Uwamahoro Angelique meets her parents after 28 years
For nearly three decades, Uwamahoro Angelique lived in silence.
She carried a wound so deep it shaped her very existence—a wound carved by the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, which stole her family, her identity, and for a long time, her hope.
She didn’t just survive the Genocide—she survived its echo, year after year, enduring remembrance seasons in isolation. She would switch off the radio when memorial programs aired. She avoided gatherings. She never spoke of her past. Not to her neighbors. Not even to her own children.
“I didn’t see the point,” she says. “Telling the story felt like scratching a wound that would never heal.”
A Spark of Hope
But everything changed in 2022.
After 28 years of believing she had no one, of mourning people she never got to bury, Uwamahoro discovered something she thought impossible: her family was alive.
Now, as Rwanda marks the 31st commemoration of the Genocide against the Tutsi, Uwamahoro stands not just as a survivor, but as a woman reborn—ready to speak, to remember, and to celebrate a reunion that defied every odd.
A New Chapter Begins
Uwamahoro, named Munganyinka by her parents, lives in Cyonyo Village, Bushoga Cell, Nyagatare Sector. She says that this year, she will attend remembrance events—and, for the first time, share her story publicly.
She does so with joy, after finally finding her family—a family she had spent 28 years searching for, with no hope they had survived.
“I never thought the day would come when I’d be free from the sorrow of not having a family. But God made it happen,” she says.
Haunted by Loneliness
She recalls how she used to spend every remembrance period in emotional retreat.
“I lived a life where I never told anyone my story,” she says. “When commemoration time came, it pulled me backward. I didn’t even want to hear it on the radio, let alone go be with others.”
She kept her story secret even from her own children. “I never even told other children my story, because I felt like saying it would do nothing but drag me down.”
The Genocide’s Scars
The pain, she says, came mostly from the fact that she lived without a family—and without ever burying them.
The Genocide found her in what is now Rulindo District, where she was being raised by her grandmother. Her parents were living in Gicumbi. When the killings began, her grandmother’s entire family was slaughtered, leaving only Uwamahoro and her aunt alive. But they too were separated while fleeing. A woman found Uwamahoro and took her to Congo.
That woman eventually died. Another family took her in, brought her back to Rwanda, and raised her in Rubavu District. They supported her education through secondary school and helped her get married—though the marriage didn’t last.
Searching Against All Odds
In 2022, she made a bold decision. She went public, sharing her story with the media in a last attempt to find her family—even though she believed they had all been killed.
“I grew up with a goal,” she says. “That once I finished school and got a job, I’d begin the search for my family, even though I couldn’t imagine anyone had survived. But I didn’t get the chance—I got married quickly, though it didn’t work out, and I was left to raise the children alone.”
“Even though I separated from my husband and raised the children by myself, I managed to rebuild. I started the search. Then one day, I found my family—through my aunt. I was shocked to hear that my mother and father were alive. And so were my younger siblings.”
A Joyful Shock
She later learned that her parents had once tried to hold a burial ceremony for her, believing she had died. A neighbor from her grandmother’s village stopped them, saying there was a chance she was still alive—even if they didn’t know where.
When she first spoke to her family on the phone, the moment overwhelmed her.
“After hearing I had found my family and talking to them, even before they came, I couldn’t eat. I just couldn’t swallow anything—only drink—because I couldn’t believe what was happening,” she says. “When they arrived, I didn’t recognize them—only the names were familiar. I never got to know my parents, because I was taken to my grandmother’s house when I was still a small child.”
The First Embrace in 28 Years
On April 15, 2022, Uwamahoro met her family for the first time since the Genocide. They traveled to Rubavu District to see her.
On May 29, 2022, leaders from Rubavu District, along with neighbors and friends, escorted her to Nyagatare District—back to her roots.
She admits she still had doubts at first.
“I wasn’t sure they were really my parents,” she says. “But when I saw my younger brothers, and noticed they looked like my own children—and that my kids looked like them too—that’s when I was sure.”
Late-Night Dancing and Healing
Once reunited, their home came alive with laughter, dancing, and late-night storytelling.
“Often, Mom and Dad would sit and start dancing, and we’d all join in. We’d go to bed around 11 p.m.,” she says. “Dad tells me stories from my childhood. Even if he was at a bar, he would leave with a bottle and come home so we could sit and talk. I found out that my mom and dad are beautiful parents—so loving. They always tell me I’m their firstborn and that nothing in this world could ever hurt me again.”
New Beginnings
Just eight months after finding her family, something unexpected happened—her parents helped her marry again. She now lives with a husband they approve of and support.
She regularly visits her parents, who live in nearby villages.
And she hasn’t forgotten the family that raised her. She thanks the people of Rubavu—the guardians, neighbors, and friends who stood by her. When she returned to Nyagatare, they gifted her two cows, which she now tends herself.
No Longer Silent
This year, as Rwanda commemorates the 31st anniversary of the Genocide against the Tutsi, Uwamahoro will no longer hide her story.
She will speak. She will remember. And, most importantly, she will remember with her family—no longer alone.
