Thirty years after the horrific Rwandan genocide, the scars remain raw. In Ngoma village, villagers wielding shovels and hoes unearthed a chilling reminder of the tragedy: a mass grave filled with bones, believed to hold the remains of 119 victims.
Under a somber silence, volunteers carefully collected skulls, teeth, and bone fragments, while tattered clothing offered the faintest glimmer of hope for identifying loved ones lost in the 1994 slaughter. This grisly discovery is far from uncommon, even three decades later.
An estimated 800,000 people, mainly from the Tutsi minority, were brutally murdered over 100 days by the Hutu extremist regime. Neighbor turned against neighbor in a horrifying ethnic pogrom that forever scarred the tiny East African nation.
Ngoma, a village roughly three hours from Kigali, bears its own painful history. Goreth Uwonkunda, a lifelong resident, recounts roadblocks erected by Hutu extremists, followed by Tutsis dragged from their cars and slaughtered. “This is clearly one of the mass graves where they were dumped,” she says, pointing to the newly unearthed site.
The chilling fact is, the family residing on the land where the mass grave was discovered is now under arrest for suspected complicity in the genocide and concealment of evidence. A whistleblower had alerted authorities last October, leading to the excavation.
“It is suspected they knew what was underneath them,” says Napthali Ahishakiye, president of the genocide survivors’ group Ibuka. “This was a family secret.”
The discovery has left residents reeling. Uwonkunda expresses disbelief: “They slept comfortably on top of bodies every night? It’s shameful and shocking.”
Unfortunately, Ngoma is not an isolated case. Mass graves continue to be found across Rwanda, highlighting the horrifying scale of the 1994 massacres. In the past five years alone, Ibuka estimates over 100,000 genocide victims have been unearthed.
“There are survivors looking for loved ones, 30 years after,” says Ahishakiye. “But those with information remain tight-lipped, often relatives of the killers themselves.”
One such survivor is Celestin Kambanda, a 70-year-old farmer who lost seven children in the genocide. He sifts through the unearthed scraps, clinging to a sliver of hope. “Maybe I can recognize my children from their clothes,” he murmurs. “Just to give them a decent burial one day.”
Even decades later, the wounds of the Rwandan genocide remain open. Each unearthed grave reopens the chapter of unimaginable loss, and the search for answers and solace continues.