Fiche du document numéro 5425

Num
5425
Date
Friday March 28, 1997
Amj
Taille
75582
Titre
Testimony of Léoncie Nyiramugwera
Nom cité
Lieu cité
Lieu cité
Type
Témoignage
Langue
EN
Citation
Name:
Léoncie Nyiramugwera
Cellule:
Jurwe
Sector:
Bisesero
Commune:
Gishyita
Préfecture:
Kibuye
Presently living in Remera, Kigali town
Age:
55 years old
Marital status:
Widow from the genocide
Profession:
Tradesman
Léoncie and her family fled Gishyita, Kibuye at the beginning of the genocide and went to
Bisesero where they thought they would be safer. She arrived on 8 April 1994 at gives this
account. (The testimony is slightly confusing with regards to dates, but I think that it was the
8th). I have left out the section of the testimony which comes prior to this section as it is
not relevant to the Yusufu report and start on page 6!
The Tutsis from Bisesero started to group together on the tops of the hills and we went to the
top of Gitwa hill. The men went to try and hold back the attack and the women collected stone.
When I was on this hill I was cured of my illness.
As we were still being attacked, we decided to all get together on the same hill,
Muyira. We suffered alot on this hill. We had to stay outside which was hard as we were used
to being in houses. People began to suffer from diahorria. There was very heavy rain as it was
April and it was the rainy season. Added to all these problems was a sense of panic that we
would be killed by the militia who were attacking us.
In general, the militia attacked at about 9:00 a.m. They used to come in a blue lorry
which belonged to Obed Ruzinbana. I recognised this lorry because, before the genocide, my
husband and I were clients of Obed Ruzindana. He often used to bring beans, sorghum, soap,
salt, etc. We would buy these things to put in our shop. When Obed had finished selling these
goods, before returning to Kigali, he used to go to Gisovu commune to have some tea. I
therefore knew him very well. He used (its not sure whether she is refering to prior to the
genocide, or when they were on the hill) to come in a white van and he liked to park in
Gisoro near the forest which belonged to a man called Joseph Habyalimana.
The militias would come towards us shooting and our men would chase them away
with lances and machetes. Us women and girls would run begind the men carrying stones in our
loinclothes. We were very fast when carrying these stones and there were some girls who very
very brave and fought more than the men. As I was carrying the stones to fight I saw Obed
Ruzindana with a gun in his hand. I distinguished him from the other militias straight away as I
knew him well beforehand. Despite the fact that they were attacking us with guns, we managed
to chase them away and we even killed some of the soldiers and took their guns.
On the Tuesday and Wednesday, the Abashi from Idjui in Zaire went to the markets to
buy what the militia had looted from the Tutsi houses. On Tuesday the market was held in
Gitonde, in Gishita commune and on Wednesday the market was held in Mugonero.
On these days only a small number of people attacked us and we obtained some
security. This was because lots of the militia had gone to market.
Before 13 May 1994 we had chased the militia away, but they had started complaining
about the situation and saying: ‘we won’t come back on our own any more. They’re killing us
and Ruzindana is paying us a little bit of money.’
On 13 May 1994, the militia from Kibuye didn’t come on their own. At about 10:00
a.m. we put stones next to us because we saw lots of militia who were coming many buses,
lorries and vans. They were singing as they came. As we looked around the hills we saw that
we had been surrounded by the population. The soldiers got out of their cars and starting firing
at us. The soldiers and militi were picking up the stones we were throwing and throwing them
back at us. Stones and bullets were falling on us like rain. After a few minutes we saw the
corpses of children, women and old people.
The militia were saying: ‘Show us where to find Birara, a cattle rearer, Kazungu, my
husband, Kabanda, a tradesman, etc.’

As we saw that we could all die, Karamaga told us to look and see if there was a place
where there were only a few militia that we would chase away in order to be able to flee. I ran
with the group who were looking for a way of escaping and, by chance, we managed to find a
way of doing so. As I was running I was a bush where I hid.
In the bush I heard gunfire and the noise of children screaming as they were being
killed. I also heard militia passing by the bush where I was hiding. They were saying: ‘Yusufu
really helped us a lot. Thanks to his militia we’ve been able to exterminate a large number of
Tutsis.’ Another militia said: ‘I can see that we’ve still got bullets left in our guns. Did you
know that Yusufu and Obed said that we were not allowed to return with any bullets left?
They’ll tell us off and say that we haven’t done anything even though we’ve killed a lot of
people. We have to fire into the air and bushes and finish off the bullets so that these two don’t
give us a hard time.’
After giving this advice, the militia fired lots of bullets, even into the bush where I was
hiding but I didn’t come out as I knew what their objective was.
These militia were wearing red and white clothes. They also had grass on their heads.
Some of them were speaking Igikiea which is a language spoken by people from the region in
the north of the country.
That evening the militia went home. I heard the voice of someone who was very sad
saying: ‘All of you who are still alive, come out of your hiding places. the militia have left.’ I
came out and went to Gaheno, the place where all the survivors were grouping together. I had
to jump over lots of corpses.
When I got there I saw lots of wounded people who were asking us for water and
children who were crying beside their dead mothers. We spent the night crying and very early
in the morning, a group of people went to bury some of the people. As they were digging the
graves, the militia encircled them and killed them immediately.
From that time on, we lost any hope of living. When ever we saw a person, people
would say: ‘He’s going to kill us.’ I tried to encourage the people I saw by advising them to
carry on fighting until the arrival of the RPF soldiers. The militia were still coming to finish off
their work (in french it says râtissage and I’m not sure whether it refers to the people or
their possessions). Birara, who died towards the end of the genocide in Bisesero, gathered
people together and made them carrying on fighting.
On day in May, after the 13th, the militia attacked again. I went to hide in a bush near
the road. We liked hiding nearer the road as the militias didn’t think that anyone would hide
their. Next to this bush were the cars of the militia leaders. I heard someone saying: ‘Mr préfet,
do you think that any Tutsis will escape today?’ Laughing, he replied: ‘There really is a very
good game going on here. It’s best to come every day to witness it.’ He also added that the
bourgmestre of Gishyita commune had worked harded than the bourgmestre of Gisovu
commune. When the militia had finished killing they went back to their cars and left.
Another attack which I cannot forget took place on 25 May 1994. Again, the militia
came in lots of cars. I was in Kazirandimwe which is near Muyira. They attacked by shooting
at us. The militia who arrived where I was were really panicking and saying: ‘Where are we
going to return to if we don’t find Ndamage who Ruzindana and Yusufu asked us to kill.’
Ndamage was a tradesman. He was the son of Bisangwe and a native of Gisovu
commune. I heard militia everywhere asking if he had been found. He was finally killed.
As usual, I hid in a bush. Lots of milita were milling around near me. I heard some of
them saying: ‘Work quickly. When are we going to get to Gatare (in Cyangugu).’ Another of
them said: ‘The can see that the Tutsis from Bisesero are finished. Our work is finished.’ Other
militias said: ‘It’s time to go back. Where shall we go today to have some beer.’ They replied:
‘When we get back we can go to Ngoma or Mugonero.’
That evening, we met up together but we were only a small group because the other
were dead. I couldn’t find my husband. The next day, I heard that he had been killed. His
younger brother and other people who were still alive helped me look for his body. When we
found him he had a small hoe in his hand. He had been struck on the back with a machete and
received bullets in the head. He still had his clothes. Other bodies no longer had their clothes.
We buried him. During this time I was completely exhausted.

On 30 May the militia attacked again. As always when they attacked, I went and hid in
a bush in Wingabo. I no longer had the force to run. The militia discovered a child who ran
away crying. He came into my bush. The militia were looking for him and found me as well.
Three militia had come and shouted when they saw me. I told them that I would give
them money if they didn’t call for the others to come. As soon as I mentioned money they
started searching me. They took off the loincloth that I was wearing and found the 50000
Rwandese francs that I had. I was left with a little yellow skirt and a red blouse. After they had
taken my money they hit me on the head with machetes. When they left they thought I was
dead. I had spent about two months running even though I was old. I didn’t eat and I saw
corpses exposed all over the hills. When I was hit with the machetes, I didn’t resist and past out
straight away.
When the militia left, the Tutsis who were still alive went round all the hills looking at
the corpses and the injured. That evening as they were walking round, they picked me up and
took me to Gaheno where a man called Mudacumura, a Tutsi, lived. This was the place where
the injured were gathered.
When I arrived there, they began seeing to my wounds with warm water and special
healing herbs. Very early in the morning, before the attacks, they would put us injured people
in the bushes and put grass on top of us to hide us. Here we suffered even more.
We stayed in this situation until the French soldiers arrived towards the end of June
1994. We were then healed and the survivors who were very ill went to Goma in Zaire to
receive treatment. These soldiers gave us biscuits, sugar, etc.
A few days later, the French asked us if we wanted to stay with them or if we wanted
to go in the RPF soldiers zone. Everyone choose to go into the RPF zone. From that time on
they were angry and they cut all they had been giving us to eat. After they had driven us to the
RPF zone in Kivumu commune, the RPF soldiers took us to Kabgayi in their lorry.
A few days later, the chauffeur who had driven us from Kivumu to Kabgayi helped me
get to Kigali. When I arrived there I went to the house of a woman who was our friend.
By chance, my son Rucyeba, who lived abroad, came to look for me. He looked for a
place for me to live (une maison d’habitation). Afterwards, our friend, Assinupol Rwigara, an
important tradesman, helped me to go to Belgium so I could get treatment for my head wounds.
When I returned from Belgium, my son gave me a shop in the commercial centre of Kigali
town.
Even though I went abroad to receive medical treatment, I have not been completely
healed. I still get dizzy and I can’t walk in the sun. And even though I have a shop, I can’t find
the time to work. I go to the social funds office and to REDEMI every day to reclaim our
money. Before the genocide, we took the finished (cassitérite) to REDEMI in Kigali but we
weren’t paid for it. Now, the employees at REDEMI refuse to pay me. The director says that
they don’t know who I am and that I am a fraud who wants to steal their money.
I have left out a section which is not relevant

Léoncie is struggling to find enough money to care for the six orphans she now looks
after. She has to pay for their school fees and their food and clothes. She isn’t given
any financial help at all. She has heard that her son Oswald Rugemintwaza, his wife
and their four children, were killed by Céléstin Mutabaruka who was the director of
the Crête Zaire Nil programmes, and that their bones are exposed. She doesn’t have
the means to go and bury them.
Léoncie remembers Yusufu’s name because even before the genocide, she used to hear
his name. She says: ‘People often spoke about Yusufu because he was an important
tradesman who was a native of Kibuye and I knew other tradesman like myself.1

1

Interviewed in Nyarugenge, 28 March 1997.

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