Gael Faye, known by his stage name Stromae, reflects on his first visit to Rwanda at the age of 12, in the aftermath of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. He recalls the haunting atmosphere of devastation and the silence that enveloped the country like thick, suffocating oil.
“After just a few days there, I wanted to flee and never return to this vast field of desolation,” he says.
The eyes he met were either vacant, shocked, or still intoxicated by the immense violence that had transpired.
“At the time, we referred to it as ‘the events’ or ‘the war,’ attempting to encapsulate the horror in euphemisms,” he adds.
Faye reveals the eerie silence that shrouded everything, a silence pregnant with the weight of unspeakable atrocities. In his own family, like in many others, the genocide was a taboo subject, left unspoken.
“It took me several years to comprehend that what happened in Rwanda wasn’t merely a cruel war as it was often portrayed, but a systematic extermination project with the chilling directive of ‘until the last Tutsi,’” he explains.
This year marks the 30th Commemoration of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda. Rather than fading, the echoes of the disaster seem to grow louder with time. Three decades later, the memory remains a burning ember, the wounds still raw, and the pain resurfaces with each commemoration.
Yet, despite the enduring sorrow, Rwandan society has risen against all odds, achieving the seemingly impossible: coexistence between victims and perpetrators.
“To witness so many men and women, still burying their dead, standing tall with dignity, and believing in the future despite buried tears, inspires me,” Faye shares. “It gives me the courage, every single day, to pen this country, to narrate its story, and to illuminate the fragile beauty that rises from the ashes.”
In Gael Faye’s testimony, we find not only a reflection on the past but also a celebration of the resilience and hope that endure in Rwanda’s journey towards healing and renewal.
