Thirty years ago, Interahamwe militia, under the direction of political leaders, perpetrated a devastating genocide in Rwanda, targeting the Tutsi minority with killings and violence over a period of 100 days. But RPF-Inkotanyi, the liberation movement that ended the genocide, ensured that history would not define Rwanda’s future. They put an end to the horrors this month three decades ago and ushered in a new era of peace and harmony.
Today, Rwanda, like any nation, is still deeply flawed and error-prone, but terrorism is no longer a major concern in daily Rwandan life. Those born within the past 30 years of rebuilding the nation are the latest witnesses to this reality, and the country’s success story has been well documented. Simply put, Rwanda is thriving.
As President Kagame correctly noted in his speech during the commemoration ceremony a few days ago, “This country is [theirs] to protect, defend, and make prosperous.” This isn’t forced upon Rwandans; it’s a choice they’ve embraced to maintain lasting peace.
For the generation born post-genocide, Liberation Day honors those who sacrificed their lives for a free Rwanda, now enjoyed by young people and survivors alike. At its core, it embodies ideals of freedom, responsibility, feminism, human rights, equality, LGBTQ rights, and the dream of indefinite unity. These values shine through in interviews we conducted with Rwanda’s youth as they reflect on the significance of July 4th. The following excerpts have been edited for conciseness and brevity.
Theophilla Uwase, 24
Liberation for me is an intense term. It is a reflection on things I have now, things my parents dreamed of and never got to have. Things like education, health care, and the ability to live and move freely in my country. Things like gender equality, and opportunities to work among others. Real people fought for that and some gave their lives. I happen to live their dreams. From that Liberation becomes an encouragement in tough times.
I also think the ongoing process of Rwanda’s Liberation is not discussed enough. The story always kind of stops when the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi was stopped. For example, a few days ago, I was listening to a YouTube video explaining how RPF continued to fight genocide perpetrators in the Democratic Republic of the Congo until the early 2000s. I didn’t know about it, and I am relatively informed on these things (compared to people my age).
We don’t discuss what Rwanda was liberated from as we should. Again, the story isn’t always full. Many people tell the story starting from the 2nd government after Independence. To fully understand why Liberation is such a big deal we have to go way back. Starting with colonization every time.
Glory Iribagiza, 25
In many liberation movements, women’s contributions are often overlooked. We usually hear about “men in uniform,” as if there were no women involved. In Rwanda’s Liberation, however, women contributed outstandingly, and I believe they occupy every space in the country because of their efforts.
I feel inspired listening to their stories. They remind me that there’s nothing I can’t do if I set my mind to it. As women, we shouldn’t tolerate any form of exclusion because Rwanda belongs to all of us equally. A big thank you to our liberators; we are forever indebted to them.
Mignonne, 27
What resonates with me most is feeling cared for in this country, especially in terms of health. After liberation, the government worked hard to vaccinate all kids, which means we don’t have some of the diseases other countries still face. Given my weak immune system, I’m grateful for this effort because it likely saved my life.
Another important aspect is feeling included. Our history is painful, and while I’d love to know more about our roots, sometimes ignorance is a form of protection. I remember the fear people had of local defense forces, but now that fear is gone.
Liberation also means having opportunities. I didn’t go to good schools and my parents still struggle, but our leadership tries to look beyond material possessions. We have a long way to go, but the mindset is changing. Even though I don’t fully belong because of my beliefs (like being queer), I still feel proud to call this country home. I think about the people who lost their lives for our freedom and wish they could see how far we’ve come.
Lionell Sheja, 30
Liberation for me means acknowledging that our current president won’t live forever and hoping for a smooth transition in leadership. The youth today carry the hope that the sacrifices made during the Liberation War weren’t in vain. It’s also about believing we’ll be okay.
When I was 18-20, my parents told us stories about surviving the genocide, and we laughed out of disbelief and relief that we made it. If I try to imagine being in my parents’ shoes, it must have been terrifying. We were constantly threatened, with people saying they would come back to kill any Tutsis. I remember a young man jumping over our fence to escape the militia.
Despite the fear, we had hope because we heard that RPA soldiers were nearby, rescuing people and guiding them to safety. They told us if we saw soldiers with farm boots, they would lead us to safety. This slim hope kept us going. For a long time, I didn’t consider myself a survivor because I didn’t witness the worst atrocities. But remembering these stories reminds me that I am indeed a survivor.
Jean Felix Muyisengs, 25
One aspect of Liberation that resonates with me personally is the liberation of thought and dialogue. In Rwanda, there has been a significant emphasis on unity and reconciliation, understandably so after the tragic events of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. But as we progress as a nation, there is a growing recognition of the importance of open, honest dialogue about various social, political, and cultural issues.
Liberation in this context involves the freedom to discuss sensitive topics, challenge assumptions, and explore different perspectives without fear of reprisal. It’s about promoting a culture where individuals feel empowered to express their opinions respectfully and engage in constructive debates that contribute to national discourse and understanding.
Lucille Umuringa Iriza, 22
My mom shared a story that deeply affected me. During the genocide, many family members were scattered, each trying to survive. My mom thought everyone was dead until she heard one of my aunts survived by drinking from a bloody river.
She was found a week later after the genocide ended. When we celebrate Liberation, I think about how RPF helped reconnect families, not just save the country. They set up groups like Never Again Rwanda and Peace and Love Proclaimers, to reunite people with lost relatives.
Family is everything, and discovering you’re not alone is indescribable. In Kinyarwanda, we say, “kumenyako umuryango wawe utazimye burundu,” which loosely translates to “knowing that your family didn’t completely get wiped out.” My mom’s cousin, who survived the river, now lives in South Africa with her husband and kids.
Sandra Mushambokazi, 24
According to my mom, when RPF arrived, my uncle was badly injured, with his intestines exposed. They tried desperately to save him, but he died on the way to get medical help.
She explained that there were so many times they were tricked by the Interahamwe claiming to be RPF Inkotanyi, promising rescue only to betray and kill many. It’s heartbreaking to think that people died because they thought they were being saved. It’s this struggle—trying to save lives while fearing rescue—that hit home for me.
During the commemoration months every year, life feels different. Remembering isn’t just recalling; for survivors, it’s reliving those dark days. When Liberation finally comes, it feels like we were ending a long, sad period, just as they did in the past. That’s why I believe July 4th should be celebrated more loudly with drums on the streets and everyone feeling, “Yes, we’re rescued,” no matter how many times—30, 100, or even 200 times over.
It’s a time when people can come out, remember they were rescued, and start rebuilding after the genocide. We should commemorate it deeply because this generation is here, listening. The fact that it all happened in July, halfway through the year, reminds us to get up and make the most of our second chance. We should ask ourselves, “What am I not doing right?” and contribute to our families, ourselves, and our country’s development.
Kevin Ntwali, 25
Liberation means “Kwishyira ukwizana (right for your freedom).” At 25, having a nationality is something I deeply appreciate. Before 1994, many Rwandans were forced to live in neighboring countries because of ethnic differences. Unlike my ancestors who were refugees, I now feel proud and grateful to the Inkotanyi for ending those tough times and uniting our nation. Their actions have given us a sense of identity and belonging that I cherish.
King Ngabo, 28
Kwibohora, for me, is a reminder not to forget what our parents fought for. It means giving everything—my art, creations, abilities, knowledge, strength—to contribute fully to the development of our country.
Iradukunda Jean de Dieu, 26
As a youth born after the Genocide against the Tutsi, Liberation means the unity and resilience of Rwandans in all aspects of life—social, political, and economic development. It instills in me a strong sense of patriotism, driving me to protect Rwanda’s achievements and strive for more. I feel proud to live in a country full of opportunities for youth, where together, we can thrive and achieve our goals.
