Compiled Thesis FINAL

An Analysis of the Rwandan Genocide Memorialization Methods
by Victoriya Bugrimenko
Virginia Rademacher
Awarded April, 2016
____________________ _____________________ ____________________
Dean Ian Lapp Prof. Virginia Soybel Prof. Virginia Rademacher

B u g r i m e n k o |1
Table of Contents
Preface……….…………………….………………………………………………………………2
Introduction ………………………………………………………………………..………...……9
Chapter 1: Role of Remembering and Forgetting in Reconciliation .……….……..……………16
Chapter 2: The Impact of Diverse Memorials in Rwanda ………………………...…………….33
Chapter 3: Memoir and Testimony …………………………………......…………...…………..56
Chapter 4: Documenting Change in Rwanda .…………………………………………………...76
Chapter 5: Youth Culture ………………………………………………………………...……...94
Conclusion ………………………………………..……………………………………………106
Works Cited ……………………………………………………………………………..……..110
Appendix …………………………………………………………………..……..…………….115

PREFACE: THE RWANDAN GENOCIDE
In order to understand the causes of the Rwandan Genocide, or at least the propaganda
that contributed to the seemingly sudden eruption of violence, it is important to consider the
tensions that were long simmering below the surface, beginning with the ethnic divisions created
under colonial rule by the Belgians. In the early 1900s, Belgium became the governing force of
Rwanda-Urundi by the League of Nations under the Treaty of Versailles of 1918 (“Rwanda
Profile – Timeline”). These two territories would soon become Rwanda and Burundi. Although
the Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa classifications existed in both countries prior to Belgium’s control,
these classifications were never enforced nor did they create severe divides within communities,
as far as research shows. Even more fascinating is the fact that Hutus migrated to Rwanda first,
only to be joined by Tutsis in the 14th century. It was easier for Belgium to create a class system
based on this classification, providing the Tutsi minority with power, as it would allow them to
retain stronger control as a result (Schweisfurth 699). They chose to provide western-style
education for Tutsis only, as well as the power to enforce the rules (Schweisfurth 699). Tutsis
(14% of the population) became the elite cattle-herding class, while Hutus (84% of the
population) were farmers and Twa (1% of the population) were mainly forest dwellers and
potters (Taylor 184).
In 1926, the Belgians introduced identification cards in order to separate Hutus from
Tutsis (“Rwanda Profile – Timeline”). Tensions grew high as classifications were constantly
used against Hutus, keeping them from control and power within both Rwanda and Burundi.
Although it is believed that Twa, also called Batwa, were the first inhabitants of Rwanda, their
size was so small that they were almost immediately ignored, especially because they were seen
as “wild” and “disgusting” by the Belgians (Taylor 186). Some of their attributes were very

similar to those of Tutsi, such as their fair skin, a likeness which proved to be fatal for many Twa
during the Rwandan Genocide. The identification cards promoted both physical and behavioral
stereotypes for Hutus and Tutsis. In “Ethnicity without Labels? Ambiguity and Excess in
‘Postethnic’ Rwanda,” Laura Eramian describes, “These stereotypes concerned classic
phenotypic traits that denote Tutsi as tall, slender, and having fair complexions and narrow facial
features and Hutu as short, stocky, dark-skinned, and hav[ing] wide noses and lips,” codifying
appearance and other physical characteristics associated with each ethnicity (101). Behaviorally,
Hutus were thought of as hardworking and honest, but also poor (Eramian 101). These
stereotypes were quickly born from a small portion of actual physical characteristics, limiting
people to the way they looked and the jobs they held. Eramian writes, “Nonetheless, the linkage
between ‘Hutu’ ways and the figure of the ‘simple’ rural cultivator characterized by poverty and
dependency found traction among political leaders and the populace, especially as a moral
justification for postcolonial governance by Hutu leaders” (101). Many Hutus sought
justification for their actions during the Rwandan Genocide through the inequality they faced
throughout the 1900s.
As with the classification system for Hutus, there were similar contradictions in the
stereotypes associated with the Tutsi minority. They were considered to be superior and
independent, mainly because many Tutsis acted as leaders in communities and in the government
(Eramian 101). Although their political control wasn’t necessarily merited on the basis of
intellectual prowess or popularity, within Rwanda or Burundi, it was evidently associated with
their ethnicity. Eramian writes, “During the colonial period, officials explained social
inequalities through ‘Tutsi brains’ and ‘Hutu passivity’ even though many of those inequalities
were wrought or exacerbated by colonialism itself,” reiterating again that the Belgian

colonization efforts led to more tension and ethnic division than ever before in Rwanda (102).
“Tutsiness” was normally associated with strengths such as independence of thought and action
and intelligence, but it was also associated with unfriendliness and aloofness in most social
settings (102). Eramian also states, “Cleverness and trickery are stereotypical ‘Tutsi’ qualities
because it is said that they tricked the Hutu into servitude by giving gifts of cattle,” which again
affirms the tension created between the two main ethnicities (102). From the early 1900s on,
Hutus and Tutsis looked at each other as competition. Because Belgians influenced who was in
charge, Tutsis were much more likely to be in positions of power, taking control away from
Hutus. Although the Belgians enforced the classification system, it was much easier for the
subjugated Hutus to seek their revenge on those executing the power rather than on those who
created the system. Many Hutus built up resentment throughout the years, bottling their anger
until erupting with violence.
Foreshadowing the Rwandan Genocide
Following the introduction of identification cards, a battle for power and control ensued
between Hutus and Tutsis, leading up to the Rwandan Genocide. In 1957, Hutus issued a
manifesto, demanding a change in power that would be more representative of the actual
populations both in Rwanda and Burundi. This movement led to Rwanda’s independence in
1962, both from Burundi and Belgium, and the inauguration of Hutu president Gregoire
Kayibanda (“Rwanda: A Historical Chronology”). Many Tutsis fled Rwanda after Kayibanda’s
presidency began. Although Rwanda was a separate country from Burundi, Burundi’s ethnic
divides fueled those in Rwanda, specifically because Tutsis remained in control in Burundi, but
not in Rwanda. Although Tutsis still held some power, the tension between the two ethnicities
grew immensely. Samantha Power notes, “Independence ushered in three decades of Hutu rule,

under which Tutsi were systematically discriminated against and periodically subjected to waves
of killing and ethnic cleansing” (“Bystanders to Genocide”). These attacks caused even more
Tutsis to flee. Estimates suggest that roughly half of the Tutsi population lived outside of
Rwanda by the mid-1960s due to fear of being harmed or killed (“Rwanda: A Historical
Chronology”).
Ten years later, new outbreaks of retaliatory Tutsi killings began, violence that prompted
Hutu General Juvenal Habyarimana to seize power and become president in 1978. Although
there was clear favoritism among the people he put into power, such as the Hutus from his home
area in Rwanda, he constantly declared that he sought peace (“Rwanda Profile – Timeline). This
is seen by his adamant efforts of creating a cease-fire between the Rwandan Patriotic Front
(RPF) and Rwanda in 1991, but his initiative of arming and training civilian militias in the same
year suggested a focus more on violence and war than peace (“Rwanda: A Historical
Chronology”). The RPF was created in 1986 by Rwandan exiles in Uganda and remained a
prominent force during the Rwandan Genocide. After the cease fire in 1991, President
Habyarimana failed to create a multi-power system between Hutus and Tutsis, causing more
tension and justifying the RPF attacks further. In February 1994, the RPF attacked Rwanda once
again, gaining more land and access into Kigali. This should have been seen as a giant red flag
among the international community, but Rwanda was left on its own to resolve the ethnic
divisions that had begun in 1926. Unfortunately, by this point, the damage was too severe to
erase. In 1990, the “Ten Commandments of the Hutu” were published by the Kangaura1, stating
that all Hutu are equal and must work together against their common enemy Tutsi. Any and all
1 This was a Hutu paper in Rwanda, which translates to “Wake Up,” and was used frequently as propaganda to
spread violence throughout the country.

associations with the Tutsi would make a Hutu a traitor (A Problem From Hell 373). Each
attempt at peace was destroyed by the fomented hate many Hutus held for Tutsis.
On the other hand, hopes rang high during August of 1993 as President Habyarimana and
the RPF signed the Arusha Peace Accord. Russell Geekie explains the potential reconciliation:
The terms of the accord provide for the setting up of a broad-based transitional
government to assume power in mid-September; the holding of multi-party elections in
22 months; and the formation of a unified army, to be made up of members of the Tutsi-
dominated RPF and the mostly Hutu national army. Forty percent of the forces will come
from the Tutsi minority. In addition, the agreement reaffirmed an earlier commitment to
repatriate the almost 1 million Rwandan refugees in neighboring countries. (10)
After the agreement was signed, 2,500 UN Troops were deployed in Rwanda in order to oversee
the implementation of the peace accord. Although some believed the peace accord was the end of
the Civil War, President Habyarimana stalled the creation of the new government, providing
many Hutus the time to prepare a Tutsi execution plan. Radio stations, such as the Radio-
Television Libre des Mille Collines (RTLMC), were used as propaganda to influence many
Hutus to kill Tutsis later on. Radio talk hosts spoke of the inequality between Hutus and Tutsis
and the utopic life that Hutus would have without them. This continued from September to
March, alarming multiple human activist groups, motivating them to warn the international
community (“Rwanda: A Historical Chronology”). Unfortunately, no one stepped in. On April
6th, 1994, a plane carrying President Habyarimana and President Ntaryamira of Burundi was shot
down, an event that triggered the start of the Rwandan Genocide, as the Hutus declared it an act
of Tutsi violence (Mukashema 80). Since extremists suspected that the president was close to
implementing the Arusha Peace accords, they were blamed for the deaths of the two presidents,
although no one ever claimed responsibility for the attack (“Rwanda: A Historical Chronology”).

Understanding the Rwandan Genocide
Following reports of the deaths of Presidents Habyarimana and Ntaryamira, the killings
began almost immediately. In summarizing the events that followed, Mukashema and Mullet,
authors of “Attribution of Guilt to Offspring of Perpetrators of the Genocide: Rwandan People’s
Perspectives,” recall:
A few hours after the event, the interim government launched from the capital well-
planned attacks against Tutsis and moderate Hutus, which quickly extended to all
provinces in the country. From April to mid-July, about 800,000 people were killed by
members of the military, organized bands of militia, other groups of rebels, and farmers
who voluntarily joined them or were called by officials to actively participate in the
massacre by killing or informing the killers. (80)
Although some Hutus didn’t want to contribute to the killings, many of the killers forced their
hands by threatening to kill them or their families if they did not participate. In A Problem From
Hell, Samantha Power explains, “Because the Hutu and Tutsi had lived intermingled and, in
many instances, intermarried, the outbreak of killing forced Hutu and Tutsi friends and relatives
into life-altering decisions about whether or not to desert their loved ones in order to save their
own lives” (369). As mentioned earlier, propaganda through radio and paper was used frequently
in persuading Hutus to kill. It’s important to note that killers didn’t focus solely on males or
adults, but instead they raped and murdered countless women and children in order to prevent
future generations from rebuilding the Tutsi population. On April 19th, Human Rights Watch
labeled the killings of roughly 100,000 Rwandans a genocide (“Bystanders to Genocide”).
Despite the depth of the crisis, the acts of violence continued.
As the death toll increased, the severity of the continued violence drew international
attention, but not sustained intervention. Ten Belgians were killed attempting to protect then-
Prime Minister Agathe Uwiliyingimana, who was brutally murdered after their deaths. By April
21st, only 250 UN peacekeepers were left from the original 2,500 because the UN, along with the

majority of the international community, feared the deaths the Rwandan Genocide would cause
to their own people if they intercepted (A Problem From Hell 403). No country has ever
admitted that they allowed Rwandans to die in order to protect their own soldiers and citizens
from dying, but most of the international community did abandon Rwanda to battle the Genocide
on its own. Although some members of the UN wanted to help, such as General Romeo Dallaire,
they were left without an army to follow through on their desires (“Bystanders to Genocide”).
Power claims, “President Clinton certainly could have known that a genocide was under way, if
he had wanted to know,” again emphasizing the lack of assistance from other countries. Killings
continued until mid-July.
While some Tutsis were protected and not all Hutus attacked, much of the population
became killers, either by will or by force. The numbers of deaths vary by source, mainly because
so many were killed in such a short amount of time. Even today, many burial grounds are still
identifying corpses. Schweisfurth remarks, “Estimates vary, but approximately half a million
Tutsis and moderate Hutus were slain in the space of three days, leading to the chilling statistic
of this as the most ‘efficient’ genocide in history, with a killing rate five times that of the Nazis”
(699). The RPF battled against the Interahamwe militia, made up of mostly young Hutus trained
to kill and dismember Tutsis, until they finally captured Kigali in July of 1994 (Schweisfurth
699). On July 4th, the RPF took control of Kigali, sending many Hutus and refugees to Zaire and
Tanzania due to fear of revenge and punishment (A Problem From Hell 417). Liberation Day is
now celebrated annually on the fourth of July in Rwanda. Paul Kagame led the Tutsi rebels to
Kigali, giving him the opportunity to take leadership of Rwanda after their success – a Tutsi
leading the country once again (A Problem From Hell 417). The Genocide had ended; yet it was
only the beginning of a lingering pain for both Hutus and Tutsis.

INTRODUCTION
Although the Rwandan Genocide occurred over twenty years ago in 1994, the country
and the communities within are still dealing with the consequences of this tragedy. Many have
yet to heal properly or forgive those involved for their brutality. The Rwandan government has
adopted a few limited measures of reconciliation since the event, such as the Gacaca courts
(2005-2012)2, but none have seemed to truly improve the condition of the society. Although
identification cards have been removed from Rwanda, the divisiveness between Hutus and Tutsis
still exists. Many Rwandans fear speaking about and addressing their traumatic past and
exempting those that inflicted pain on them and their families. At the same time, both Rwandans
and others have responded to the legacy of this trauma with the creation of monuments,
memoirs, documentaries, and other forms of cultural expression that attempt to acknowledge,
repudiate, remediate, or somehow find explanation for the Genocide. This prompts my research
question: What do different memorialization methods strive to do and how successful are they in
reflecting or informing us about the process of coming to terms with a divisive history?
Moreover, how can monuments, memoirs, documentaries, and other artistic forms of
memorialization enhance the process of reconciliation in Rwanda? My research considers the
process of transition in Rwanda, focusing on a range of memorialization methods. I relate these
examples to theories of memory, forgetting, and transitional justice in coping with a traumatic
past. Denying and avoiding the past are not effective long-term strategies for resolving a
2 The Gacaca courts were a traditional community court systemre-established in 2005 to address the fact that
thousands ofaccused were awaiting trial in the national court system. Communities at the local level elected judges
to hear the trials of Genocide suspectsaccused ofall crimes except planning of genocide. The Gacaca trials also
served to promote reconciliation by providing a means for victims to learn the truth about the deaths of their family
members and relatives. They gave perpetrators the opportunity to confess their crimes, show remorse and ask for
forgiveness in front of their community. More than 12,000 community-based courts tried more than 1.2 million
cases throughout the country.

conflictive history. By educating both Rwandans and others alike on the causes of the Genocide
and possible ways to reconcile, we are more likely to prevent future genocides around the world.
I chose to write about the Rwandan Genocide because I wanted to engage meaningfully
with this challenging history. I hoped to work on a project that addressed a significant moment in
history that is not nearly studied or talked about enough. Despite the passage of two decades,
there is still a considerable amount to learn from it. Ideally, I sought to help generate constructive
thinking about the effectiveness of differing responses to the Rwandan Genocide. Personally, I
desired to gain a clearer understanding of the causes and consequences behind it and to wrestle
with some of the questions that were initiated during my visit to Rwanda in the summer of 2014.
Lastly, I wanted to identify and analyze effective methods of memorialization that have been
undertaken in Rwanda and could be related to a number of other countries. Not only did I want
to look at the past, but I also wanted to see and draw attention to the value of some of these
memorialization methods and how they could benefit other societies in the future, both in terms
of reconciliation and remembrance.
I specifically wanted to focus on forms of memorialization because Rwandans have been
faced with the daunting task of moving on from the divisive trauma of the Rwandan Genocide,
while simultaneously remembering and honoring the people they have lost. There is a plethora of
ways to remember a moment in history, whether writing about a personal experience or
showcasing a collective experience through a memorial. Each method can benefit not only the
one expressing the experience and emotions or those who directly experienced the effects of the
trauma, but also others who have only a tangential connection to this history or who learn about
this history from its resonances. Memorialization methods have the ability to bring a community,
or even an entire society, together in order to move on as a whole, rather than abandoning

individuals to mourn or otherwise remember in isolation. Not only do these methods have the
potential to convene people, but memorialization methods can also illuminate ways to progress
and shift focus away from the hostility and the anger that past actions have caused. In “On
Collective Memory,” Maurice Halbwachs explains, “If we examine a little more closely how we
recollect things, we will surely realize that the greatest number of memories come back to us
when our parents, our friends, or other persons recall them to us,” which emphasizes the
collaborative influence people have on one another, especially when looking back on history
(38). Memorialization can educate and bring communities together in multiple ways, varying
from gathering people around a physical monument to coalescing people around a common
narrative or image of the past, as films and memoirs do. Ultimately, they can shift focus to the
future by showing the mistakes and consequences of the past. Personally, I am quite fascinated
with different memorialization methods because of the power they have to impact lives. When
we learn about history, we have a way of distancing ourselves from tragedies because they can
be difficult to relate to or even difficult to comprehend. By hearing and/or seeing true accounts
through differing testimonies, we are forced to recognize them for what they are. We become
more aware of the conflicts taking place every day and the role we can play in order to help or
even to prevent them. These methods influence the way we form new policies, help others, and,
ultimately, learn from our past.
I first became immersed in the topic when I visited Rwanda as part of the Babson
Entrepreneurial Leadership Academy (BELA) Program, along with then Babson Provost Dennis
Hanno and a handful of other students, faculty, and staff. We visited the Kigali Genocide
Memorial on our second day in Rwanda. Although I had been exposed to basic information
regarding the Genocide through multiple educational courses, I hardly knew the extent of the

tragedy. The twenty years since the end of the Genocide was exactly the same as my own age at
the time of my visit. I walked through the memorial in disbelief over how recently these events
had occurred, how humans were capable of such violence, and how it wasn’t talked about nearly
enough. Some of my peers barely knew of the Genocide or had gained all of their knowledge of
the topic from the Hollywood movie Hotel Rwanda. During my visit to this memorial, not only
did I learn more about the Rwandan Genocide, but I was also made aware of other genocides
around the world, such as the Armenian Genocide of 1915. Although I was moved by every
section of the memorial, I was most affected by the last section revolving around children lost
during the Rwandan Genocide. The section featured pictures of the children, their age, usually
ranging from just a few months old to 7 years old, their last words, and the way in which they
were killed. Again, I was shocked by the cruelty of human nature, but I was also in awe of the
way the memorial was created, ranging from the sections they chose to include to the burial sites
to the symbolic gardens surrounding the memorial. It seemed that some aspect of the Kigali
Genocide Memorial could connect to and have an effect upon every one of its visitors.
After visiting the memorial, we were introduced to the five students we would be
teaching and mentoring for the following week. Each of my students were from the top of their
classes from different high schools in Rwanda and were eager to learn about the business world.
Throughout the week, we taught a condensed version of the Foundations of Management and
Entrepreneurship course at Babson College, with a final rocket pitch competition on the last day.
As my group got to know each other, we began asking each other about our families. As I told
them about mine, how the majority of my family lives in the Ukraine and that I had little
opportunity to see them, I realized just how lucky I was in comparison to the tragedies they had
faced. Although they felt comfortable with the topic, considering many of the children of

Rwanda have similar stories, it was shocking to hear how many family members they were
missing. One of my students, Afsana, told us about her father’s side of the family, gleaming
about their accomplishments in the business world. She only briefly mentioned her mother’s
side, saying that she lost most of them during the Genocide. These children were forced to grow
up amid sharp losses, and left to attempt to understand the cruel acts of their friends, their
neighbors, their teachers, and even their own family members. This was my initial glimpse of the
consequences of the Genocide, which inevitably made me want to learn more. I wanted to
understand how the Rwandan Genocide happened, but also to explore what might best help the
healing process in Rwanda and what strategies could potentially support individuals in other
countries and societies. It seemed important to examine how a society could address such a
searing event that so devastated its population and formed deep ethnic divisions. It was equally
crucial to recognize how its society could strive to make sure that the risk of such violence
wasn’t simmering below the surface once again.
I have organized my research into five chapters that capture a variety of memorialization
methods: physical monuments, written memoirs, documentaries and historical dramas,
testimonies, and other forms of artistic expression revealed through art therapy by children who
live in the wake of this traumatic history. These each reflect modes of memorializing because
they were all created for the purpose of remembering the implications of the Rwandan Genocide
and, in different ways, tell the story of what happened. To memorialize something means to
preserve the memory of something that may otherwise be lost to time and physical absence.3
Though the perspectives change from collective responses to more personal experiences, both
qualify as ways of memorializing the past. By remembering and calling upon others to remember
3 Oxford Dictionary

why these stories are important, memorialization ties research and action together. As will
become clear throughout my research, there are different views of what happened and how
Rwandans, in particular, have dealt with the horrific events of the summer of 1994, but, in terms
of this project, all of these divergent views are crucial to understanding what is beneficial to
Rwanda, both as a country and as a community. Though some views may be controversial or
against the official history of the Rwandan Genocide as reflected by the current leadership of
Rwanda, being able to hear, read, and see different perspectives creates a better overall
understanding of the Genocide. It is important to not only see the variety of memorialization
methods available to both Rwandans and others interested in learning about the Genocide, but
also to examine these efforts comprehensively rather than in isolation. As mentioned before,
silence is not a long term solution and, ultimately, benefits no one. As noted in “Recovery from
Psychological Trauma,” Judith Herman points out the three stages of recovery from a traumatic
experience: the establishment of safety, remembrance and mourning, and reconnecting with
ordinary life and relationships (99). Throughout this project, I focus mainly on the second stage
where survivors are able to tell their stories, whether through testimonies in memorials, in films,
in memoirs, or in art.
I begin in Chapter 1 by looking at theories of memory, forgetting, hauntology, and
transitional justice in order to organize the various theories that are addressed in the following
chapters. The first chapter acts as the basis for conceptualizing these theories and how they
connect to the processes and functions of memorialization methods in post-1994 Rwanda. The
second chapter studies three significant memorials in Rwanda, each incredibly different in
architecture, purpose, and meaning. Chapter 3 focuses on three written memoirs about the
Rwandan Genocide, covering a timeline of pre-colonized Rwanda to years of recovery up to

1998. The fourth chapter examines a range of films and documentaries, evaluating an assortment
of perspectives. In studying memorialization methods, it seemed essential to look not only to the
past, but also to recognize the younger generations as the ones currently shaping and changing
Rwanda. This is why the fifth and final chapter looks at young Rwandans who did not directly
experience the Genocide, but are still affected by it indirectly by being born into disrupted
families, neighborhoods, and communities marked by loss. In order to evaluate how various
memorialization methods have affected the younger generations, an eight short answer
questionnaire was used to gauge the utilization and impact of each memorialization method (See
Appendix 1). Not only is it imperative to examine the motivation and form of various
memorialization tools, but it’s equally valuable to examine their potential influence within
diverse communities in Rwanda.
Through the chapters of my thesis, I will strive to explain the memorialization efforts
taken by Rwandans to remember and heal from the massacres that occurred during the summer
of 1994. I analyze what gives expression to the lingering effects of the Rwandan Genocide
among Rwandan youth to learn and share my discoveries. I study the content and the effects of
these works within Rwanda, in the expatriate community, and from the point of view of outsiders
learning about the Rwandan Genocide. At the exit of the Kigali Genocide Memorial, a sign poses
the following question: “When they said ‘never again’ after the Holocaust, was it meant for some
people and not for others?” Understanding and analyzing a mixture of memorialization methods
in Rwanda is crucial to interpret how Rwandans, and other humans suffering from tragedy, can
properly heal and prevent such mistakes from happening again.

CHAPTER 1: ROLE OF REMEMBERING AND FORGETTING IN RECONCILIATION
In this chapter, I explore the reconciliation strategies used after the Rwandan Genocide,
as reflected through processes of memory and forgetting, and their impact on the communities
within Rwanda. By applying key theories in memory studies (Erll and Nunning) and Paul
Connerton’s seven types of forgetting to Rwanda’s situation, I consider the repercussions of the
Rwandan Genocide and the efforts of many sectors of its population to seek resolution,
retribution or, alternatively, to bury away a problematic past. I look at memory on an individual,
social, and cultural basis to consider and compare the effects on both individuals and on
communities as a whole. Most importantly, I examine how collective memory – a social group’s
sense of shared identity based on traditions, history, and perceived unity – may be ignored or
affected after a tragedy. Diverging responses to the genocide range from vengeance to
forgiveness, from revisiting the past to the creation of a new Rwandan identity. In turn,
Rwandans’ desperate efforts to make sense of their recent history’s conflictive past have often
forged a consequence of avoiding the past altogether. As suggested by Connerton, as in our
personal lives, letting go of a conflictive past and “forgetting” wrongs that have caused harm
may be successful at times. However, cultural critic Jo Labanyi also points out the dangers of
simply burying a painful history. Through the concept of “hauntology,” she considers how, left
unresolved, the ghosts of our pasts will come back to haunt us (65).
Memorials are testaments to the weight and significance of the past. By analyzing
examples of memorialization in Rwanda post-1994, I study a range of approaches, analyzing
their consequences and potential repercussions for the country and its future. By definition,
memorials are “something, especially a structure, established to remind people of a person or an

event.”4 By analyzing the methods in which we remember and forget events, it becomes clear
how Rwandans memorialize their recent and traumatic history, as well. Not only do memorials
serve as reminders but they are created with specific intentions in mind, and in their forms and
constructions they call upon us to remember things a certain way. Although I discuss specific
memorials in great detail in Chapter 2, simply looking at the Kigali Genocide Memorial, it is
clear the focus lies on those lost and the repercussions of tension between ethnicities. Memory
can serve many different purposes, but in the case of Rwanda, I will be looking at how acts of
memory can assist individuals and communities in processes of healing and reconciliation. By
looking at how memory works, along with the types of forgetting, I then study how Rwandans,
as individuals and even as communities, have decided to memorialize this nationally altering
event and why.
Aspects of Memory
Remembering is normally perceived positively, as it develops and maintains the
progressive identity of a culture, but memory can also serve as a harmful and detracting reminder
of wrongful acts and tragedies. In “History and Development of the Concept of ‘Communicative
Memory’,” Harold Welzer summarizes the effect history can have on memory and the future:
It is established knowledge that individual memory only takes on form within social and
cultural frameworks, that countless aspects of the past have a direct and lasting impact on
current interpretations and decisions, that there are transgenerational transmissions of
experiences whose impact reaches even into the biochemistry of neuronal processes in
later generations, and that non-simultaneous bonds can suddenly and unexpectedly guide
action and become historically significant. (Erll 286)
He emphasizes that the consequences of critical historical events, such as genocides, can be felt
for generations to come, passed down through oral testimony or, contrastingly, the implications
of its absence through silence within entire communities. Without an established sense of
4 Oxford Dictionary

community or education to teach future generations of the events that occurred, people can and
will determine their own ideas of a history, regardless of accuracy. Schweisfurth explains, “In
the aftermath of the genocide, the lack of material and human resources to teach alternative and
critical views of history meant that for a sustained period of time, history was not taught at all in
primary or secondary schools,” revealing the state of suppression in Rwanda immediately
following the end of the Genocide (701). Without properly being able to come to terms with their
memories, Rwandans were forced to address their pain and loss alone, having lost both
community and safety.
Memory provides the ability to create a sense of identity through individual,
communicative, and cultural memory, as clarified by Jan Assmann. Thinking about this as a
widening circle, the inner level is focused on personal memories, such as childhoods, families,
individual preferences, etc. The social level invokes memory in relation to societal roles, mainly
through communication, leadership roles, and anything that provides the opportunity to interact
with others. This communicative memory builds social skills, allowing people to live in
communities and build relationships with those around them. In essence, communicative
memory leads to building trust, dependency, friendships, and other relationships. Lastly, cultural
memory helps build identities through history and a shared collective understanding of the
culture with those within it (Erll 110). All three types of memories contribute to senses of
identity and community, so when they are fractured or when multiple versions of the past begin
to compete within one community, individuals begin to lose their sense of belonging. Although
Hutus and Tutsis were cast as enemies during the Rwandan Genocide, memorialization has the
potential to bring them together again, specifically by strengthening collective memory through
physical, written, and visual memorialization methods.

Collective Memory
These three levels of memory also combine to form the collective identity and memory of
an entire community, society, or nation. As Halbwachs illustrates, “Collective frameworks are, to
the contrary, precisely the instruments used by the collective memory to reconstruct an image of
the past which is in accord, in each epoch, with the predominant thoughts of the society” (40).
He argues that collective memory is based off of the community an individual belongs to and is
constantly influenced by those within it. Not only can a tragedy, like a genocide, destroy an
individual’s sense of belonging, but it can also become a constant reminder of disaster and loss.
Since collective memory is strongly influenced by friends, family, and acquaintances within
certain communities, their absences can alter the perception of the communities and those within
it. Rwanda was a country of conflict for years before the Rwandan Genocide. Many have argued
that these divisions originated when the “Belgian colonial administration construed the Tutsi
people as superior and gave them a number of advantages over the Hutu and Twa,” and lasted
through their independence in 1962 (Schweisfurth 699). However, a large portion of the country
wants to resolve their conflicts, rather than exploit them even further (Schweisfurth 699). Since
collective memory is one shared with others, specifically those within one community, the
members within it may at times skew or suppress certain aspects of their pasts in ways that affect
the entire community. Without a sense of a collective memory that restores a perception of
sharing a common identity, Rwandans may continue to be overcome by the legacy of
divisiveness and hatred that marked the period of the Genocide and its immediate aftermath.
Although they have already taken some immediate action, such as removing the ethnic labels
that were previously instilled, Rwandans would benefit from more attention to rebuilding their
communities (Schweisfurth 700). They each experienced the Genocide differently, so by

vocalizing and explaining their perspectives of the tragedy, their communities, as well as the
nation, can better understand how it began and how similar crimes can be prevented in the future.
As mentioned before, silence doesn’t always benefit societies or individuals when they are
forced to face and overcome tragedies completely on their own. By understanding one another,
Rwandans can move on together, overcoming both their fear and loneliness. It is more important
to find other things that draw their common history and sense of identity forward, such as the
future they want for Rwanda, than obsessing over the past, as argued by Jo Labanyi further in
this chapter. By developing a collective memory throughout the nation, both Tutsis and Hutus
can move past this tragedy without having to defend their position, their families, or any of the
decisions they were forced to make during the Rwandan Genocide.
Although collective memory can unite members within a community, it can also give
power to the leaders of a group to reinforce a specific version of the past. In Chapter 5, I will be
looking at how generations born immediately after the Genocide were affected, both through
internal and external factors, such as stories passed down through their communities, their
education, and their own reactions to memorialization methods. Relevant to these generations,
Halbwachs claims, “Society from time to time obligates people not just to reproduce in thought
previous events of their lives, but also to touch them up, to shorten them, or to complete them so
that, however convinced we are that our memories are exact, we give them a prestige that reality
did not possess,” conveying how one may accept a past “as past” that he/she did not actually
experience or that may not be reflective of what was actually experienced (51). Those who
weren’t directly involved in the Rwandan Genocide relied on their communities and education
systems to teach them of the events that occurred. If the leaders of those communities decided
that society would be better off by forgetting about the machetes used or the infants brutally

murdered, they could simply leave out that part of their history. Although this may seem like the
better option in terms of protecting future generations, the lack of awareness this revisionism
would create – by glossing over the ethnic and cultural divides within the country – could
influence yet another tragedy to occur.
The generations that did live through the Genocide experienced similar alterations to their
recollections of the event. As Halbwachs mentions, society plays an immense role in influencing
memories (40). In order to feel better in the present, some members of the community may have
begun to skew their perceptions of the past to potentially justify their feelings or actions or to
make it easier on themselves by displacing blame and repressing certain memories. He explains,
“We shall better understand the nature of this reshaping operation as it applies to the past, if we
do not forget that even at the moment of reproducing the past our imagination remains under the
influence of the present social milieu,” addressing the social pressure to forget or to suppress
certain memories (49). As a result of the Genocide, all Rwandans, regardless of ethnicity, were
deprived of normalcy in their day to day lives and many had to hide their identification as either
Tutsi, Hutu, or Twa. Many watched their family and friends die and many were pressured to
participate in unspeakable acts – hurting strangers, friends, and even family members. On an
individual basis, many were faced with making decisions that were counter to individual
morality in order to survive. Family units were shattered as parents, children, or siblings were
murdered; children were separated from their families, and others fled the country altogether.
Marriages fell apart as their ethnic differences were continuously used against them; friends were
forced to resort to killing in order to save themselves and their families, and the idea of trust
became a distant memory. From a cultural perspective, a sense of shared national identity was
overtaken by ethnically determined factionalism in Rwanda, and years of memories were

destroyed between the months of April and July 1994. As mentioned, ethnic tension created
divides long before the Rwandan Genocide, but some Hutus did create relationships with Tutsis,
through marriages, families, friendships, and so on. Since the Genocide’s main influence was
Hutus’ hatred for Tutsis, the ethnic division created even more hostility and fear in forming
relationships again. Their memories were in the faces of their neighbors, their teachers, their
coworkers, and others within their communities, so by blaming propaganda or a selected few for
the crimes committed, it was easier on victims and perpetrators alike to move on from the past.
Although the emotional and mental wounds were deep, Rwandans’ desire to resolve conflicts,
especially with help from the United Nations, is even greater (Schweisfurth 699).
If the goal was to look towards the future, one of the most straightforward pathways to do
so may have been to forget or, to create a more selective view of the past that was more
manageable. Yet by suppressing the fact that Rwandan history was filled with ethnic division
and conflict, Rwandans risk remaining mired in that past. If they don’t identify the problems
accurately, they can never create the most appropriate and beneficial solutions for their
communities. For example, by shifting blame to the Belgians for creating the Hutu, Tutsi, and
Twa labels or decrying the countries who refused to help or give the necessary resources to
survive, the divisiveness of these ethnic divisions can be ignored. Ultimately, Rwandans create
their collective memory and what they decide to remember and share with others. As Halbwachs
describes, “[Memories] are recalled to me externally, and the groups of which I am a part at any
time give me the means to reconstruct them, upon condition, to be sure, that I turn toward them
and adopt, at least for the moment, their way of thinking,” presenting the idea that what is shown
through memorials, films, autobiographies, and other memorialization methods provides a
method for Rwandans to reconstruct what they choose to remember and how they want to

address the past (38). It is difficult for everyone within a community to see an event exactly the
same way, especially with family members and friends involved, but by exposing the different
perspectives of the Genocide, Rwandans can learn from their mistakes and focus their energy on
uniting once again. By creating and sharing a collective memory through memorialization,
Rwandans, as well as others who were exposed to the Genocide, can learn from the causes,
mistakes, and effects of the Rwandan Genocide to prevent similar tragedies from forming.
The Types of Forgetting
Paul Connerton’s “Seven Types of Forgetting” provides a useful paradigm to consider the
causes and consequences of Rwandans’ silence and forgetting following the Rwandan Genocide.
Elena Esposito insists: “In remembering, one faces the world, in forgetting, one faces oneself – a
circumstance that will always create problems for all approaches that believe the two references
to be independent,” affirming the need to understand the interconnected processes of
memorialization and forgetting in an effort to contend with the mental impact of the Genocide
and its aftermath (Errl 182). Connerton classifies seven primary types of forgetting. I will focus
here on the following three as those most pertinent: prescriptive forgetting, forgetting that is
constitutive in the formation of a new identity, and forgetting as humiliated silence.5
Prescriptive forgetting is normally used to prevent civil conflict or to move past a civil or
international conflict, but since Rwanda’s conflicts were neither resolved nor forgiven, it seems
applicable as a way that Rwandans sought to forget the Genocide and to deny the lasting legacy
of its memory. In explaining the benefits of prescriptive forgetting as practiced by the ancient
Greeks, Connerton illustrates, “Since the memory of past misdeeds threatened to sow division in
5 The remaining four include: repressive erasure, structural amnesia, forgetting as annulment, and forgetting as
planned obsolescence.These types offorgetting didn’t necessarily apply to the situations in Rwanda, as they varied
in focus of capitalism to genealogy to totalitarianism.

the whole community and could lead to civil war, they saw that not only those who were directly
threatened by motives of revenge but all those who wanted to live peacefully together in the polis
had a stake in not remembering” (61). Although such prescriptive forgetting of divisiveness may
have been useful before the Rwandan Genocide when there were already multiple signs that
conflict was evident and consistently growing, Rwanda can still benefit from this strategy by
finally uniting as one to move forward. As Schweisfurth has described, current practices in
Rwanda provide evidence of prescriptive forgetting: “There is the promotion of national rather
than ethnic identity. Few openly describe themselves as ‘Hutu’ or ‘Tutsi’ and these categories
have fallen out of favour as part of what is seen by government as a dangerous and diverse
discourse” (700). Although some may engage in forgetting or silence out of fear for the
government, the overall intention of prescriptive forgetting is positive in the case of Rwanda.
Schweisfurth makes the assumption that the goal of the country is to be seen as one, rather than
divided through the ethnicities assigned to them back in 1926 (Schweisfurth 700). This can also
be found in the regulation of certain monuments and memorials in Rwanda. Since the Rwandan
government formed the Kigali Genocide Memorial, which is the most visited memorial by
tourists in Rwanda, the government in this way effectively selected which aspects of the
Genocide to highlight and which to ignore. Through selective representation of this history,
Rwandans naturally begin to forget certain memories; some aspects are much more emphasized
than others, such as the absence of international help and protection. Though Rwandans can’t
necessarily be forced to view history a certain way, they might be encouraged or compelled to do
so. As the victims age, their perspectives on the Rwandan Genocide may change over time. Their
families may grow and they may begin to seek peace more than they do justice or retribution for
the crimes committed. Although this may serve well to strengthen communities, the disadvantage

of glossing over some of the facts of the past is that this revisionism may simultaneously weaken
the significance of the Rwandan Genocide and minimize or supplant actions taken to prevent
future conflicts. Unfortunately, for the generation directly affected by these tragedies, simply
forgetting may not be enough to close the wounds that were opened in 1994.
Forgetting can also be used to forego old identifications and to create new identities, both
on an individual and societal basis. This method is mainly rooted in knowing that memory can
sometimes be used to hurt others. By dedicating thoughts and memories to tragic events, one
may get stuck in a disastrous and negative perspective of the past (Connerton 63). Prescriptive
forgetting lies in believing that remembering something that serves no benefit to an identity or a
community is not worth it, as it prohibits members from growing or adapting to new scenarios
and environments. Connerton notes: “What is allowed to be forgotten provides living space for
present projects,” revealing certain benefits of forgoing a cluttering past (63). This method of
forgetting not only opens space for new ideas and memories, but it can also be beneficial to
newer generations. Grandparents can choose not to share aspects of the Rwandan Genocide with
their grandchildren to avoid pre-judging neighbors, teachers, and other acquaintances whose
families acted violently in 1994. This selective omission also relates to the idea of collective
memory and how it, at times, can be determined by those in power within the community. If
those in power see no value in exposing their lineages to the hateful acts of some, especially if
the country is shifting focus to more positive aspects, then they have the opportunity to exclude
that part of their familial and communal memories, as well. As propaganda was used prior to the
Genocide in order to create tension and rationalizations for crime, language was again used in
Rwanda in order to gain control post-Genocide. Teodros Kiros uses Foucault’s theory to
emphasize the significance of words: “Power speaks through language – the language of the

experts of knowledge. Power uses words, sentences and propositions to privilege certain modes
of thinking and forms of life at the expense of the demolition of others. Power uses language to
judge, to evaluate, to normalize, and to discipline the very fundamental ways by which we
perceive the world” (53). Unfortunately, Rwanda has incorporated parts of this method into its
culture, but it seems they have done so rather hastily. Because many Rwandans fled the country
during the Rwandan Genocide, many came back with new insights and new influences, mainly
from other countries, such as Tanzania and Uganda, which are former British countries
(Schweisfurth 704). Words can be used to control and force certain ideas on others, as mentioned
by Kiros, but they also present the opportunity to speak out and heal from certain experiences,
specifically through memorialization.
Although Rwanda’s goal was to create a new and positive identity where ethnic division
was not destructive, these new policies and influences led to further confusion of what it means
to be Rwandan. Schweisfurth believes there was a ‘brain drain’ when both Tutsis and Hutus fled
the country searching for safety and a way to avoid participating in the Genocide (703). Because
of this, many who did return were placed in positions of power relatively quickly, giving them
the ability to change the current government laws and strategies (704). Of course, these policies
could later be revised and improved, but this explains much of the panic that ensued in Rwanda
immediately after the Genocide. Not only was education hardly spoken about, but it seemed that
politics were disorganized, with the sole purpose of gaining some sort of control in the country.
With the loss of hundreds of thousands of people, the country lost teachers, professors,
politicians, mediators, volunteers, and numerous amounts of other people that tremendously
affected Rwanda before the Genocide. A new identity for Rwanda was absolutely necessary as a

large portion of the population, associated with the collective identity of the country, no longer
remained.
The last, and perhaps one of the most significant form of forgetting is that of humiliated
silence. Although there are some who brutally murdered others and, to this day, do not believe
they did anything wrong, it seems that the majority of the country continues to suffer the
reverberations of the trauma (Schweisfurth 699). This sense of humiliation wasn’t just felt by
perpetrators who harmed innocent people, but it was also felt by survivors who didn’t necessarily
understand why they lived over their family and friends. Kanyangara reiterates, “Regarding
survivors, their social image as people worthy of dignity and respect was considerably damaged
up to the point that they could experience guilt feelings that have no rational basis, as is often the
case among victims,” explaining that survivors tend to feel guilt just as much as perpetrators do,
if not more (403). Though the Rwandan government attempted to shift victims’ guilt to the actual
criminals through Gacaca courts, it was almost impossible to determine whether the perpetrators
were accepting responsibility and apologizing for the greater benefit of the community or for the
possibility of sentence reductions. It seemed as though neither side was ever at peace even after
trials, as Kanyangara admits, “These results support the critics who stress the limitations of
Gacaca in terms of its negative effect on survivors, especially as survivors who took part of
Gacaca were exposed only to limited and potentially insincere apologies by perpetrators” (410).
Humiliated silence – as a method of avoiding the confrontation of painful memories – does not
mean that these memories are vanquished. Without addressing the acts of the Rwandan
Genocide, many live with horrific scars of the past. It may interfere with their career paths, their
social interactions, and even relationships within their families. In part, this silence is
understandable, as Connerton argues, reaffirming that forgetting may act as its own form of

healing: “Nevertheless, some acts of silence may be an attempt to bury things beyond expression
and the reach of memory; yet such silencings, while they are a type of repression, can at the same
time be a form of survival, and the desire to forget may be an essential ingredient in that process
of survival” (68). This method was used in the reconstruction of German cities after the
Holocaust where people were constantly faced with the ruin they themselves caused. In this
sense, Rwanda is still living with the results of the Rwandan Genocide today, both mentally and
physically. Mentally, Rwandans are currently reminded of their losses by the emptiness of their
homes and the fear they sense from strangers and neighbors alike. Trust takes time to rebuild, but
an effort to rebuild it is also crucial. Physically, due to the high frequency of rape during the
Genocide, there is currently an HIV/AIDS crisis in Rwanda, with an infection rate of 5.1% for
adults and nearly 160,000 AIDS orphans (Schweisfurth 700). Because many Rwandans had very
little to no control over their circumstances during the Genocide, they are humiliated by the
violation that was brought to their bodies, their homes, their families, and their communities.
Churches and schools were no longer considered places of safety, but instead they were burial
grounds for people of all ages. Not only is it difficult to discuss the grief caused by losing loved
ones, but it’s just as difficult to explain and share the breach of comfort and safety many
Rwandans felt during and after the Rwandan Genocide.
Hauntology
We may also consider the idea of historical ghosts and hauntology when dealing with
methods of forgetting and suppressing memories, as theorist Jo Labanyi suggests. She describes
three approaches to addressing the ghosts of the past:
One can refuse to see them or shut them out, as the official discourses of the State have
always done with the various manifestations of the popular imaginary, where for good
reasons ghost stories are endemic. One can cling to them obsessively though the
pathological process of introjection that Freud called melancholia, allowing the past to

take over the present and convert it into a “living death.” Or one can offer them
habitation in order to acknowledge their presence, through the healing introjection
process that is mourning, which, for Freud, differs from melancholia in that it allows one
to lay the ghosts of the past to rest by, precisely, acknowledging them as past. (65)
There are clearly two extremes on this spectrum; one being the complete avoidance of ghosts and
the other being the obsession over their continued presence. Neither of these options are
beneficial. Ignorance may cause pent up anger and depression to come to light years after a
tragedy, while obsession can draw energy towards fear of a lingering past, taking attention away
from the future. As mentioned previously in this chapter, addressing the actual trauma and
crimes that occurred during the Rwandan Genocide is the only way to actually move past the
effects of them. If Rwandans simply ignore these traumas or try to forget them – as Connerton
notes many societies do – these ghosts will forever be in their lives, waiting until Rwandans
acknowledge and relieve them of their duty. Not only will they haunt those individuals, but they
will haunt and lurk in the shadows of the communities within Rwanda, preventing them from
resolving conflicts between the differing ethnicities. Collective memory begs Rwandans to face
their ghosts and acknowledge their presence so they can finally deal with them, instead of
allowing them to linger for multiple generations.
Labanyi also emphasizes that both survivors and perpetrators have ghosts they need to
address. She asserts, “But as ghosts, both the victims and the victors of history are a living
presence that we are forced to acknowledge” (67). The task of recognizing and accepting these
ghosts can’t be an individual effort; it needs to be a communal effort that encourages a positive
and progressive perspective on Rwanda’s horrific past. One way of addressing these ghosts is
through monuments and memorials as testaments to the events of the Rwandan Genocide. By
reminding Rwandans, as well as international communities, of the Genocide, these communities
are able to face the historical ghosts and the mental repercussions they carry – guilt, anger, grief,

misery, and so on. These acts of memory are critical to rebuilding trust and a sense of
community in Rwanda once again.
Transitional Justice
Lastly, justice needs to be considered in terms of both restoration and retribution for
Rwandans to face their actions and the crimes committed against them, as Bolocan suggests
through the Gacaca courts. She identifies the problematic goal as finding the “balance among the
victims and their families, the perpetrators of horrendous crimes who demand that they be treated
humanely and fairly, and a nation that wants to see its past acknowledged while struggling to
move forward towards durable peace and democracy,” which reiterates the struggle of choosing
a constructive future direction, without neglecting other crucial goals of the community (355).
Retribution refers to holding the perpetrators of the Rwandan Genocide accountable for their
actions, as exemplified through the Gacaca courts. Retributive justice is normally implemented
when the government feels that there was an attack on the state, such as the slaughter of almost
15% of the country (Mukashema 80). Unfortunately, this isn’t usually the most effective form of
justice simply because it is not focused on assisting victims and perpetrators in healing and
moving forward. In Rwanda, it caused almost 2 million Hutus to leave the country, fearing they
would be punished severely for their hand in the Genocide, indifferent of their contributions
(Mukashema 81). By placing Genocide leaders on trial and in jail, the Rwandan government
expected immediate peace and reconciliation. Retributive justice forgets to take into account that
humans need time and resources to properly face their ghosts and accept them to create a new
and positive sense of community.
Restorative justice, on the other hand, focuses more on the needs and health of
individuals and communities in order to move on. Bolocan informs, “Unlike retributive justice,

which considers crime primarily as an act against the state and a violation of its laws, restorative
justice views crime as a conflict between individuals that results in injury to the victims, as well
as the community and the offenders themselves” (361). This approach to restorative justice was
used as the motivation and reasoning for the Gacaca courts (361). Although instances of the
Gacaca courts did at times backfire, especially when perpetrators would lie in order to benefit
themselves, restorative justice can serve as a powerful tool in reconciliation. Facing the idea of
hauntology through memory can be seen as a form of restoration because it gives Rwandans the
ability to face the past. In this case, memorials, films, and novels that describe, analyze, and
address the Rwandan Genocide are a form of both remembering and restorative justice. In the
short term, remembering the past may open wounds and it may be painful, but in the long term,
these wounds will have the potential to heal more fully and thus will no longer linger in the lives
of individuals and their communities.
Summary Thoughts
In this chapter, I have sought to connect theories of memory and forgetting to the process
of memorialization in Rwanda post-Genocide, and to consider potential benefits and risks of
these strategies. I have also touched upon how acts of memory and memorialization relate to
Rwanda’s efforts to address the lasting effects of the Genocide through transitional justice. In
subsequent chapters, I will look at how varied approaches to memory, forgetting, and justice
have shaped specific modes of memorialization used in Rwanda after the Genocide. These
modes of memorialization include physical memorials, and also forms of cultural expression
(film, literature, youth culture), that represent and reckon with the memory of the Rwandan
Genocide and the shaping of its legacy. These memorialization methods are key to understanding
the diversity of responses post-Genocide in Rwanda and to interpreting how future tragedies can

be prevented. In the following chapter, I will look at three different memorials in Rwanda to
compare how they are viewed by differing populations and the value of these monuments
through their architecture, designs, and intended messages.

CHAPTER 2: THE IMPACT OF DIVERSE MEMORIALS IN RWANDA
Memorials play a significant role in remembering a moment in history and providing
people with a safe place to mourn, to remember, and to learn about the details of a specific time
period. In this chapter, I will be looking at the value of memorials, both conceptually and
specifically in Rwanda. In order to complete this challenge, I have chosen to look at three
distinct memorials in Rwanda: the Kigali Genocide Memorial, the Murambi Memorial Centre,
and the Ntarama Church Memorial. As emphasized in Chapter 1, memorials serve as reminders
of history, but they are also created with a specific intention through their architecture and the
particular ways that they “shape” the representation and memory of history. In this chapter, I will
be relating the theories addressed and analyzed in Chapter 1, including the types of forgetting,
transitional justice, and hauntology, to each memorial to understand how Rwandans have chosen
to represent the history of the Genocide through physical monuments and how they have chosen
for visitors to view and remember this history. In examining how and with what specific
audiences in mind these memorials have been created, I will also consider the connection
between architectural design – for example, the way individuals move through the space of the
monument and the image it projects – and reconciliation strategies.
It is important to note that the impact of memorials changes depending on who initiates
and maintains them – some are created by the government to promote a certain representation of
the past, while others are created from burial sites that naturally form over the years. While I
examine different forms of memorializing in this thesis, I chose to begin by focusing on physical
memorials because they are perhaps what we first imagine when we think about this process.
Physical memorials have the power to be immensely compelling, while providing a designated
space for both survivors and newcomers to simultaneously learn about this tragedy and properly

mourn. They also play a large role in the way survivors and visitors visualize the Rwandan
Genocide. As Nicki Hitchcott, the author of “Writing on Bones: Commemorating Genocide in
Boubacar Boris Diop’s Murambi,” suggests, “Memories can become fixed through preservation
and display and so the decision about what and how to preserve and display can also determine
what and how we remember,” which again reiterates the significance of the confluence of
physical spaces, images, and the intended message of a memorial (49).
Aspects of Memorials
Memorials act as physical locations for locals and visitors alike to come together to view
the truth of history and give remembrance to the lives of those that were lost. Most memorials
are created in order to heal communities and repair societies, but if presented poorly, the
message perceived can be vengeful and even incite a desire for revenge, rather than healing. By
focusing only on certain moments of an event, a memorial could actually alter or undermine the
significance of the event and its losses (Barsalou and Baxter). In the case of Rwanda, the
Rwandan Genocide involved numerous tragic and unthinkable acts, which is why it is difficult to
address. The current Rwandan government, for example, wants to create distance from this
troubling history, since highlighting the violence and murder may deter people from focusing on
the future. Therefore, many memorials, including the Kigali Genocide Memorial, tend to become
not just a place to remember, but a place where politics play a great role. Because of this, when
memorials are being created, each section, detail, and exhibit must be meticulously thought
through and planned. In “The Urge to Remember: The Role of Memorials in Social
Reconstruction and Transitional Justice,” Judy Barsalou and Victoria Baxter attempt to address
the various interests and messages produced by memorials:
Wittingly or unwittingly, interested parties around the world use memorial sites to seek
absolution, lodge accusations against their enemies, establish competing claims of

victimhood, or promote ideological agendas. In short, regardless of what form it takes,
memorialization is a highly political process that is shaped by those in power. In the
words of Harvey Weinstein at the University of California, Berkeley, ‘Memorials
represent a complex nexus between politics, trauma, collective memory, and public art.’
(4)
Although the view of a memorial may not match every visitor’s memories or ideas of the past, a
memorial should address the facts and emphasize the significance of the event in history. The
truth of what happened is not always agreed upon, and the meaning can be even more called into
question. Yet, without knowing or understanding why an event, such as the Rwandan Genocide,
occurred and the consequences of it, it is less likely for locals and international visitors to focus
on preventing such violence from happening again.
Memorials also have the ability to encourage reconciliation through transitional justice.
As noted in Chapter 1, transitional justice can be achieved when those that committed crimes are
held accountable for their actions and when a full account of the past has been told. As Barsalou
and Baxter suggest, “Sometimes, however, memorials are used to promote a new, multicultural
national identity after the conflict has ended and a democratic transition is under way,”
reiterating the fact that although the memorials in Rwanda all speak a level of truth, certain
aspects are left out in order to promote reconciliation (7). Even though perpetrators aren’t held
judicially or legally accountable through memorials, they can still highlight causality and
responsibility – identifying sectors that initiated mass murders and their professed beliefs and
actions. Memorials can also feature the actions taken in order to prevent these crimes from
happening again and how justice was and is still sought. For example, Rwanda tends to use the
ethnic division between Hutus and Tutsis as the main cause for the Rwandan Genocide, so by
emphasizing the changes the country has taken to avoid similar crimes, i.e. removing all ethnic

labels from society, memorials can focus on the efforts already taken for reconciliation to
motivate Rwandans further (Schweisfurth 700).
Memorials are also influential in addressing the violence that took place within a country,
between groups of people of the same culture, as it can be, at times, more complicated than
addressing an external opponent. If the perpetrator of a crime is an external force, it can be easier
to unite communities or a society to heal despite the efforts of others to break them apart.
Unfortunately, the case of an internal genocide, as in Rwanda, is more complicated as
memorialization forces civilians to actively recognize how friends, family members, and
neighbors turned on one another. As a part of moving on from the past, survivors need to tell
their stories in order to actually acknowledge the past, which can be difficult when the
perpetrators are still within close proximity and may even still agree with the horrific actions
they committed in the past (Herman 99). They also need to rebuild old relationships and create
new ones in order to improve confidence and overall societal skills, which may prove to be
challenging since some of these relationships will be with those that hurt them or their family
members (Herman 99). In terms of memorials, it is crucial that all perspectives of any civil
conflict, war, or genocide are considered, since victims, perpetrators, and bystanders may want to
visit and utilize these memorials to heal. Memorials should promote unity and reconciliation,
specifically because the survivors and future generations visiting these memorials will be the
ones influencing the future of the society.
The Importance of Architecture
Architecture can be defined as, “The style in which a building is designed or constructed,
especially with regard to a specific period, place, or culture,” which, in terms of memorials, can
include gardens, the layouts and constructed paths for visits, or the designs of certain aspects

meant to serve as reminders of things lost, among other possibilities.6 Looking specifically at
memorials involving genocide and mass killings, it becomes clear that burial sites are a crucial
aspect of their landscapes. Barsalou and Baxter assert: “Displaying or preserving human remains
becomes a central way to educate people about the sheer scope of death that occurred in a
country” (6). Memorials are meant to resonate with visitors and to lessen the distance between
those who weren’t directly affected by a certain tragedy and the lives of those who experienced
it. In the case of Rwanda, it has become difficult to name those that were lost because of the
totality of lives taken. When locals were murdered, they were normally placed in a single
location with scant or no information identifying them. Although families have come forth since
to claim the names of those they lost, in many cases, family members and friends were killed
simultaneously, meaning there’s currently no one to identify them. By showing the consequences
of genocide through burial sites and testimonies, visitors can have a physical place where they
can come together in this shared loss and history.
In this sense, architectural efforts play an immense role in all memorials as they can
influence the emotions and memories of visitors. For example, the design of the U.S. Holocaust
Memorial Museum and the way visitors move through the space are very intentional and
influential in creating the emotion of the experience (Giovanni). James Freed, the architect
behind the design, focused on making the space evoke and externalize the emotional weight and
human cost of the concentration camps during the Holocaust, utilizing similar structures,
materials, and symbols to transport visitors to a different time. He discloses, “It is not meant to
be an architectural promenade, or a walk through memory, or an exposition of emotion, but all of
this. ‘Odd,’ or ‘quiet’ is not enough. It must be intestinal, visceral; it must take you in its grip”
6 Oxford Dictionary

(Giovanni). As visitors walk in, they are given a passport of someone who lived during the
Holocaust, compelling them to journey through the museum as a witness and as a victim. The
museum is incredibly interactive as it leads visitors through various exhibits, urging them to feel
uncomfortable and confined, as victims did, and letting them reflect and participate by lighting a
candle at the end (Giovanni). On a smaller scale, the architecture and design behind the Vietnam
Veterans Memorial creates a place for both mourners and visitors to pay their respects at The
Wall, the Three Servicemen statue, and the Vietnam Women’s Memorial statue (“Vietnam
Veterans Memorial”). The Wall is placed in the middle of the Constitutions Gardens, between
the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial, containing over 58,000 names and made
of two walls that are 246 feet and 9 inches long (“Vietnam Veterans Memorial”). Placed in such
a populated area of Washington DC, visitors are surrounded by rich history, but are awakened to
the raw consequences of war and violence with this simple design. Visitors are able to come
together to acknowledge those lost during the Vietnam War, and veterans and relatives are able
to leave with pencil rubbings of the names they seek. Even the smallest details and designs are
intentional, as shown by Sarajevo Roses, architectural artifacts that memorialize the mortar shell
explosions during the Bosnian War of the 1990s. “While roses are a symbol of love and beauty,
Sarajevo Roses represent a collective memory of the physical scars of war,” which exhibits the
unique designs used to show horrific moments in history (“Sarajevo Roses – Painful War
Memories Etched in Asphalt”). Not only is the message of a memorial important, but so is the
method and architecture in creating that message.
Kigali Genocide Memorial
The Kigali Genocide Memorial lies in the heart of Rwanda and was opened in April
2004, ten years after the Rwandan Genocide. The City of Kigali provided land in 1999 and

burials began in 2001, but there are multiple organizations that played a role in establishing the
Kigali Genocide Memorial and still participate in maintaining it today. Among those
organizations are: the City of Kigali, Aegis Trust, Rwanda’s National Commission for the Fight
against Genocide, Ministry of Sports and Culture, and various government and international non-
government organizations (Kigali Genocide Memorial). The Kigali Genocide Memorial attempts
to connect each visitor to the horrific events of the Rwandan Genocide by providing the
necessary details to do so, in order to supply visitors with the ability to empathize with the locals
and reflect on how they can help to prevent such tragedies from occurring again.7 The creators of
this memorial define it as a place of reflection for victims and survivors, but also a place of
education and great critical learning for visitors.
Exhibit 1:
Not only do they view this as a remembrance of the losses from the Rwandan Genocide, but they
specifically characterize it as the Genocide against Tutsis. Though roughly 200,000 Hutus died,
both by the hands of Tutsis and Hutus alike, the emphasis lies on the Tutsi lives lost and the
ethnic divide that caused it (Barsalou and Baxter). As mentioned by Barsalou and Baxter, most
memorials are inevitably created with a political agenda, which becomes evident in Rwanda as
7 I was able to view this personally and was given an audio tour as I walked through the various exhibitions.

the current government is majority Tutsi, since the RPF took control after ending the Rwandan
Genocide. By emphasizing the Tutsi lives, the Kigali Genocide Memorial inevitably simplifies
the Genocide and glosses over the Hutu lives lost during the time. This then promotes a Tutsi (as
victim) versus Hutu (as perpetrator) mentality, which again may prove to be a problem since
these memorials are attempting to assist in healing a country from within but are singling out an
entire ethnic group. These are just some of the complications that arise when facing an internal
conflict.
The Kigali Genocide Memorial consists of three main exhibition rooms, along with an
outdoor amphitheater, burial sites, and symbolic gardens. The first exhibition, “The 1994
Genocide Against the Tutsi,” concentrates on the Rwandan society before the colonization
brought by Belgium, the articulately planned mass murders against the Tutsi, stories of survival,
and, of course, the actions taken for reconciliation post-Genocide (Kigali Genocide Memorial).
“Wasted Lives,” the second exhibition, focuses on a variety of other massacres, specifically
those not recognized as genocide by international law, such as the Armenian Genocide. This
section specifically addresses the lives lost and the lack of action taken to help those in need. Not
only is this exhibition incredibly educational for all visitors, but it compels visitors to
acknowledge that the violence Rwanda experienced is not unique historically, but one many
countries have suffered. Parts of this exhibit specifically highlight the lack of assistance from
international communities, placing some of the blame for the extent of the Rwandan Genocide
on them for not intervening when the killings began. The last exhibition is called the “Children’s
Room,” where the memorial turns its attention to the young lives lost during the Genocide
(Kigali Genocide Memorial). This is typically the last exhibition a visitor walks through before
heading to the burial sites and gardens and is normally the most heart wrenching (Exhibit 2). Not

only does it hold pictures of the infants and children lost, but it states their names, their ages,
some of their last words, and the way in which they were brutally murdered. This is an example
of architecture and design being used as a method to evoke pathos and emotional connection to
the innocent children lost in order to leave visitors with a profound impression of the immensity
of loss. Since memorials need to relate to a wide array of audiences, the Kigali Genocide
Memorial emphasizes the images of children as universal symbols of innocence, of vulnerability,
and of the future, to produce memorable emotion. On the other hand, this section also leaves
visitors with a certain hatred and/or disgust for Hutus, as they are ultimately being represented as
child killers.
Exhibit 2:
Outside, visitors will find the Gardens of Reflection, the Wall of Names, and the
Amphitheatre. In terms of design, these three elements of the memorial truly make it stand out
from others in Rwanda. The indoor exhibits are meant to educate and visualize the events of the
Genocide, while the outdoor sections are more focused on creating a personal and thoughtful
journey for the visitor. The Gardens of Reflection consist of: Gardens of Unity, Division &
Reconciliation, the Rose Gardens, the Gardens of Self Protection, the Provinces of Rwanda
Garden, the Flower of Life Garden, and the Forest of Memory (Exhibit 3). As visitors walk

through the peaceful gardens, they are given the opportunity to consider what they experienced
during the earlier, interior exhibitions. The creators of the memorial state, “[The Gardens] allow
visitors to reflect on how we all have the personal responsibility to prevent discrimination and
mass atrocity” (Kigali Genocide Memorial). The dichotomy between the interior parts of the
memorial, centering on past trauma, and the external gardens, focused on rebirth, ongoing
memory, and the power of preserving this memory on the future, constitute an intentional design.
The burial sites are accompanied by the Wall of Names, dedicated to the lives lost during the
Rwandan Genocide (Exhibit 4). Many of the bodies buried are still being identified today, but
the Kigali Genocide Memorial is the home of over 259,000 victims. They still accept more
people, along with a burial process to further reconciliation hopes. The latest addition to the
memorial is the Amphitheatre, which was constructed and opened on the 20th commemoration of
the Genocide, just under two years ago (Exhibit 5). It currently seats 1,200 and hosts multiple
memorial events, educational workshops, dramatic performances, cultural events, and even film
screenings (Kigali Genocide Memorial). This helps the memorial stay relevant within the
communities in Rwanda, as it is always adapting to new audiences and generations. The workers
at the Kigali Genocide Memorial are constantly attempting to improve their surrounding
communities, especially the lives of the victims, as exemplified through their Rebuilding Lives
Initiative with Aegis Trust. Clearly, the Kigali Genocide Memorial places great attention on
educating visitors and providing them with a place to reflect on the crimes of the Genocide.

Exhibit 3:
Exhibit 4:

Exhibit 5:
As mentioned previously, many memorials are created because of political intentions. In
Rwanda, the RPF still demand public participation in many commemoration events and
emphasize their views of the past through strict policies, such as neglecting the fact that there
were Hutu resisters that were brutally murdered along with the Tutsis (Ibreck 331). By omitting
certain facts from history, the Kigali Genocide Memorial encourages forgetting that is
constitutive in the formation of a new identity (Connerton 63). By focusing on the harm and pain
that was brought to one ethnicity only, the Rwandan government has more control over the
policies they instill and enforce. At the same time, the Kigali Genocide Memorial does confront
many facts and experiences during the Genocide with a more unifying and universal tone,
focusing mainly on the positive change Rwandans can inspire within the country by moving
away from the violent ethnic division. This also encourages a new national identity by leaving
behind the anger and the blame, which encourages reconciliation. As mentioned by Ibreck, just

because a memorial, or any memorialization method, is created for political purposes, it doesn’t
necessarily mean that the impact it can have on various societies is not positive (307).
Regardless of the political advantages of certain memorials, survivors have found that
remembrance is essential for a better future. Survivors are afraid that forgetting increases the
chance of violence occurring again (Ibreck 339). In “The Politics of Mourning: Survivor
Contributions to Memorials in Post-Genocide Rwanda,” Rachel Ibreck explores why victims of
the Genocide seek remembrance:
After the genocide in Rwanda, survivors were described as the ‘walking dead’; many felt
life had no meaning and could barely imagine the person they were before 1994. While
their lives continue to be scarred by the atrocities, a group of survivors and relatives of
the dead have devoted themselves to memorialization as an expression of their enduring
commitment to the dead and to each other. Survivors remind us that memorials are
created to mourn and honour the dead even if they are also employed politically to
promote legitimacy or nationalism. (340)
Memorials, ultimately, are not monolithic and often have more than one meaning or purpose.
The Kigali Genocide Memorial was created by political powers with their own interests in the
shaping of reconciliation as they simultaneously sought to shift focus from the ethnic division
created in Rwanda, specifically by outlawing words like “divisionism” and “genocide ideology.”
However it has also flourished as a place for education and reflection (Ibreck 330).
When analyzing memorials, it is also crucial to see how they impact the society. Not only
has the Kigali Genocide Memorial partnered with Aegis Trust for multiple initiatives, but it also
provides education to students and visiting teachers. The memorial conducts numerous teacher
training programs, preparing them for the support some students may need when learning about
the Genocide and other mass atrocities (Kigali Genocide Memorial). I also chose to look at the
comments made in the guestbook at the Kigali Genocide Memorial. In 2012, Liberata
Gahangayire and Anne Marie Nyiracumi conducted a study on the types of comments left in the

guestbook, along with who was leaving them. It was clear that the two most frequent comments
were prayers and recommendations (1451). Recommendations in this study normally revolved
around hopes for the future and spreading more knowledge and prevention throughout the world.
Looking at the most recent comments in the guestbook, it is clear that visitors are still learning
and hoping for the best outcome. A male student in Rwanda writes, “I wish all Rwandan people
could recognize their traditional unity as well as the reconciliation so that they could live longer
in the country God gave us” (Kigali Genocide Memorial). In remembering, rarely are there any
signs of anger or hatred, but instead most of the focus lies on peace and reconciliation.
Murambi Memorial Centre
The Murambi Memorial Centre was opened on May 26th, 2011, in southern Rwanda. The
Centre was built on the site of a brutal mass murder at the unfinished Murambi technical school
during the Rwandan Genocide. It was created by the National Commission for the Fight Against
Genocide and Aegis Trust, opening the second commemorative site in Rwanda where visitors
can see archives of the Genocide and learn more about it. Many other burial sites and memorials
in Rwanda are considered to be silent memorials, due to the fact that there are no guides and
limited information on the actual event. Multiple burial sites were created naturally, which
means that locals sought certain memorials and burial sites as a place to mourn and remember
their lost ones, rather than educate international visitors. Murambi Memorial Centre, on the other
hand, was created to provide more information on the Rwandan Genocide, while showing the
true consequences of the Genocide. During April 1994, roughly 50,000 Tutsis hid at a church
near the technical school, but were encouraged to hide in the classrooms and dorms of the
schools for safety. For roughly two weeks, the victims hid without food or water, but were,
unfortunately, found by the Interahamwe militia and brutally murdered. All of the corpses were

then thrown into mass graves (Briggs). These mass graves were later found by the United
Nations investigators, preserving roughly 800 bodies for the Murambi Memorial Centre.
Kenneth Harrow, author of “‘Ancient Tribal Warfare’: Foundational Fantasies of Ethnicity and
History,” explains the need for such provocative exhibits:
The narrative where what matters is not who is right, who is the real demon or victim, but
the account from which the reader cannot escape responsibility. It is the account that
refuses to leave the reader out of it: the account where the past not distanced from our
lives, and where the consequences are not over for us or for them; the account that
refuses the comfortable position of distance and of mere observation. The account that
implicated us is all that matters now – an account that not only attempts to convey what
happened, but that requires us to recognize the need for involvement and action because
we are involved already by the account itself. (40)
By providing not just an account of the Rwandan Genocide, but physical results of it, visitors are
compelled to directly confront the consequences of the Genocide, rather than distancing
themselves.
Along with the burial sites, Murambi holds various archives, as well. Photos are included,
along with an interactive GPS display of killing sites (Briggs). Multiple testimonies also bring a
unique perspective; they include Tutsi survivors, Hutu resisters (those who risked their lives to
protect others), along with the actual Hutu perpetrators that committed the crimes. Visitors are
able to see the genocide ideology that was prevalent in the country leading to the Rwandan
Genocide. They are also able to see the good in the people who did everything they could to
preserve human lives and end the Genocide. Once visitors walk through the various exhibits of
family photos and the adult and children burial sites, they face this question: “Now that you have
heard the story of Murambi, what is in your heart, and what are you moved to do?” (Briggs).
Although the Murambi Memorial Centre isn’t nearly as popular as the Kigali Genocide
Memorial, it much more viscerally and starkly demands awareness of the hundreds of thousands
of people who died during the Rwandan Genocide, while creating a call to action.

Exhibit 6:
Photographed by Jens Meierhenrich.
Exhibit 7:

Exhibit 8:
This memorial is a place for international visitors to learn more about the Genocide and face the
violence that occurs everywhere in the world. Based on online reviews, there is a crucial
importance of presenting the corpses. One visitor writes, “My heart sank, tears flooded my eyes
as I walked around the site. Before you visit, you can’t wrap your head around the magnitude of
the Genocide,” proving just how powerful a memorial can be (“Murambi Genocide Memorial
Center”). The overwhelming visual emphasis of this memorial is on the corpses, which is another

design strategy that focuses more on the physical and bodily consequences of the trauma, rather
than an exploration or explanation of its causes.
When the Murambi Memorial Centre first opened, Rwandans swarmed the site, taking
everything in (Briggs). Again, this memorial acts as a place to give the dead proper and deserved
burials. It allows Rwandans to commemorate the Rwandan Genocide in a memorial that is less
crowded with international visitors than the Kigali Genocide Memorial. By visiting this
memorial, Rwandans are facing their horrifying past and, hopefully, avoiding the risks of
repressing the past that Labanyi has described as “hauntology.” Jo Labanyi emphasizes the
dependence some survivors have on memories attached to physical locations, such as memorials,
but she also sees value in giving a space where the “living dead” can be remembered (66). By
giving a voice to the ghosts that may haunt Rwandans, they are giving them a place to leave their
legacy and make a difference in Rwanda. Similarly, Julian Bonder writes, “Instead of a form, a
shape, or an image, monumentality may well be a quality: the quality that some places or objects
have to make us recall, evoke, think, and perceive something beyond themselves,” underscoring
the powerful role of memorials as symbolic systems (64). On the other hand, it should be noted
that the Murambi Memorial Centre is not exempt from being led by a political agenda. Hitchcott
admits, “At first, some Rwandans felt that the victims deserved a decent burial and that it was
unacceptable to put corpses on display in this way; others, including the RPF government, were
committed to exhibiting the bones in order to resist revisionism and prevent future violence”
(50). These examples demonstrate how individuals with power to do so can influence and even
intervene in the shaping of memorial messages and purposes (51). Though their intent is to
prevent hatred and crime from occurring again, they may not always be representing the
communities of Rwanda as best or as honestly as they could. Nevertheless, the Murambi

Memorial Centre creates a place where Rwandans can come together to mourn the loss of a
collective memory and past, ultimately, bringing communities together to further reconciliation.
Ntarama Church
I also wanted to look at a memorial that was created more organically and wasn’t as
promotional as the others in Rwanda, which is why I chose to research Ntarama Church.
Specifically, I wanted to look at how places frequently considered “safe”, or as sanctuaries, such
as churches and schools, were impacted during the Genocide and how they are currently
remembered. On April 11th, 1994, the Interahamwe militia began killings in the neighboring
towns of the Ntarama Church. Many Tutsis, with their families, ran to church compounds, in
hopes that God would protect them (“The Ntarama Church Massacre”). Once the militia found
them, they surrounded the church and began throwing grenades. The men and women hiding
threw rocks to slow them down, but thousands were slaughtered. The only survivors were forced
to abandon the church and run for the bushes and the mud, hiding with very little food or water
for the next month (“The Ntarama Church Massacre”). As with most other victims, those killed
at Ntarama Church were thrown into unidentified mass graves. The church today acts as a
memorial for those who died at the church. Many of the survivors of the Ntarama Church
massacres have the majority of their extended families buried there. While the bodies have been
preserved and displayed in a respectful manner, the church and its outhouses remain very much
the same as the day it was attacked and destroyed (Gwin).
As visitors walk through the church, they learn the story of the Genocide and the
massacre at Ntarama Church solely through sight and without any actual words. There are
roughly 5,000 corpses left in the church today (Gwin). The clothes of many of the victims lay in
neat piles beside them, ripped and covered in blood. The back of the church contains skulls and

bones, revealing a plethora of head wounds and cracked skulls (Caplan 21). Some of the
weapons used by the perpetrators lay by the altar of the church. Just as was evident with the
Murambi Memorial Centre, these scenes are difficult to stomach, but are as equally difficult to
ignore. Of course, these scenes are much harder for Rwandans to face. Bellancilla Uwitonze, a
guide at the Ntarama Church, was only 14 years old when the Genocide began. She admits, “It is
very difficult to relive the Genocide every day. I do it because young people must know what
happened and that they can never let anyone divide us as Rwandans ever again” (Gwin).
Although it might seem counterproductive to focus on the Genocide day in and day out, the
younger generations need to be informed of the past in order to prevent it from happening again,
as the guide mentions. By sharing her knowledge with younger generations, she is able to build
and improve the collective memory she shares with them and the rest of the country. Instead of
simply reacting to the Rwandan Genocide, letting her ghosts possess her, she responds in a
productive and impactful manner. The architecture is simpler here compared to the other two
memorials discussed in this chapter. The design of the space is used to speak directly to the
visitors, as the memorial relies on real scenes and consequences to showcase the events of the
Genocide.

Exhibit 9:
Photographed by National Geographic.
Exhibit 10:

Exhibit 11:
The main goal of the Ntarama Church is remembrance. As Rwandans visit the church,
they are able to revive their individual memory of the Rwandan Genocide. By confronting the
ghosts of their pasts, they are able to make room in their lives and in their memories to move
forward. The fear with visiting memorial sites is one shared with Jo Labanyi: one can ignore the
ghosts of his or her past or he or she can obsess over them (Labanyi 70). By visiting the
memorial, locals should be able to commemorate the Rwandan Genocide, visit their loved ones,
and use it for a sense of closure for the pain that was brought to them and their families. As more
and more people visit this memorial, along with other equally important memorials, the more
cultural memory expands and builds hope for reconciliation and peace. It is crucial for locals to
feel as though these memorials are a place for them, not just international visitors. Barsalou and

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