When it comes to commemorating the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, one of the quintessential youth-focused organizations in the country is Our Past Initiative, whose benevolent mission and moving performances draw in crowds of young audiences to the Kigali Genocide Memorial’s amphitheater every year.
Their impact, however, extends far beyond the stages of the amphitheater. “Transforming Lives, One Project at a Time,” reads their website. And indeed, they have. Now in its 12th year since its inception in Rwanda, Our Past has engaged over 18,890 youth, established more than 20 partnerships, renovated 56 houses, collected 135 million, and assisted 307 families.
Essentially, Our Past embodies the symbols of healing and impact, making them among the most prominent markers of genocide commemoration. But even before the organisation’s rapid and impressive growth began to impact genocide survivors and underprivileged neighborhoods, its founder, Christian Intwari had already taken on civic duty.
Barely 20 years old at the time, he grasped the knowledge gap between the generation before and the one post-genocide—a gap rooted in solidarity, in acknowledging that young people have numerous unanswered questions regarding the harrowing ordeal that Rwanda endured 30 years ago.
“Our parents don’t really talk about it [the genocide]. I mean, they do, but they only touch the surface,” he said, explaining that he understands healing is a complex process, and nobody knows how long it will take. That’s where Our Past comes in. “To bridge that gap. So, we’re trying to create avenues for young people to ask questions, but in a healthy way.”
That understanding seemed to be innate in Intwari, but his role as the youth’s moral guide began in 2011. It was then that he, along with his group of friends, realized that their dance troupe, consisting of 19 people from diverse backgrounds, could evolve into something greater. After their second show attracted a crowd of about 200 people, an idea bloomed.
“What if we could harness the audience’s energy to create something that could make a difference?” he pondered. “What are our chances?” Several dance performances (and various forms of artistic expression) later, with the help of kindred souls, the group has managed to shelter and feed genocide survivors for years on end.
Always a champion of art as a tool to remember and heal, Intwari spoke for his NGO when he said, during our interview, “There would be no Our Past without art. We started with an art form: dance. And that’s how we disseminate our message.”
The stories that constantly feature the organization in the news paint a vivid picture, but what about the challenges faced by its members? Why do they continue to stay dedicated? How much headway have they made in realizing their mission? Do they feel they’ve made enough impact? This perspective is essential for a thorough understanding.
Between sips of sparkling water, Intwari answered these questions, hopscotching between the ins, outs, ups and downs of Our Past Initiative’s 12-year journey. Here are edited excerpts from the conversation.
How has your personal journey influenced your leadership of an NGO like Our Past?
I’m a survivor, for starters. I grew up in a family that, well, was pretty crowded. We lived in a small house, but there were like 16 of us. This was right after the genocide, so it made me question a lot of things.
Why do I have siblings from before and after? Why are some people not really my siblings? Turns out, they were orphans with nowhere else to go. It was during the country’s reconstruction, so many had no choice but to stay where they could find shelter. Growing up like that made me wonder a lot.
Some questions got answered because my mom talked openly about our past and family, but my dad didn’t. That’s just how it was. I think it played a part in my journey to understanding our past.
The first time I really talked with my dad about it was in 2017. That’s why I’m passionate about reaching out to young people. They’re like me, trying to find answers. So we’re trying to educate them and encourage them to ask questions through our project.
Looking back on the 12 years of Our Past and the 30 years since the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, how do you assess the success of your organization in its mission?
Consistency is key, not just for Kwibuka, but for everything. It’s what has brought us to where we are today. Until last year, 2023, 76 percent of the funding came from young people themselves, totaling around 136 million.
We’ve gone from renovating one house a year to renovating twelve. We’ve started various programs to train survivors, giving them opportunities for part-time work. We’ve built rooms in rural areas to provide free access to sanitary products for young girls. One of these rooms in Bugesera district is now serving 273 students and 15 teachers.
Just two weeks ago, we inaugurated a second room at another school, serving 514 students and 22 teachers. We’ve also begun a small fishery farming project at the school to generate income and sustain the room.
To ensure its sustainability, we’ve purchased 700 chickens to generate monthly income for purchasing supplies and paying staff. We’ve seen significant growth, both in our audience and impact. We’ve expanded internationally, with events held in China, West Virginia, Canada, Malaysia, and now, Qatar, in partnership with the Rwandan Embassy. If all goes well, we’re also planning events in Italy and Germany next year in collaboration with UNHCR.
You mentioned earlier that there’s no Our Past without art. Could you elaborate on that? How, in your opinion, does art surpass traditional barriers in conveying the complexities of genocide commemoration?
We believe that art is more relatable to young people than traditional methods of communication. Art is also more accessible to everyone and easier to understand. We found success using art for the first time, showing how important it is in conveying our message about our past. That’s why I stress its importance. We started with art, after all.
Sometimes, when you watch a play, it raises many questions. You go home and discuss with others. Watching people perform in a play can even provide answers. This is how understanding grows. I felt a need to educate and assist young people. We may not have the power to persuade parents to talk to their kids, but we can encourage kids to ask questions.
Given the passage of time, how do you prevent repetition and maintain sensitivity in your approach?
We have to keep moving forward, even in the next 50 years, we have to make sure that there’s always someone to talk about it. Like the Jewish community, who take their history seriously, we should do the same.
Whether we like it or not, this will always be our history. The goal is to remember, but also to prevent the past from holding people back, you know? There was a time when everyone seemed stuck in a loop every April, with discussions only revolving around the past. It left many feeling devastated.
We want to remember without getting trapped in that cycle. Our mission is to ensure everyone understands the weight of commemorating the genocide and the importance of preventing such tragedies from happening again. Art helps us convey these messages effectively, keeping them contemporary, interesting, and engaging.
Could you discuss how you incorporate any new information you come across during commemoration events into your mission?
Sometimes, you come across unsettling reminders that wounds from the past haven’t fully healed. You realize that genocide ideology still exists. It’s eye-opening when you see perpetrators living next door to survivors, or when you witness the challenges of reintegrating individuals who have served time in jail back into the community.
In these small details that often go unnoticed, you begin to appreciate the efforts of the country’s leadership. Their efforts to promote reconciliation and convince people to coexist peacefully were monumental tasks.
I recall visiting a community where a friend of mine was running a project. We wanted to support some children by paying their school fees for a year, but two of the children refused our assistance. They were very young, around six or seven years old. It wasn’t their parents who declined but the children themselves. Their innocence highlighted the lingering effects of the past, reminding us of the ongoing challenges in the healing process.
As we contemplate the future, how do you see the role of youth-led initiatives evolving in Rwanda’s path towards healing and reconciliation?
I believe there’s hope for the future. We see promising initiatives emerging, driven by young visionaries with clear goals. If they continue their efforts, there’s potential for them to achieve great things and even surpass current achievements.
Additionally, with increased access to education, people are becoming more informed and less susceptible to manipulation. Unlike in the past, where corrupt leaders could easily sway young minds, today’s generation is more discerning. They ask questions and demand transparency before taking action. I’m optimistic that things will improve and grow, but it’s crucial to have strong leadership to steer us in the right direction.
If there’s one aspect you’d like to highlight about this year’s event, what would it be?
This year, we’re expanding our community outreach efforts. In addition to our ongoing projects like providing health insurance and renovating houses, we’re now focusing on giving survivors domestic animals. We believe this will provide them with sustainable sources of income and food security.
Thanks to our partnerships, we’ve secured 30 cows for 30 families, 128 sheep, and 105 goats. We’re also pleased to announce that our event will be held at the Nyanza Genocide Memorial on Tuesday, April 9th, starting at 5 pm. We’ve put a lot of effort into the technical and venue setup to ensure a memorable experience for all attendees.
