Living Peace 11: Letters of Wars and Peace

We were a family that hailed from the beautiful country of Rwanda. Our heritage was steeped in rich history and deep-rooted traditions, descended from a long line of royalty. Growing up, we were instilled with a strong sense of pride in our heritage and a deep respect for our people. We were taught the importance of our roots, and the value of family and community. Life in our homeland was peaceful, and we cherished the beauty of our country, surrounded by rolling hills and fertile lands. We had everything we needed, and life seemed full of promise. However, that peace was violently shattered in the 1960s when a brutal war broke out between the Hutu and Tutsi tribes.

The conflict between the two tribes had been simmering for years, fueled by long-standing tensions, political rivalries, and systemic inequalities. Although there had been sporadic violence in the past, nothing could have prepared us for the full-scale war that erupted. The country was torn apart as violence escalated, and we witnessed the devastating impact it had on our beloved homeland. Villages were destroyed, and innocent lives were lost in senseless acts of brutality. The peaceful life we once knew seemed impossible to return to, and the once-thriving communities were reduced to rubble.

But everything changed one fateful evening. Unknown attackers descended upon our village with frightening speed and ferocity. Armed with pangas, spears, and other weapons, they mercilessly attacked our family, leaving destruction and terror in their wake. The brutal assault left us with no place to call home and no sense of safety. Our once peaceful village was now a battleground, and we were left to pick up the pieces of a life shattered by violence.

With no means of sustenance and no safe place to go, our family was forced to struggle just to survive. Food was scarce, and the water we found was contaminated, making it even more difficult to stay alive. Each day brought new threats, and we had no way of knowing when the next attack would come. The fear of violence was ever-present, and there was no peace to be found anywhere. The world we once knew had turned upside down, and there was no way to escape the horror that surrounded us.

Education, once a cornerstone of our future, was also put on hold. Schools were forced to close their doors as the violence spread, leaving us with no means of learning or progressing toward a brighter future. It felt as though the very fabric of our society had unraveled, and all hopes for tomorrow seemed out of reach. We could no longer dream of a better life when survival was our only concern.

But perhaps the most painful aspect of our suffering was the discrimination we faced as Tutsi in a country torn apart by ethnic conflicts. The Tutsi people were marked as enemies by many of our fellow citizens simply because of our heritage. We were treated as outsiders in our own country, hated and feared by those who had once been our neighbors, our friends, and even our family. This rejection, this hatred, cut deeper than any weapon. It felt as though we were being erased from the very land that had once been our home. We were targeted for violence and scorned by society simply because of the blood that ran through our veins.

The pain of being rejected and marginalized weighed heavily on our shoulders, and we longed for a place where we could feel safe, accepted, and valued. But there was no place for us in Rwanda anymore. The country we had known and loved was no longer the same, and our hopes for a peaceful life there had been dashed. With no other option left, we made the difficult decision to leave Rwanda and seek refuge elsewhere.

We embarked on a treacherous journey, one that was filled with uncertainty and danger. We braved dangerous roads, crossed unfamiliar lands, and faced numerous obstacles along the way. But our desire to find a place of safety and rebuild our lives pushed us forward. After an arduous journey, we finally arrived in Uganda, where we hoped to find refuge. Upon our arrival, we found ourselves among a large community of refugees, many of whom had fled similar horrors. The shared experience of suffering bound us together, and although the future remained uncertain, there was a sense of solidarity and hope.

Despite the hardships we faced, we were welcomed with open arms by the people of Uganda. They gave us a chance to rebuild our lives, to start anew in a land that was not our own. The kindness and generosity we received gave us a glimmer of hope, and we began to see that there was life beyond the horrors we had experienced. Slowly but surely, we began to rebuild, not just our physical lives, but our spirits as well. We had a long way to go, but we were no longer alone in our struggle.

In the aftermath of the conflict, we knew that healing and reconciliation would take time. We understood that the wounds of war ran deep and that the scars would remain long after the violence had ended. But we also believed in the power of forgiveness and understanding. We knew that, in order to move forward, we would need to let go of the pain and work together to build a better future.

Through our tireless efforts and unwavering determination, we began to become a beacon of hope for others who had suffered. We showed that even in the darkest times, there is always a glimmer of light, a spark of resilience that can help us overcome the most difficult challenges. Our story became one of survival, of hope, and of the unbreakable strength of the human spirit.

This is a testament to the strength and courage of those who have endured the horrors of war. It is a reminder that even in the face of unimaginable suffering, there is always hope for a brighter future. It is a call to action for reconciliation, for all of us to do our part in bringing an end to conflicts, discrimination, and suffering, and in building a more peaceful and compassionate world for all.