Category: Blog

Back in 2012, I travelled to Rubavu with a friend from the US who kept referring to what is now Rubavu district as Gisenyi. He had read so many books on Rwanda and that name stuck in his head. He made me walk thousands of kilometres and wanted us to even try the Congo-Nil trail, but I was too exhausted that my feet were hurting. I didn’t know why he was so hyped about it. I had carried my first brand new camera, but I was too shy to take any photos. Everyone was staring at us, so I thought, but they were only looking at him. I was almost invisible and could have taken tons of photos but couldn’t. I feared my own camera. I was wondering if I had what it takes to be a photographer.

On the way to Rubavu, I tried to read the camera user manual, but I didn’t understand a thing. After going through two to three pages, I gave up. The only thing I kept from the manual was a quote stating that “Using a manual mode in photography is like driving a car. Manual mode gives you total control.”

We came back from the long hike and sat down at a bar overlooking over Lake Kivu. My friend ordered for Isambaza and I ordered some beef brochette. As we waited for our orders, which took time to be ready, my friend talked about the history of native Americans. The more he spoke, I realized I knew nothing about the world. While I was asking questions about the Apaches and Navajo; names I had heard in some of the old western American movies I used to watch while growing up, my friend was offended as he was of Native American descent. He knew so much about my country and I felt ashamed of the little information I had about Native Americans, and I promised myself I was going to read about American history.

I started thinking about my life with regret, a small voice told me “maybe if you read a lot of books, your English would be good, and you would be able to understand photography books.” I was manipulating the camera at the same time, trying to figure out the manual mode, then suddenly, I saw the fishing boats, the view was magical I tried to take a shot. The first photo was blurry. I made two more trials, after getting up from my seat, I didn’t want to miss that magical moment. I took the photo, my first focused photo. I had tears of happiness in my eyes. I showed the captured moment on the camera screen to my friend, “I would buy this photo”, he screamed!

Finally, our orders came. I couldn’t stand the smell of the small fish, but I tried one, and it was so delicious!

My name is Olive Uzayisenga, I had my first child, Marcelline when I was 20 years old. The midwife immediately noticed that she had albinism after she was born.  

sI and my husband were baffled as a young couple and first-time parents. We didn’t know what to do. It’s only my mother would visit us; my other relatives never came to visit. My in-laws were mad at me saying it is my fault. The situation got worse when I had my second daughter, Fiona, she was also albino. My father-in-law would tell my husband that he was going to get him another wife. One day, our house was attacked, and the burglars tried to dig a wall in the children’s bedroom. When I heard people saying they were trying to steal my oldest daughter and sell her to buyers in Congo, where it is said that there is market for human body parts. We immediately called the Police. They sent some agents to protect us for only a week, when they left, we moved in this neighbourhood.

The neighbours would visit me just to get a glimpse of my kids and they would joke about them in front of me. Until today, I can’t even defend my daughters when people make fun of them because I don’t want any problem with people. I must keep peace with my neighbours, because we can’t afford to move all the time. The other kids fear to play with my daughters, so for now, I make sure they play inside the house. It is good for their skin anyways. My husband is great to me, he loves God, she is the head of a charismatic group at our church, he also treats us well.  However, I am scared to have other kids, what if we have another albino child. My oldest daughter is now enrolled in a school for children with disabilities and I can’t wait for Marcelline, my last born, to also go to school so I can also start a small business.

I was on photography assignment in the South of the country, near the Rwandan border with Burundi for a community peacebuilding campaign. The people there looked very sad and pensive. On the way to the playground where the meeting took place, I noticed some destroyed houses, they had probably been demolished during the Genocide against the Tutsi. It started raining abruptly and people ran everywhere to seek shelter. I first took shelter in front of a house, but the wind was so strong, I followed some villagers who were running towards what looked like an abandoned school. As I was rushing along, I reflected on how it was during the Genocide and how some people used to take shelter in churches and schools, for some reason I started to think about the people that survived and how they are feeling today.

I was walking fast and tried to protect my camera from getting wet and a man came running towards me and offered to walk me under an umbrella he was holding and ushered me towards the school. I thanked him and went towards the children that were playing and started to take some photos. A group of journalists who were discussing among themselves told me to move away from them as my camera had attracted hundreds of kids to where we were standing.

As I was heading to a quieter place in the room, which I found out later was an abandoned church, I saw the man that had helped me; I smiled at him and he approached me. I asked him what the name of that village was, he said “Magi” in English it means eggs. I started to laugh about the name, and I asked him if he was a farmer and he said no. He said,” I recently got my first job in 13 years, in fact, I got paid today”. I jokingly asked him “Wow, what is the first thing you are going to buy?” He said, “I am going to buy my first mattress and clothes for my kids”. He added,” I was in prison for 13 years. I was released six months ago”. I asked him why he was in prison and he told me about his life. He was in the seminary but couldn’t become a priest. Right before the Genocide, he went back to his hometown, got married and even got a job at the District. During the Genocide, he would follow everywhere the people that were killing Tutsi families. He went to prison for people that were killed on a roadblock mounted near his house. When I asked him if killed anyone, he said that he never killed anyone and added that he also never tried to save anyone.

According to him, he feared to look like a Tutsi ally if he tried to save them. He said that if he could turn back time, he would have saved some people or at least say something. His greatest regret is how his actions affected his kids, they now live with shame, everyone at their school knows that their dad took part in the Genocide and talk about them. He said that he currently resides in the same neighbourhood where he lived during the killings and every day, he sees the families of the people he saw being massacred in 1994.

Every day is a reminder of what he did and understands why some people wouldn’t say hi to him but also grateful to those who approached him to say they had forgiven him.
He was also thankful that he could get a job at an irrigation project that designs and constructs terraces.

He and his wife slept on the floor after he was released from prison, they couldn’t afford a mattress but now he has a brand new one. He had also paid school fees and bought few clothes for his wife and kids. By the time we’re talking, the money had finished. But still he felt the difference because he knew that there would be money coming in at the end of the month. He let me take his photo, he never asked my name and I forgot to ask his. I decided to call him the man from Magi. When the rain had stopped and we went our separate ways, I could not help but feel sorry for him.

My name is Belina Nyirahabimana. I am 43 years old. I had a lot of love from my parents growing up. Our neighbours were so mean to me. They would laugh at me, call me names but my father was always there to protect me and told off any person who would say unkind words to me. I dropped out of school in Primary five because I had trouble seeing on the blackboard, I was scared to ask for a front seat.

The teacher didn’t really understand that I had a problem. Also, I didn’t want the other kids to look at me. I got married very young, but my husband went to jail for Genocide.  When he finished serving his sentence he came back home. However, he would return home drunk every day from his errands and was very abusive. He would beat me and insult me all the time. I left my husband and went to live with my relatives. I have seven kids, so it was hard to live in somebody else’s home and be fed on top of that.  At some point, I decided to move into a house that I inherited from my father. It was on almost collapsing but me and my kids moved into one of the rooms. The roof was leaking and it was difficult during rainy seasons. I saved some money and with the help of some neighbours who had seen me struggle, I was able to renovate the house.

It took us years, but it was worth it. I am thankful to the people that supported me. People never call me by my real name, they call me names every day, like an alien.  I have learnt to control my emotions and how I react to people’s comments. I stopped taking it personally, I don’t think they hate me, I think they are just ignorant. I even laugh at them all the time. Even the person I consider my best friend never calls me by my name, she calls me “Muzungu” and I don’t see the point in getting angry at her. I am just focused on bringing up my children.

When Non-Governmental Organizations that care for people with disabilities supported me to do vocational trainings, my neighbours wished they had children with albinism to get some financial help. They don’t understand how difficult it is to be an albino. How can I be mad at people who think like that?