Genocide Story Told To Eureka High Students

While it is more than challenging to explain to others what it is like to escape the genocide of more than a million of one's own people, that's exactly the story Dan Rugomba shared with language arts sophomores during this semester. His soft-spoken voice filled every inch of the school's auditorium with powerful messages of lessons learned.

It was a sobering but eye-opening speaker engagement, one unlike U.S. students rarely get the chance to witness.

Rugomba is one of several African refugees living in the St. Louis metropolitan area. "Education is the key to peace," said this young man, who on an ill-fated day had to run for his life without looking back at the parents who stayed behind blocking doors and trying to give a last desperate chance of life to their five children.

Between April and June 1994, an estimated 800,000 Rwandans were killed within that 100 days. According to news reports, most of the dead were Tutsis and most of those who perpetrated the violence were Hutus. Rugomba's family were Tutsis.

Rugomba inadvertently ended up in the heart of violence as a child, and escaped wave after wave of danger, until one day when his family could no longer outrun the attacks. He was invited to share his survivorship accounting by Eureka High language arts teacher Mark Mosley. The Eureka High PTO provided a $100 stipend to Rugomba, which he, in turn, donated to the African Genocide Reconciliation program, which supports orphaned children in the Congo to access education. He said it takes only $100 to send one child to school for an entire school year.

Mosley said Eureka students watched the movie Hotel Rwanda, which is a 2004 drama about the crisis and that sparked further interest in this topic. The movie and associated student questions led Mosely to reach out to Rugomba, who he had seen on TV regarding his journey to freedom.

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and a privilege to listen to what happened in the Congo," said Mosley.

He said the number of lives lost in Africa during 1994 was the largest toll since World War II.

"It seems this speaker has gone through more than anyone ever will," said Tyler Heitmann, a sophomore in attendance.

Following is a synopsis of the highly personal and graphic survivor story Rugomba shared with Eureka students.

The 20-year-old was born in a small village in Africa, the oldest of five children, with two brothers and two sisters. There came a day, after surviving numerous Rebel attacks, where there was "no second chance to rethink strategies." It was about grabbing and moving.

"It all led up to one day of running for my life, without looking back, and it was the last time I saw my family," said Rugomba.

He remembers all the trouble started with a day in 2004 when he noticed something was wrong with their family's cow. He said when he was growing up, cows were more like pets, similar to the association people generally have with dogs in the United States. "It was my job to care for her; very early one morning, she was limping. I woke up my father to look at her. He just stared and didn't speak," he said. "I was confused and wanted an immediate answer."

Because the cow had been hit by schrapnel, Rugomba's parents made the decision that a life or death situation was unfolding.

"We grabbed what we could carry. Our neighbors had a big truck that we got in. As we were leaving, our house got bombed down," he said.

Rugomba said he believed if he had not checked on the cow early that morning, he would not be here now to tell the story.

"It's in indescribable thing when someone wants to finish you, and erase you from history," he said.

"My anger and pain was growing. I kept questioning why this was happening. For a second, I felt unlucky to be born a Tutsi. When you are chased from your own home, where could we run?"

At first, he said they relocated to a remote area of Africa, where they thought it was going to be more peaceful. "But the government troops found us where we were, and paraded us into a straight line. They threatened us with a big stick. I kept wondering:  Why us? Why are we being hunted? Why are we being killed for who we are, not what we've done?"

Rugomba said his grandfather pleaded with the Rebel soldiers to not torture the children among their family. "A soldier yelled, 'Who gave you permission to speak?' And he beat my grandfather right in front of us, until he broke his knees."

"It broke my heart. I felt so little and helpless in this situation," said Rugomba. "We skipped death by a minute."

He said the soldiers' attack was interrupted by someone who came running, talking about the need to respond to an emergency. "But they took my grandfather with them, while the other 11 of us were freed. We never saw my grandfather again after that."

For the days that followed these circumstances, Rugomba said if he slept at all, it was with the understanding that one could not be sure if one would wake up again alive. "We considered it a miracle to make it to the next day."

His family kept having to try moving to place after place, hoping that the next was going to finally be safer.

Two months after they left their original home, he said they were shocked to see on a local TV news that their "auntie" had been a victim of genocide. She, along with 165 others, had been killed in a span of two hours.

"I felt the world had turned against us and against me," said Rugomba.

He said he then lost his family completely during February 2007. "It was 5 a.m. and all of us were asleep in a makeshift house. Dad was the first to wake up, and he saw acres of a large crowd advancing from a distance. Voices were getting closer and closer. They were yelling: 'This is the day given to us, to kill every one, even small kids,'" he said.

"Dad woke us all up and moved us to the living room," he said. "There were two doors within sight from there—the main one in front and a smaller one to the side of the kitchen. With our hands together, he said: 'My dear wife and children, I have been able to help our family move from similar situations, but we all surrounded this time. I'm not ready to watch any of you to die before my eyes.'"

"With tears rolling down our cheeks, he continued: 'If one day we shall meet again, if not, then we will meet in the next life. Your mother and I will remain behind to hold the door. I want everyone else to leave through the kitchen.'"

Rugomba said as the oldest of the children, he felt responsible for the others. "I thought at least we were all going to die together," he said.

"But I really don't know what happened after we left our parents behind. As you came out into the open, there were so many people running in different directions. Grenades were going off all around us. Bombs exploded. We couldn't know the direction to take. That was my last memory because I was knocked unconscious," he said.

"I don't know what happened to my brothers and sisters, and I've not seen them again. I never saw my parents again either. It's painful to go through this, but if I cling to the sorrow and grief, it will destroy me even more."

Rugomba said eventually his heart was consumed with the desire to forgive.

He eventually hitched a ride with a truck driver, who took him to Kenya. He hid to get through the border patrols, and passed through two countries due to the experience of the driver to handle such a situation.

Rugomba was 16 years old by the time he got to Kenya. He said it was hard to be in a new country, with a new culture, all on his own, but he made his way to a United Nations refugee camp. "Someone gave me a book that was written in my own language, and that's when forgiveness started taking a part of me," he said.

By December 2006, Rugomba was moved to New York City. He had challenges with getting settled, however, because he had no paperwork to demonstrate what grade level he had accomplished in school. After five months there, he joined refugees who were heading to St. Louis. He ended up attending St. Mary's High School. "One by one, I had things to be thankful for," he said.

"I wake up each day believing that my family and I will meet again," he said.

He now focuses on raising funds to send other African children to school.

Because of what Rugomba went through, he also organized a Memorial Day for Genocide Survivors in 2010. He expected 250 people last year, but he said the St. Louis community supported the effort and more than 400 survivors came to commemorate the day.

"My parents taught me that no matter how tough life gets, no matter how much darkness you feel is around you, there's always a little bit of light in the distance. Fix your eyes on that little bit of light," he said.

Editor's Note:  Dan Rugomba's story of survival under conditions of lack of freedom is especially meaningful at a time, such as Memorial Day, when we Americans remember those who fought and continue to fight to ensure we have the freedom to live and work safely in places of our own choices.