Rwandan Refugees, a story of life - An Exhibit

<body stylesrc="Rwandan_Refugee_Stories.htm" bgcolor="#C0C0C0">  <h3 align="center"><font face="Arial" size="4" color="#000080">(All of these stories are in the book <u>Africa, The Holocausts of Rwanda and Sudan</u> published by The University of New Mexico Press Feb 2006 by Lucian Niemeyer)</font></h3> <h3 align="center"> </h3> <h3 align="center"> </h3> <h3 align="center"><u><font face="Arial" color="#800000" size="6">In A Valley of Death Beneath a Volcano</font></u></h3> <p align="center"><b><font color="#0000FF" face="Arial" size="2">Delaware County Sunday Times - October 29,1994</font></b></p> <p align="center"><b><font color="#008000" size="4" face="Arial">Mugunga Camp, Goma, Zaire (Congo) - September 7th,1994</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    There is a place in Africa, in Zaire, that is called the Valley of Death. Here on a lava flow, when it rains, carbon dioxide gas emits, providing a killing atmosphere for humans. This is where an active volcano spews it's sulfur fumes and ashes each day, providing a glow in the sky at night. Thus it was not inhabited but with a few intrepid poor settlers, who eke out a living raising goats and a small garden. Here four months ago, over 200,000 refugees from Rwanda found empty ground and settled their weary, hungry bodies, after walking with their families for months. They fled the genocide and the threat of retaliation from the victorious minority <i>Tutsi</i> army, and they fled with the retreating beaten <i>Hutu</i> army. They fled carrying nothing; no goods, no food, no housing and no animals to give them sustenance. They came with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They fled in fear. Here in Mugunga, they are packed ten persons to each 10 by 15 foot area, shoulder to shoulder, camp fire to camp fire, sleeping on black lava rock in small straw hovels covered with blue plastic sheeting provided by the United Nations, no food, no water, no toilets. You heard the stories of the cholera epidemic. Water systems provided by members of the international community have resolved the terror of the disease. Now the camp is waiting the next. It is just too crowded. The outside world has provided food, latrines, water and other life sustaining services; but the refugees can do nothing, so they mill, gamble and visit. Here a population waits. There is no work. There is no means of providing. The people, once proud, albeit poor, are statistics waiting to happen. The next epidemic...The rains...An eruption...It is waiting to happen. </font></b> </p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    Yet in the midst of this human disaster, on a hill, is a beacon of hope. For here run by Esther, a nurse from Nairobi, is an orphanage. Victims of the over one million deaths from genocide and cholera, these children are being taken care of by the angels of mercy. Rwandan and Zairian women, schoolteachers, Irish nurses and Irish builders, an Australian engineer. They carved a camp for 458 children out of lava. Here a life giving non-governmental provider has had the vision to create laughter and hope out of misery and death. Each day children arrive with new horror to explain, sullen, hungry, diseased. Here comes a girl, 15 years old and <i>Tutsi.</i> Her parents, aunts and uncles were killed in Rwanda. The four brothers and sisters were separated in their flight. The oldest is sick and has been cared for by the fifteen year old. She hears that her brothers are in the orphanage and walks from the Kibumba camp to see if her brothers are in the orphanage. In a heart wrenching scene they are reunited. Dry tears tell the story of the horror. The younger girl walks back to Kibumba, 23 miles each way, to gather her ill sister, leaving the protection of a soldier, to reunite the remains of the family. To what future...At least they are together. Here a boy of 8, who has walked for four months through Rwanda after his family was killed, alone, came. He came starving, diseased and insect infested, not able to vocalize his terror. Here he has been nourished, his cheeks have filled out, his legs and body healed. He doesn't laugh yet, but give these angels with their motherly arms and story tellers time. Here the <i>pied piper</i> calls the children into songfests. There, children from the outside peer over the plastic sheet walls to watch hope be given to victims. Here, the <i> Hutu</i> and <i>Tutsi</i> struggle does not create new victims. In this place, hope has a future, among these angels of mercy. In this <i>Valley of Death</i>, beneath the volcano, in Zaire.</font></b></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><b><u><font face="Arial" color="#800000" size="6">A Place with no future and little means of escape</font></u></b></p> <p align="center"><b><font color="#0000FF" face="Arial" size="2">Delaware County Sunday Times - January 15,1995</font></b></p> <p align="center"><b><font color="#008000" size="3" face="Arial">Kibumba Camp, Goma, Zaire (Congo) - September 6th, 1994</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font face="Arial" size="4">    Below a towering, smoldering, glowing volcano, in a valley an observer finds a camp of straw hovels covered with blue or white plastic sheets. at Kibumba Camp. As far as the eye can see, these hovels each have a campfire burning with a pot of gruel or beans to be eaten by the poor homeless Rwandan refugees. The smog created by the campfires, is enhanced by the fumes, ash and dust from the volcano, which is relieved only when the air is cleansed by rain. This camp near Goma, Zaire is one of three centers of refugees, who fled Rwanda following the slaughter of half-a-million <i>Tutsi</i> by the rival <i>Hutu</i> army. The small <i>Tutsi</i> army then drove out the larger <i>Hutu</i> army out of Rwanda. More then a million of the civilian population followed, fearing reprisal by the <i>Tutsi</i>. The continuing old feud plays into one of the most terrible human disasters known to man. The estimated death toll has risen to 1.2 million, following starvation on the flight, cholera and death in the camps. Today Rwandans in this camp of over 200,000 have no home, no income, and little worth combined with great fear. Here packed like cattle in pens, they are statistics waiting to happen. Waiting for the next epidemic...Waiting for the volcano to spew its deadly lava,... waiting...waiting...waiting. Waiting for food, for water, for vitamins, for a doctor. While the world community and non-governmental organizations have provided treated water from Lake Kivu, food from the more prosperous nations and latrines carved out of lava; the disaster in the loss of human life, dignity, family structure, endeavor and identity is mind boggling. Fear of retaliation prevents the return of the refugees to Rwanda. The need for refugee survival has caused the destruction of cornfields, stripping of the banana trees, stealing of the animals and clear cutting the landscape for firewood and foliage for the building of hovels. It looks as if a giant scythe has leveled all to be seen. Now the women and children have to go far afield to obtain wood for the everburning camp fires. It is human misery at its lowest. Yet there is another tragedy that is worse.</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font face="Arial" size="4">    In the Kibumba Zone in Zaire, 29,000 <i>Hunde </i> and <i> Kumu</i> tribes people have eked out a poor living from the lava soil. A few years ago there was a small influx of Zairian <i>Hutus</i>. These people have lived in peace on the edge of starvation. Yet these family units are strong and their leaders, chosen from the wisest, have created a balanced life with a rich tribal heritage. The average lifespan for this area is about 55 years, so it has not been an easy life without medicine and good water. This is how it has been for years, without amenities, yet providing for a dignified and fruitful life. The children under 14 account for 60% of the population. All have their duties in the poor dusty villages. That is, until 200,000 refugees descended like a hoard of locusts on this quiet land.. In days, age old balances were toppled. Corn crops were razed, animals were stolen, bananas eaten, water systems polluted and the economy ruined by the black market speculation in Goma. The Zairian currency inflated to over 2500 shillings per dollar. Locals who sold their meager crops for minimal pots and essentials were abruptly excluded from the market. These tribes, left out of the worldwide support network for the refugees, face starvation and ruin. Now no one is there to tell their story. The government in Zaire is so poor that they can not have an interest. Unless someone or a government decides to help these 29,000 civilians, they too will become statistics of the Rwandan exodus. Small, as compared to the larger Rwandan catastrophe, it is an important nuance of the whole picture. Innocent for sure...blameless yes, the injustice of a terrible dark feud continues to devastate and haunt humans through out the area and the world. For here is no justice, no order and little future. Here, the dignified tall chief's face reflects the horror that he can not prevent for his people. Here, hundreds of thousand refugees have snuffed out the future of a peaceful people. Here 12,000 adults can not explain to their children the hopelessness that they all face. There is an overwhelming sadness in this place. Here, the balances of human dignity have been torn asunder with a roar as loud as the potential eruption that will again pour lava on this area. In this place in Kibumba, in Zaire, there is no future and little means to escape.</font></b></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><u><font color="#800000" size="6" face="Arial">A Human Drama of Epic Proportions</font></u></p> <p align="center"><b><font face="Arial" size="2" color="#0000FF">Delaware County Sunday Times - February 19, 1995</font></b></p> <p align="center"><b><font color="#008000" size="3" face="Arial">Mugunga Camp, Goma, Zaire (Congo) - September 5, 1994</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    As a poor little dusty city beside beautiful Lake Kivu, Goma is playing center stage to a human drama of epic proportions. The city is dominated by an active volcano, which just a few years ago poured lava throughout the area and then flowed through Goma into the lake. Today this glowing, hissing volcano continues to spew ash and sulfur, reminding all that it is waiting and ready to erupt at any time. Lava, ash and fine dust permeate everything and everywhere, playing havoc with machines and respiratory systems. Zaire is one of the worlds poorest nations and Goma is destitute. Its people survive with a minimum of amenities. Beauty is rare here, with only the birds and flowers that grow everywhere in this central African nation. A stable economy is non-existent.</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    Through this city in the past five months, have flowed a torrent of refugees, fleeing the violence in Rwanda; fleeing with the <i>Hutu</i> army, responsible for 500,000 <i>Tutsi</i> civilian deaths. Wanton murder stemming from an age old tribal feud, the <i>Hutu</i> civilians witnessing the genocide, expect massive <i>Tutsi </i> reprisals. The <i>Tutsi</i> army, less then one fourth of the <i>Hutu</i> army, drove them out of Rwanda in anger. The <i>Hutu</i> army ashamed of its weakness, wearing the mantle of disgrace and of atrocities committed, are anxious to reorganize and give battle to the <i>Tutsi</i> army now firmly in control of Rwanda. The terror of the civilians in the camps is pervasive and the <i>Hutu</i> soldiers plays it like a harp. 1.2 million civilians fled Rwanda, spreading out like a fan on Goma's flanks settling in open fields. To the Mugunga Camp, home of more then 200,000 refugees, the settlers brought no food, no livestock, no carts, no goods, no clothes except what was on their backs... no nothing except with 30,000 soldiers from the beaten army . Into this <i>Valley of</i> <i> Death</i> they came, and they placed their emaciated bodies on a large lava flow, known for its deadly carbon dioxide when rains cause it to be released. They created hovels of straw, shoulder to shoulder, camp fire to camp fire as far as the eye can see. The lack of clean water created and epidemic of cholera. Starvation, typhoid, dysentery, malaria, aids, blackwater fever; its all here, enmasse. Another 700,000 civilians died in the flight and the early camps. Mass graves with as many as 40,000 bodies are piled into excavations carved into the lava mantle. Into this breech, world organizations moved, providing treated water from Lake Kivu, plastic sheeting for hovel protection, food, vitamins, latrines and medical help. They all came; the United Nations, French, Dutch, Swedes, Germans, Americans, Irish, British, Canadians, Australians, World Vision, Care, Blessing, Samaritans Purse, Gaol, Oxfam, Southern Baptist Relief, Medicines Sans Frontiers, Lady's of Charity. Quickly the camp stabilized with an amazing efficiency that spoke of individual dedication. They prevented continued mass starvation, more epidemics and deaths.</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    Into this equation the potent force of the age old feud between the minority (15%) <i>Tutsi</i> and the larger (85%) <i>Hutu</i> is playing a deadly game. The <i>Hutu</i> army driven from Rwanda is shamed and disenfranchised. In the camps they are arrogant and ruthless, stealing food from the civilians. They begin to reorganize, creating power bases in the camp. Creating fear and dissension, they spread rumors of massive reprisal if the civilians return to their homes. A <i> Hutu</i> lady returns to her home in Rwanda. After a long journey she returns to the camp to convince her family that it is safe. She is immediately killed by the soldiers. The soldiers wanting to avenge their disgrace, recover buried arms and conduct raids into Rwanda, then retreat into the camp in anonymity. The pot continues to simmer each day as reflections bring new anger. Into this seething cauldron the world organizations come, producing miracles each day with stories of individual courage and unselfishness. An orphanage is created on a hill in the middle of the camp. Food distribution centers are established, medicine delivery is scattered throughout the valley. Water is treated and tanks are built and distributed: Latrines are dug and the dead are buried. Early in the provider support effort, stories of courage and character are the norm. The soldiers wishing to reestablish their authority, challenge the providers, demanding that they be the vehicles of distribution of food and sheeting. A large gathering surrounds the distribution point. A single black man from California, Ellis Franklin is confronted by angry soldiers surrounding him, demanding that they be in charge of distribution. With dignity, Ellis tell the crowd that either the provider will do the distribution or it will withdraw. After hours of a noisy stalemate the crowd finally tells Ellis to do the distribution. The soldiers fall silent and sullen. Each day they test Ellis's resolve, waiting. One man against a horde of disenfranchised soldiers. Each day Ellis's determination stands out like a beacon, bringing order and raising the level of humaneness in the camp. Ellis, with his quiet resolve and purpose has created order out of anarchy and saved many lives. Again and again, such nobleness manifests itself in this human hell, by those unselfish souls who risk all for their fellow man.</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    Since I have returned, the United Nations and Zairian government have taken steps to remove the army from the Mugunga Camp and to monitor the border. Yet the coming rains, increasing boredom and anger over the shame, creates a tinderbox which bespeaks of more tragedy and death in this poor remote region, the Mugunga Camp, in <i>The Valley of Death</i>, near Goma, beneath the volcano, in Africa.</font></b></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><b><u><font color="#800000" size="6" face="Arial">Rwandan Refugees, a story of life - Epilogue</font></u></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    It is fast forward time from September 1994 to November of 1997. Over the more then three years since, in excess of 1,200,000 <i>Hutus</i> fled Rwanda following the genocide of over 500,000, mostly <i>Tutsi</i>, the holocaust has taken its toll. Well over one million civilians have died. The old.. the young.. the infirmed.. the women; it made no difference in this tribal strife. In the refugee camps in Zaire, the disenfranchised <i>Hutu</i> army had reorganized, assuming authority and driving most of the world providers from the camps. The United Nations and care givers were ordered to give the <i>Hutu</i> army the role of distributing life giving human services such as food, water and vitamins. The abuse of power intensified. The emboldened <i>Hutu</i> army continued to keep the pot boiling by launching raids into Rwanda under the cover of darkness,  then retreating back to the cover of the civilian camps, where the soldiers blended in, keeping the civilian population hostage to the crisis. The camps were in constant fear. For over two and a half years the civilian population lived in these makeshift ugly minimal camps. There was no work and nothing to do each day, just existing, waiting and dying. Waiting to go home. In these idle camps of horror, the death rate was matched by the birthrate. The dead were constantly being replaced by the newly born. The loss of dignity that the population experienced was monumental. The environment, poor before, was devastated by women and children looking for firewood. Now miles away, taking days to retrieve, so as to keep the one order, the campfire going to cook their weak gruel. Local Zairians were devastated by the crumbling economy, already among the poorest in the world. Zairian soldiers had not been paid for months extracted a living from the civilian populace, already starving. Anarchy existed and it was a cruel existence for a great number of people. </font></b> </p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    Then the newly empowered <i>Hutu</i> army decided that it would eliminate the Zairian <i>Tutsi</i> population and the simmering cauldron boiled over. The Zairian <i>Tutsi</i> population organized a rebel coalition and drove the Rwandan <i>Hutu</i> army from the three camps into the Zairian interior driving the Zairian army in front of it. The civilian <i>Hutu</i> population fled with the army and after a starving period walked and were bussed back to their homes in Rwanda. Meanwhile the rebel coalition continued to force the Zairian army back. Finally, surrender by corrupt Mobutu government created a change of authority and a new name, <i>Congo</i>. Over 800,000 civilians of the three camps have returned to their homes in Rwanda. Many found that new <i>Tutsi</i> settlers had assumed their small ranchettes. The <i>Tutsi</i> have recognized many of the genocide perpetrators among the returnees and now single them out. The impact of the massacre and the cruel aftermath in Zaire will take generations to resolve in Rwanda and Zaire.</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font size="4" face="Arial">    Central African society is made up of tribes and families. Governments, quite often corrupt and bad are tolerated as long as families and tribes are maintained. In this latest chapter of the <i>Hutu</i> and <i>Tutsi</i> struggle families and tribes with local towns and communities have suffered the deadliest destruction that the African society can endure. Recovery from the April 1994 genocide and its aftermath will take generations and centuries of people living in a peaceful environment to overcome. Too many mothers, children and old have died and they will be remembered by the broken families and tribes. Peace will not come easily. It is incumbent of the world community not to tolerate genocide in any form or place and for any reason. The whole world community suffers under its terrible legacy.</font></b></p> <p align="left"><b><font face="Arial"><font size="4">The events in central Africa have told us so, </font><font color="#800000" size="4">again</font><font size="4">.</font></font></b></p> <p align="center"><b><font face="Arial" size="5">Return to <a href="Africa%20-%20Four%20Stories.htm">Africa, Four Stories</a></font></b></p> <p align="center"><b><font face="Arial" size="5">Return to <a href="index.htm">Niemeyer Fine Art Photography</a></font></b></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="center"><u><font size="4"><strong><font color="#FFFFFF" face="Arial">To go to a documentary of how this story came about press</font> </strong></font></u></p> <p align="center"><u><font face="Arial"><a href="Rwandan_Refugee_Story_of_Trip.htm"><strong><font size="5">Rwandan</font><font size="4"> </font><font face="Arial" size="5"> Exhibit Info</font></strong></a></font></u></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#800000" face="Arial" size="3">This exhibit of images and text is copyrighted and shall not be copied by any means without express written approval from an officer of LNS Art or Joan and Lucian Niemeyer. Use of the material in any form is prohibited. You may reach us at</font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><a href="mailto:lucian@lnsart.com"><font face="Arial" size="4" color="#0000FF">lucian@lnsart.com</font></a></strong></p> <p align="center"> </p>  </body>