Human Rights Reporting
Spring 2003 Student Work
© 2003 by Piya Kocher
The Long Journey to Peace: A true fairy tale of love in the time of Rwanda's genocide - complete with magic beans
By Piya Kochhar
It is a Sunday afternoon. After months of snow, the sun has finally
come out. Pierre and Martha Musibymana leave their door open and
their four children-Victor, Lillian, Anna and Peace-tumble in
and out of the house playing with a blue jump rope. The Musibymanas
live among a row of compact town houses in Trenton, New Jersey.
As their children play, and their neighbors wave hello, the Musibymanas
sit on a worn yellow sofa and tell the story of the journey they
took to arrive at this moment.
It is a love story. It begins in Rwanda.
In 1986, Martha was 16 years old and Pierre was 18. She was a
Hutu, with a beautiful round face and shining black skin. He was
considered a Tutsi, with sharp features and sparkling golden-brown
eyes. They both attended the John Wesley Institute, a 14-year-long
comprehensive education program for superior students.
It was here, after school, that Pierre handed Martha a letter.
In it, he asked her permission to love her. He said he would like
to marry her. The two had known each other since they were 12,
each aware of the other vaguely as they played in school or in
their small town. "There is no way to say how you fall in
love," says Pierre. "You just find yourself in love
with each other." Martha nods her head, "In my country,
love stories begin in the middle. There is no beginning or ending."
She pauses for a moment and smiles; "I kept that letter for
a long time, like you keep a penny."
That love letter, like much of their life from these early years,
was lost in the hard times to follow. Almost overnight, Pierre
and Martha saw their country tumble into chaos. Till this day
they talk about the political upheaval with bewilderment, as though
they are still unsure how all this happened.
But in 1986 Pierre and Martha had no idea of what was to come.
They both were finishing their education and their courtship consisted
of writing long letters to each other. Finally, at the age of
24 and 26, the two married on June 24, 1993. Soon after, Rwanda
changed almost overnight.
Suddenly Pierre found himself an enemy in his own country. He
had to hide to save his life; running away from the town he had
grown up in, leaving behind the woman he loved. "The Hutus
and Tutsis loved each other; we went to the same schools, our
parents were friends. Then suddenly because the politicians declared
it, there was hatred. We were enemies. It is hard to explain this
to those who didn't live it. The hatred was created. It was not
something that existed. We lived together in peace for 30 years
… then how is it that suddenly over one night because somebody
declared it, everybody had to die?" The year was 1994; the
year that a growing division between Hutus and Tutsis reached
its violent climax.
Under President Juvenal Habyarimana, the Rwandan government began
to systematically exploit divisions between Hutus and Tutsis as
a way for the Rwandan leader to gain political strength. The president,
a Hutu, began his hatred campaign in 1990, and created a youth
army called the Interahamwe in 1992. A report by Human Rights
Watch states, "But shattering bonds between Hutus and Tutsis
was not easy. For centuries they had shared a single language,
a common history, the same ideas and cultural practices. They
lived next to one another, attended the same schools and churches,
worked in the same offices, and drank in the same bars …"
But by systematically launching attacks and spreading hate-inducing
propaganda, Habyarimana was able to significantly widen the divisions
between Hutu and Tutsi. All of this climaxed on April 6, 1994,
when Habyarimana's plane was shot down above Kigali airport and
he was killed. Within hours a campaign of violence had spread
from the city throughout the country. Even though it was never
determined who shot down Habyarimana's plane, Hutu leaders were
determined to slaughter massive numbers of Tutsi and Hutus opposed
to Habyarimana's regime. In total, an estimated 800,000 Tutsis
and moderate Hutus were killed in the three-month-long genocide,
and even more Rwandans were killed in the violence that continued
for months afterwards. Despite the upheaval, the U.N. Security
Council did not order its peacekeepers to try and stop the violence.
Martha remembers this time. The couple had a 1-year-old son, Victor,
and she was pregnant with their second child, Lillian. She remembers
the terror she'd feel at night. "I was young. We had just
got married. And now, suddenly, I did not know where my husband
was, whether he was alive. I thought about my children, about
our future. I was terrified."
Martha spent her days looking for her husband, who had fled to
the forests and swamps for safety. She would ask travelers if
they'd heard of Pierre, she would pray, she would wander to nearby
townships. Slowly her own town became deserted as people fled
for safety. Finally, Martha decided to leave her family and go
look for Pierre.
She remembers taking a few clothes, picking up her son and her
newly born daughter, and at the last moment grabbing a handful
of beans. "They have no name," says Martha of the beans.
"They were yellow, white, and red. I wanted to take them
with me so I would always have something that was mine, something
from my country. Understand, at that moment I did not know what
the future was. I was leaving behind my home."
Martha found herself at the Rwandan border. Here, thousands of
Rwandans had gathered to seek refuge in nearby countries. There
were ships sailing to Zambia, and people were waiting to sneak
on board. It was here, among the crowd, that she saw Pierre after
nearly a year of not knowing whether he was alive or dead. She
walked up to him and handed him the beans. He put them in his
pocket. It was July 1995.
The couple did not sail that day. Instead, they received shelter
with a Congolese family that lived near the border. "We will
never forget their kindness," says Pierre.
The couple stayed with the family for a month. Then one night
they got a chance to be smuggled aboard a ship sailing to Zambia,
through connections the Congolese family had. Neither Pierre nor
Martha had tickets. Thousands of people were on board, sitting
in rows of plastic seats. "We had barely any money,"
says Martha. "We were carrying only one suitcase," recalls
Pierre.
The journey was for two days and two nights. The couple had no
idea what they would do once they reached Zambia. Neither had
visas, and they knew that if the immigration officers caught them
they would be sent back to Rwanda. And in Rwanda, both knew that
they could not remain together under current political circumstances.
"I had my head in my hand, rubbing and rubbing trying to
think of a solution. We were expecting the worst at the end of
this journey," Pierre said.
As the ship got nearer to Zambia, and stories of families detained,
imprisoned or separated at the immigration check-post surfaced,
Pierre and Martha decided they had taken a foolish risk getting
on the ship. They decided to sail back to Rwanda and try escaping
some other time when they had the right papers. Pierre paid most
of the little money the couple had, about $20, to a man on a canoe.
The canoe would take the couple back to Rwanda, before the ship
docked in Zambia.
"We were so confused," remembers Martha. "We just
wanted our family to remain together. At that time so many families
were separated, lost to each other. All we had was this family,
and we didn't want to lose it."
In the confusion of getting onto the canoe, their son, Victor
got left behind on the ship. "That was the worst moment,"
recalls Pierre. Martha adds, "I looked up and saw Victor
on the railing, and the ship was sailing away, he was becoming
smaller and smaller." The couple didn't know what to do,
so they bent down and began to pray. As luck would have it the
big ship suddenly stopped moving forward. Some engine difficulty
kept it moored for about 30 minutes. Martha and Pierre told the
canoe sailor to take them back to the ship, and paid him the last
of their money. "Our journey has been filled with little
miracles," says Pierre. "There are so many moments we
were saved and I don't know how. I really don't know how."
In a daze the couple were carried back up to the ship and reunited
with their son. But now they faced the problem of the immigration
port in Zambia. What were they to do? "And this was the second
miracle of our journey," says Pierre with a chuckle. Martha
nods her head in wonder at his words. Two Tanzanian men, whose
names Pierre and Martha never found out, came up to the couple.
The men spoke Swahili, and Pierre and Martha spoke broken English.
Through sign language and bits of English they managed to communicate
with each other. The Tanzanian men told Pierre and Martha not
to worry. They would help the couple. They had seen what the couple
had gone through to reunite with their son, and they said they
would make sure the family would remain united.
The two men disappeared into the ship and when they returned they
handed Martha and Pierre tickets. They took no money from the
couple. When the ship arrived in Zambia they took the couple's
suitcase and motioned for them to follow. "We had no idea
what was happening, or what would happen," says Pierre. "But
we had no other alternative but to trust these men. To trust they
would keep us together."
That trust was not misplaced. The Tanzanian men motioned for Pierre
and Martha to stand aside as they went through the immigration
check post. Pierre and Martha watched from afar while Zambian
police officers searched the suitcases and spoke with the two
men. When the police officers found Rwandan papers in the suitcases
they became suspicious and asked the Tanzanian men why they had
them. "I think the men told the police-officers that by mistake
they had picked up the wrong suitcases in the ship," guesses
Pierre. Martha adds, "The policemen started beating up the
two men and we were watching on the side not knowing what would
happen."
What happened next has remained a mystery to both Pierre and Martha
ever since. Soon after being beaten by the police, the two men
motioned to Pierre and Martha and the two followed. "We were
amazed," recalls Pierre. "We just walked right through
the immigration post and no one stopped us." Martha tries
to make sense of the moment in hindsight: "I think those
two men would often sail between Rwanda and Zambia. I think they
knew the immigration post and officers well. Maybe that's how
they knew how to save our family." She pauses for a moment
and says softly, "I can never forget them. I got back my
child, my son … my family."
Because Pierre and Martha had no money left, they gave the two
men their suitcase as thanks. And the two Tanzanian men disappeared
into the crowd. But now the couple faced another challenge. The
nearest town was Lusaka, but that involved a day and night long
bus journey. But neither Pierre nor Martha had any money. It was
at that moment that the couple chanced upon another miracle, as
they call it. Pierre recognized an old friend, Jean Paul, passing
by. Pierre's friend had not been as lucky as the couple. While
his wife had managed to escape the immigration post to Lusaka,
he had been detained and was waiting to be deported to Rwanda.
When he heard Pierre and Martha's story he used his own money
to buy them tickets for the bus. "I tried to find Jean Paul
after that, but never knew what became of him," says Pierre.
Martha adds, "So many people were lost. We lost so many friends
and family."
Pierre and Martha stayed at Lusaka for one month. This was the
hardest part of their journey, both say. Here they had no money,
they did not speak the language, and they could find barely any
work. So they soon moved to a United Nations-run refugee camp
in the Zambian bush.
"We were the first Rwandan couple to arrive at the camp,"
says Pierre. At that point the camp consisted of a number of huts.
Most of the refugees there were Angolans, who had been kicked
out of Angola by a Rwandan political party. "So they hated
us, especially me because I was a Rwandan man," says Pierre.
Soon the camp filled up with even more Rwandans, but they separated
into groups of Hutus and Tutsis. For the first time in their life,
Pierre and Martha experienced discrimination because of their
mixed-tribe marriage. "We would receive hate letters,"
says Pierre. "Some people in the camp would try to break
up our marriage," says Martha.
Pierre realized a lot of this hate and conflict was based on hunger
and deprivation. "When people are in need, conflict arises,"
says Pierre. At the camp, the growing number of refugees were
fighting over limited resources. He got an idea. What if the camp
produced its own rations?
Pierre and Martha began the agricultural program at the camp,
a program that would grow until it sustained and fed all the refugees
in the camp and even began producing for the nearby townships
of Lusaka. When Pierre and Martha arrived at the camp near the
end of 1995, there were 30,000 refugees and the camp was almost
entirely dependent on U.N. rations. By the time the couple left
in 2000, the camp had grown to 50,000 refugees … but it was
40 percent self-sufficient and that has improved over the years.
The entire agricultural program that would go on to transform
this camp began with a handful of Rwandan beans.
"They were the climber beans," says Pierre. "The
type that grow up to the sky." Martha was pregnant with Anna
by this time. But she would go out to their small patch of land
and sow the beans. She remembers the first crop. "I was so
happy," says Martha. "I just stood and saw the small
green plants growing up and up and up." From their first
crop, Martha cooked a few of the beans and saved another handful
for the second harvest.
Soon their beans multiplied. "From one kilogram to 100 kilograms,
from 100 kilograms to 100 tons," says Pierre with pride.
Other refugees in the camp began to help. Soon they expanded to
growing rice as well. After that, Pierre realized if they created
an irrigation system they would no longer have to be dependent
on rain or afraid of droughts. "We were making peace through
self-reliance," says Pierre.
It was at this time that Sister Pilar from the Jesuit Missionary
Refugee Service of New York came to Zambia. She was a kindred
soul to the couple. Pierre had been having trouble getting some
of his ideas about starting an irrigation system off the ground.
Sister Pilar not only provided support for his ideas, but she
also helped Pierre obtain funding and tools. "She was unquestioning
in her support," says Pierre. "If we needed shovels
she would arrange for them."
Sister Pilar also shares fond memories of the couple. "What
I remember most about them was their respect for each other,"
says Sister Pilar. "In African cultures often the men are
quite chauvinistic, but Martha and Pierre were a team. They made
their decisions equally and together. And they had such hope,
such enthusiasm for everything they did."
Sister Pilar remembers one concern the couple shared. "Some
of the families in the camp had been there for three generations
… and I remember Martha telling me she did not want her children
to grow up as refugees. She wanted them to have a home."
In 1999 the couple learned of a U.S. Repatriation law that allowed
mixed-tribe Rwandan families to apply for asylum in the United
States. The couple applied and received asylum the next year.
By this time they had three children -- Victor, Lillian, and Anna.
For their first three months in the United States they received
shelter at the Jesuit Missionary Refugee Service in New Jersey.
Sister Pilar helped them find a home and jobs. Martha gave birth
to their youngest child, Peace. "We named her Peace because
she was born here," says Pierre. "This is the only country
where we can live in peace. And we have hope that one day our
country will have peace also."
After arriving in the United States Martha tried to locate her
parents and siblings from Rwanda. She wrote letters to the Red
Cross and to the United Nations for a long time. "But I think
they are lost to me," she says quietly. "It was the
price we paid for this family to remain together."
Today the couple lives in a suburb in Trenton, New Jersey. Their
children go to Grant's elementary school nearby. Pierre is studying
to become a nurse at a community college, and Martha is receiving
a four-year college education. Their children do not recall the
journey they took to bring their family to this peaceful suburb.
"Victor knows he was once left on a ship," laughs Martha.
"But he doesn't know why. One day when he is older I will
tell him what his parents went through to bring him to this country.
To give him this life."
Pierre nods and adds, "This is a love story. It is a story
filled with the love and kindness of strangers. So many times
in our journey we were helped by strangers. It made me realize
that you don't have to be a special person to make peace or to
make a life change -- there is no special person who is given
that role. It belongs to each one of us. Each person can save
a life, can make a difference."
Even though Pierre and Martha lost many things along the way --
stacks of love letters, family, friends, their house -- Martha
still keeps one thing from her old life. In her kitchen is a small
jar, and inside this jar is a handful of Rwandan climber beans.