To the Brink of Death and Back

Grim evidence of the massacre outside a church. John Schenk/World Vision (1994)

On April 6, I went to visit my sister, not too far from my home. At 8:30 p.m., the radio announced that nobody could move. It was the time the president was killed. Immediately I was stuck at my sister’s place. My husband was stuck at a hotel where he was watching the World Cup. And my daughter, Vanessa, who was 4, was at home with our house girl.

My husband called me and said, “Chantal, don’t worry. Stay where you are. I am trying to get out, so that I may come and pick you up and we may go and see Vanessa.” He tried to comfort me because I was seven months pregnant.

Around midnight, he called me again. “Chantal, it is not easy. The president has been killed and nobody is moving. But be strong.” He told me, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Those were the last words I ever heard from my husband.

The next day, very early in the morning, my husband was killed at the hotel. My sister was informed of this, but she and her husband were afraid of what would happen [to my baby] if they told me. So they kept quiet until April 10. When they told me, I thought, “Now, I am finished.”

A woman attacked by Hutu gangs. John Schenk/World Vision (1994)

But then I remembered Vanessa, alone at home. My sister and brother-in-law tried to stop me, but I was like a mad woman. I ran out of the house. On my way, running while seven months pregnant, a car stopped and drove me to my place. I found Vanessa hiding under the table, very anxious and hopeless. For four days she had been crying, not eating, and always asking where we were. I took her in my arms and started weeping.

A group of men came in after me, telling me, “We are going to kill you.” One of them wanted to get his machete and kill me right then, but the others said, “No, leave her. Maybe others will come.”

When they left, one of my neighbors said, “Chantal, this place is not safe. Everybody knows that Alex is no longer here. Better to hide yourself, because they will kill you, too.”

The road was full of roadblocks. To go to my neighbor’s house, my only option was to jump the fence, but it was tall and I was seven months pregnant. After getting Vanessa over the fence, I started climbing and fell down on the other side. I started bleeding everywhere. I bled for three days, without any medicine, hiding under a bed.

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Families seeking refuge in Tanzania. Karen Homer/World Vision (1994)

Then the family decided to leave because even their place was not safe. They took me to the Hotel Milles Collines, “Hotel Rwanda,” as it was called in the movie. I stayed there about 10 days.

The hotel was full of people. But it was not stable. There was shooting. The militia could enter and take people to be killed. You could not trust anyone. There was another lady who was pregnant. One day, she was taken out and never came back. They say that when she reached the gate, she was killed.

I found a family who told me they were going south, to Butare, and then to Burundi. They agreed to take me. One of the men must have had connections and a lot of money, because we were only stopped twice. On the way, they changed their mind and decided not to go to Burundi. They dropped me off in a town called Gitarama. I was alone with Vanessa, with nothing to eat.

A young Rwanda Patriotic Front soldier. John Schenk/World Vision (1994)

In Gitarama, there were dead bodies everywhere. I put Vanessa on my back and started running. There were roadblocks made of dead bodies, so we had to jump over them. When I finally reached Butare, it was very late. I stood outside of a hotel and I saw a bunch of dead bodies. I noticed one person was not dead. “Could you please help me?” he said. But the militia came and pushed me back, saying, “If you don’t save yourself, you will be killed also.”

I thought, “Where can I go?” I thought, “If I reach the bush, I can stay there.”

So I continued until I felt completely tired. Vanessa was crying. Suddenly, a man came and brought tea for Vanessa. I noticed he was holding a Bible. “You cannot stay with me,” he said. “But I know a family that may have space for you. If you can be strong, I will take you there.”

We walked about two hours. When we reached the house, about 3 a.m., the family welcomed me, but there were already many people hiding. The woman was Tutsi and the old man was Hutu, a very kind man. He told me, “During the day, you have to hide, because people come to check if anybody is here. At night you can come back.”

I did as he said, staying there at night, hiding in the bush during the day. Sometimes I couldn’t return home at night because I had run too far. Then, I would stay in the bush, with nothing to eat, nothing to drink. I became used to it, but I was especially worried for Vanessa, a 4-year-old girl spending three or four days without eating.

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The time came to deliver my baby, June 12. I was hiding in some banana trees. I knew I could not manage alone. So I said to Vanessa, “The baby is coming. Go to the road. Don’t be afraid. Nobody will kill you. If you meet a woman, ask her to come with you to help your mom.”

Vanessa left and came back with a lady. But when the lady saw me, she refused to help me.

I prepared the area for giving birth. Before the war started, my husband and I were chatting, and he told me, “Chantal, when you are pregnant, it’s good to always travel with a razor and thread, in case you deliver.” So, when I went to pick up Vanessa at home, I remembered my husband’s words. I knew I was going to run and didn’t know where. So, I hid a razor and thread inside my clothes.

Children receive relief items from World Vision. Terri Owens/World Vision (1994)

That day in the banana trees, I cut down some leaves and placed them on the ground, laying out the razor and thread. I was suffering, feeling the baby was coming. So I sent Vanessa to try again and find someone to help me.

She came back with another lady. The lady examined me and said, “Don’t worry, I am a nurse. Even though I am running, I will help you.” God is always good to us. God knows what is going to happen.

I showed the woman the razor and thread and she told me to lie down. When the baby came out, the umbilical cord was around his neck. She told me, “I am going to save your son.” Using the razor and thread, she did everything she could. My son was alive. I named him Alex, after his father.

The woman gave me a piece of her clothing to cover the baby and said, “This is all I can do for you.” I said, “Thank you. If this is not the end of my life, it must be the beginning.”

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Displaced people flock to Rutare. Terri Owens/World Vision (1994)

On July 3, the family told us we could not stay [at the house] any longer. “People are coming and want to kill everyone here,” they said.

The war was very bad. On the road, many people were running. Even though I was carrying a baby, nobody cared about me. Sometimes, Vanessa could not walk because she was so hungry and thirsty. We were running up and down, hiding in ditches, hiding everywhere.

But God is good. Even though I was not eating, I kept having milk for my baby. I kept telling myself, “Maybe I will survive. Let me not give up.”

I tried to carry Vanessa on my back, but I was so tired. I put her down and she held on to my clothes. While we were running, the militia came and separated the crowd of people, taking some to be killed. I looked back and realized Vanessa was no longer with me. I said, “This is now the end of my life.”

I was not even thinking about my baby. I was just thinking about Vanessa. Without Vanessa, I had nothing. I begged people, “Please kill me. I have no reason to live. I have no hope. I want to be killed.” But they refused. I don’t know why. Maybe when you ask to be killed, people cannot. I even asked some people walking with me, “What can I do to kill myself? Do you know any secret I can do so that I may no longer be alive?”

A machete, a principal tool in the massacres. Terri Owens/World Vision (1994)

They said, “Chantal, don’t give up.” A woman told me her story, how she lost her husband and all of her children. I said, “Maybe you are strong, but me, I am not. I have lost my husband and now my daughter. What am I going to do with this baby?” I was like a mad woman, crying all the time. When we reached Gikongoro three days later, I found Vanessa. I don’t know how.

We continued running, all the way to the Congo, going from Bukavu to Goma. It was so far. We walked without anything. We were like skeletons—me, my baby, and Vanessa. Finally, I said, “Maybe it’s better to return to my country.”

In September 1994, I came back to Rwanda. I was informed that my mother and father had been killed. I found a family who used to be close to us. They took care of me and my children, and life started again.

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Children at a World Vision reconciliation seminar. Nigel Marsh/World Vision (1998)

Before I joined World Vision, I was working with the United Nations Development Programme. In 2000, I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. At that time, I said, “I want to follow my mom.” My mom had been a Christian and she had a big heart for vulnerable people. I decided to resign from the UNDP, feeling that I was not in the right place. I thought I would go where my mom used to live and start a small ministry to help orphans.

One day I was telling a man about my vision for helping vulnerable children, starting with my small budget and trusting that God would provide. He told me, “Chantal, do you know I am working for World Vision?”

I said, “What is World Vision?” He said, “World Vision is a Christian organization, and its vision is to be able to help vulnerable children find fullness of life.”

I thought, “Wow, this might be the right place for me.” He told me that there were some vacant posts in logistics. I gave him my application, and I got a job at World Vision.

The first day was the Day of Prayer, October 1. They prayed for me specifically as I was a new staff. They blessed me. But you can see when a person is not okay. They realized that even though I was living, I was dead.

World Vision has a very good program called Healing, Peacebuilding, and Reconciliation, helping counsel people who are impacted by the genocide. Some people in this program approached me. I said that they could not help me. “I cannot forget my husband, I cannot forget what happened,” I said. “Don’t try to convince me that you can help me not live [in] the past.”

Juliette (left), widowed in the genocide, and Emmanuel (right), one of the killers, came together in a reconciliation workshop. Jon Warren/World Vision (2007)

They said, “We can.” So they started the process. I began telling my story. I had never told anyone. Then they asked me to write a love letter to my husband. I was furious. I said, “How can I write a letter to a husband who is no longer there, and tell him lovely words?”

I kept weeping the whole day. They said, “Keep going, this is good.” I said, “These people of World Vision! I joined them, thinking they would help me, yet they are killing me again!”

But after the session, I felt free. I wrote a lovely letter to my husband, telling him what happened. [The counselors] asked, “Do you think if your husband was alive, he would be happy with how you are living?” I said, “Maybe not. He would be happy when I am happy.”

I started to understand how bad it is to live in the past. It’s like a wound that you have to cut and let something bad come out. If you keep something bad in you, in the end it can kill you.

When I joined the donor relations department at World Vision, I realized that I could not avoid escorting visitors to the Genocide Memorial Museum in Kigali. I had heard there were some pictures of my mother [there]. I didn’t know if I could look at them.

The first time I entered with donors, I could not continue. I said, “Next time.” The third trip, I tried and succeeded, even seeing the pictures of my mother. Since that day, I can visit the memorial freely. I am able to tell my story. Today, I am completely healed.

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My daughter, Vanessa, 18, has also been through counseling. But she has been very impacted by what happened. She is so quiet. You never see her smiling. You may ask her, “Vanessa, what is wrong?” And even now she will answer, “I miss something.” I cannot ask [the next] question because I know the answer. When you ask what she misses, she will say, “I miss my Daddy.”

My son, Alex, is now 15, and we are so close. I tell him, “You are a blessed boy.” I think he will be a very powerful man. He will fight for the peace of the country. He is already trying to sensitize other boys of his generation so that what happened will never happen again. “Never again,” he will say. “What happened to my mom will never happen again.”

After 15 years, I decided to get married again. My husband, he is so lovely. I met him through church. One day I saw him preaching. I said, “Wow! That may be a man for me. Not only is he handsome, but what he has on his heart is perfect!” I prayed, “God, if you don’t give me that man, I want to have the twin of that man.”

We started communicating, and one day he asked me, “Chantal, what is your vision?” I told him, “My vision is to start a ministry and be able to help widows and orphans.”

Chantal Kagaba in March 2009, pregnant with Joshua.
Andrea Peer/World Vision (2009)

So we drafted a project called Come and Rest. It is not yet official, but we have started working in the community where my parents used to live. We are helping widows and orphans in small ways, like providing scholastic materials, health insurance, and showing them love and hope. God knows me. He gave me somebody who is sharing my vision.

My new baby is Joshua. He is a joy in my family. My hope for him is that he will be able to enjoy the good things of what is happening in Rwanda. He will never experience what I did. He will be able to enjoy life and grow.

I have hope for the future of Rwanda. Because if you see what happened, where we were, and where we are now, not only in terms of development but also in terms of healing, peace, and reconciliation, it is amazing. There is a big change. I really have hope for the future.

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