you will see miracles happening. The only issue is whether
we are truly ready to obey Him without resistance. God wants
to give each of us a new
Life. However, we have to be ready to let go of our old nature
and forgive ourselves and also those who have hurt us. My
journey has been such a long one and I know that without the
power of the Holy Spirit, I would never have made it. People
spend much time focusing on the wrong things. 1 Corinthians
13:1-2 shows us that the most excellent way is love. Verse five in
particular tells us that love keeps no record of wrongs. When
you have love, you become whole in God’s eyes and He gives you
the ability to see like Him and look for the good in people.
Without the love of Jesus, we will never amount to anything.
Proverbs 10:12 says, “Hatred stirs up dissension, but love covers
all wrongs.” Also, 1 Peter 4:8 says, “Above all, love each other
deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.”
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Forgiveness helps us focus on this kind of love and in the
process, we are free from all bondage. As I got strength to heal
and forgive, Satan could not keep me hostage, hence waging war
on me in anger. But let us be encouraged in the fact that in such
wars, we are not the ones fighting: God is fighting for us. Satan
tried to attack my family and make me believe that I had made
the worst decision. In such a situation, we find ourselves
revolting against God. However, our revolt never makes God
change His plans. Getting angry at God is only an obstacle in our
way and a hindrance to healing because it virtually builds a wall
in our mind that blocks the healing power of the Holy Spirit.
Although God desires to heal our wounds, He will not force us
into doing it. It is by our freewill that we choose to let go of
hatred and accept His love in our hearts. Hatred blocks our
healing and blessing. God wants to save us and has His
appropriate time to act. He does not act according to our
wishes; there is a time for everything in His grand divine plan.
In the same way, there is a time to go through hardships, and a
time for rest and restoration. Let us value what has been freely
given to us because we know we were not promised a world
devoid of problems. However, God promised that He would be
with us through the hard times and deliver us to safety. He is
with us, to the end of the ages. May praise, glory and honor be
unto His name, now and forevermore, amen.
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