HOW A SURVIVOR OF THE RWANDAN GENOCIDE IS NOURISHING THE NEXT GENERATION

When asked what he remembers about the night almost exactly 25 years ago that violence erupted in his country of Rwanda, Cedric Habiyaremye recalls the panic on his father’s face as he came running into the house, saying the family had to leave right away.

“I was only 7 years old, and I remember thinking, ‘What did my father do to get us in trouble?’ I didn’t understand what was going on.”

He’ll never forget the scene that greeted his family outside.

“What comes to mind is chaos. People screaming, running, hiding,” Cedric tells me. “Seeing dead people — people I used to play with.”

It was April 7, 1994. The day that civil war broke out in Rwanda. The genocide would leave more than 800,000 people dead.

Cedric and his family — his mother, father, and older brother — managed to survive. For nearly a month, they headed east on foot, hiding in the forests and bushes during the day when it wasn’t safe to be seen, and walking at night, protected by darkness. Crossing the border into Tanzania, they discovered a makeshift camp where thousands of Rwandan families had sought refuge.

Yet his story is not just one of survival. It’s also one of perseverance, passion, and the fulfillment of a pinkie promise he made with his brother shortly after their return to Rwanda.

I recently spoke with Cedric about his journey from refugee to agricultural researcher, his hopes for the future of Rwanda, and how he’s using alternative crops to nourish the next generation.

During the genocide in Rwanda in 1994, an estimated 250,000 Rwandans fled to Tanzania within 24 hours. (© UNHCR/P.Moumtzis)

What do you remember about your first night at the refugee camp after your family had escaped Rwanda?

Cedric: It’s hard to describe, but I remember feeling relief. Our first night was very peaceful. It was still horrible — life in a refugee camp wasn’t good — but what I remember is that there wasn’t any more running. No more hiding. I was finally able to sleep during the night instead of walking.

Of course we would have nightmares, but when you wake up, you realize there is no more screaming.

I can’t imagine the trauma that you and your family had endured. What was your day-to-day life like in the refugee camp? How did your family adjust?

I can’t call it day-to-day life because it wasn’t life. It was just survival. We would go fetch water and wait for food assistance from the World Food Programme. As kids, we would play on the ground or somewhere there was shade, but it was also hard to be able to play. We had no energy. There was boredom because you were not able to do anything. You felt stuck.

I missed living a normal life free of hardships. There was hunger and a high amount of disease and death due to poor hygiene and sanitation. I would reflect on my life before the genocide in Rwanda, how life was easy. I missed my friends, going to school, playing, just being happy.

How did humanitarian agencies like the World Food Programme (WFP), UNICEF, and UNHCR affect your family’s life in the refugee camp?

Cedric: Through their services and help, they saved my life, and the lives of a lot of people I know. There was no other source of food and shelter other than what those agencies were providing. The World Food Programme provided food, UNHCR provided shelter and blankets, UNICEF built schools.

I remember when we saw the WFP trucks, even though we would be like laying on the ground — no energy to play, or anything — whenever we saw the trucks, we would manage to stand up and run behind them, or just sing because it was the best feeling ever. It was so reassuring to know that there was food coming. Because, for us, that meant more days to live and be able to play.

People who have experienced hunger and starvation may understand that feeling. Even just knowing food is around the corner could reduce our despair.

“Even just knowing food is around the corner could reduce our despair.”

Rwandan refugees stand in a refugee camp in Tanzania on May 4, 1994 . Conditions in the overcrowded camps often led to the spread of disease and widespread suffering. (Photo by Scott Peterson/Liaison)

Shortly after Cedric’s family returned to Rwanda, his father went out one day in search of food and never returned. He and Cedric’s uncle were killed in the violence that plagued the country even after the genocide had ended.

It was also during this time that Cedric learned about more relatives, classmates and neighbors who had not survived the war — painful discoveries that only added to the trauma he had experienced during his family’s escape, when they had encountered other loved ones and friends either hiding like them, or lying dead where they had been killed.

“I started feeling like I should die too, that there was nothing left for me,” he recalled. “I felt like, Why am I still standing? What’s the point of existing anyway?”

During a particularly desperate moment, he and his brother had a conversation with their mother that would shape his fate.

Cedric: My mom saw that her boys felt lost. She sat me and my brother down and said, “I see you’re so desperate and feel like this is the end of your lives, but this not the end of the world. I see a lot of potential in you. You are the future of this country. You can save the world, you can save people’s lives.”

That was tough for me to hear. Those was strong words for a hungry, desperate child. I thought, you are telling me you know the future and we can save people’s lives, and we can’t even save ourselves? I still remember my reaction — and sometimes I feel bad about it — but I stood up and walked out of the room. I was like, No. It was too much.

She pulled me back to sit and she said, “I see you are upset, and that what I’m saying doesn’t make sense to you. But the only way to become the man you want to become and to make the impact you want to make in this world and in this country is to go to school and study.”

Again I thought, she’s talking about the future again, and school, and studying? I felt really angry and sat under the tree outside of the house, and I cried a lot. Because it was hard for me to digest, and it was very painful — someone telling you about the future and you don’t even know if you are going to live tomorrow because, at that point, we would spend two or three days without food.

“You are the future of this country. You can save the world, you can save people’s lives.”

But my brother was brave enough to stay there and listen to what she was telling him. And he came and sat down next to me afterward. We cried together until he was like, “Maybe she’s right? Let’s wait and see.” And I turned to him and said, “So now you are taking her side?” I thought they were teaming up against me. I remember saying in a very angry voice, “If you think she’s right, what do you want to do if we survive this?” And he said, “Dad was a pharmacist, and we have a lot of people dying around us. Maybe I will study pharmacy and be able to give medicine to people?”

He asked me, “So what about you?” And I told him, “We are hungry. We don’t have food. Maybe I’ll go to study agriculture and find ways to produce enough food so we won’t go to bed hungry anymore.” Then we did a pinky promise that we are going to stick to our dreams no matter what. But again, it was so scary. I was like, what I’m I signing up for?

On the left: Cedric stands with his older brother Rémy as boys in Rwanda. On the right: Cedric stands with his mother, Agnes, and his brother following Rémy’s college graduation. (Photo courtesy of Cedric Habiyaremye)

Cedric and his brother stayed true to their word. Thanks to a 25-cent loan from a family friend, Cedric started selling candy to help cover the costs of elementary school tuition and uniforms. He excelled academically, earning top grades in his class and ultimately a bachelor’s degree from the University of Rwanda.

His work with a local community organization called Building Brides with Rwanda to create kitchen gardens and composting projects would eventually lead to a scholarship at Washington State University, where he is currently finishing a PhD in crop sciences.

Last year, Cedric received the World Hunger Leadership Award for his work in agriculture and food security, and became the youngest member of the global agriculture task force for the Chicago Council of Global Affairs.

Yet while more than 70% of Rwandans work in the field of agriculture, malnutrition and stunting remain rampant. Cedric believes this can be traced, in large part, to a lack of dietary diversity and poor-quality crops. His answer? Quinoa. Known for its powerhouse nutrient profile, the crop includes all nine essential amino acids, making it an excellent source of protein. Cedric believes it has the potential to transform the way his country feeds itself.

In fact, he founded his own company — aptly named “Quinoa Hub” — to promote the crop’s research and production in Rwanda. And his efforts are gaining traction. He recently joined forces with the Peace Corps on projects to grow the South American superfood in some of the nation’s poorest regions.

Cedric: I realized that by introducing quinoa in Rwanda and teaching farmers how to grow and eat it, I could help contribute to the socioeconomic development and well-being of the people in my country. Nobody knew about it in Rwanda except expats who had lived abroad.

So at Quinoa Hub, we test a lot of quinoa varieties to see which one grows well in each of the agroclimatic zones of Rwanda. We are also working in close collaboration with some food processing companies to be able to make different quinoa products.

Cedric first learned about quinoa as a graduate student at Washington State University and began test-growing the crop at WSU’s Organic Farm. (Photo by Robert Hubner, WSU Photo Services)

What role do you think hunger and malnutrition play in a country’s development? Because I think what you are talking about — specifically malnutrition and not just hunger — is often overlooked.

I think food security and nutrition security are the pillars of development of any nation. Why? Because when people are healthy and well-fed that means they can work productively and you have a productive society, and they can take the country to the next level. Proper nutrition drives resiliency, stability, and prosperity.

Rwanda went through all of this tragedy and now the country is very stable. We have made remarkable progress, but if malnutrition and hunger are not addressed, our country will suffer in the long run. I like to refer to this book by Roger Thurow, “The First 1,000 Days,” that examines how malnutrition at a young age affects your brain development.

Cedric stands with his mother, Agnes, on a quinoa farm in Rwanda. His mother has become one of his most vocal advocates for the alternative crop, earning her the nickname “Queen of Quinoa.” (Photo courtesy of Cedric Habiyaremye)

What do you hope for the future of your country?

Cedric: What I wish for Rwanda is what I wish for Africa as a continent and also the world — for people to be happy and healthy and living in harmony. Because if your neighbor is not, then you are not going to be.

When I say I’m from Rwanda, a lot of people say, “Yeah, I know Rwanda. I’ve watched the movie called “Hotel Rwanda.” That’s the Rwanda they know. That’s the image of Rwanda they have. It’s been 25 years since then; a lot of things have changed. Rwanda has made a lot of progress with security, development, unity, and reconciliation, despite the tragedy we’ve faced. We don’t let our past define us as a nation. Instead, we learn from our past and strive for self-reliance and ensure that genocide never happens again. It’s time for people to understand that Rwanda in 2019 is not the same as Rwanda in 1994.

My wish for Rwanda is to be shining — despite the darkness we went through.

So right now I’m working on a legacy project to create opportunities for my peers and my fellow Rwandans. Because I know the doors I walked through, it’s because somebody opened those doors of opportunity for me. I want to also open those door wide for Rwandan youth who are committed to developing our country.

My wish for Rwanda is to be shining — despite the darkness we went through.