On this date of 4th July, 27 years ago, we – the troops of the Rwanda Patriotic Army (RPA), the armed wing of the Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF) – victoriously marched into the city of Kigali, but in a somber and dark mood.

Unlike video news and documentaries showing celebrations of supporters to liberators taking over capital cities elsewhere; unlike the cheering, chanting and huge support showcased by Kigalians in December 1993 for the RPF politicians and soldiers of the 3rd Battalion who had moved to the capital city for the creation of the broad-based transitional government, the fall of Kigali was not at all celebratory.    

We were the first-hand witnesses of the unspeakable: human corpses thrown all over the country, hills, valleys, swamps and on streets. 

Many of these dead bodies of genocide victims were descrated, discarded, dismembered and burned with a clear sign of extreme violence, far beyond the necessary to cause death. 

We faced survivors who were physically and psychologically damaged, we were standing by hopeless communities and destroyed homes, looted shops and offices.

This wasn’t my city; it was far from my beloved Kigali. It was a ghost city.

Born and bred in Kigali’s Nyamirambo suburb, which I left to join the struggle for the liberation in 1992, I had lost any hope of finding my family or relatives alive.

That hope was wiped in Kiziguro, eastern Rwanda, where I saw the large scale of mass killings and heard stories of horrified survivors.

That hope was completely slashed in Kayonza, at Mukarange Catholic Parish, after looking at thousands human corpses piled like cooking wood.

We were following news on radio whenever time permitted and learned other battlefields news from commanders and communications operators. My neighbourhood in Kigali was far from taken by our advanced units and so my family was unlikely to survive. 

I remained motivated by the fact that we could, at least save other victims on the way to the capital city. And that was the case on the whole itinerary taken from Muhambo in Umutara region by the unit I belonged to – 7th Battalion led by (late) Colonel William Bagire (also known as Tiger One) - in Kiziguro, Kayonza and areas in between, with thousands of people coming from hideouts after learning about our arrival.

Rwamagana was a special case because we took it by surprise, not only to the enemy but ourselves too. 

As we camped in our fighting entrenchments in Kayonza town, on that 20th day of April 1994, the government forces attacked as it had been the case for couple of days. We fought for almost the whole day and in the afternoon, as they started to retreat to their positions a few kilometers back, we were ordered to chase them and we did, furiously. 

On a lighter note, it was fun to run after fleeing state forces – yes, battlefields can be fun, of course when you are on the winning side…but hadn’t they been always bragging about being trained and supported by the French military and equipped with modern weaponry! 

The fight continued on the run and those running forces had already communicated to their follows in Rwamagana to retreat. Few hours later we had taken that town by total surprise. 

We found victims assembled at Rwamagana hospital (many of them tied up) and surrounding areas to be killed instantly. The killers couldn’t help but run for their lives. 

On the eve of the fall of Kigali, as I had been deployed in the newly formed 5th Battalion, led by (late) Lieutenant Colonel Mugabo, I was shot (near my Kivugiza primary school) and, with other injured comrades, were evacuated for treatment. Our sick bay was a home situated in a banana plantation, a location of today’s sports view Kicukiro. 

Later in the night we started hearing news of withdrawing government forces who were only relying on Mount Kigali to maintain their presence after Mount Rebero and Mount Jali were strategically taken by the RPA troops.

For many people, the fall of Kigali was signaled way before, when the Kanombe Military Barracks and the airport - which is in the same vicinity- fell in the RPA’s hands on 22nd May. 

When we attacked that barracks few days before, some of us who grew up in Rwanda hearing stories of special forces and highly trained dreadful para commandos of ‘Camp Kanombe’ could hardly hide our fears. 

On our arrival near the barracks from Kabuga, we faced a primary obstacle of fighting bees as the surrounding eucalyptus woods was full of beehives. We made smoke to chase them away.

Learning that our Chief of High Command or Afande PC – as we affectionately called then Major General Paul Kagame – had moved his quarters in Musha (currently in Rwamagana District), near us was morale boosting for all the soldiers. 

Kanombe's ‘formidable’ commandos were quick to run, leaving behind so much supplies of different types as the barracks was also the logistic hub of the entire army. 

Afande Bagire was jubilating and granted us a short break. For the first time in almost three months of campaign against genocidal forces, we bathed, wore new uniforms, relaxed and shared proper meals with survivors from the neighbourhood. 

Less than 48 hours later, that break was interrupted for a new deployment (another story for another day) on the assembly called by ‘Tiger One’ in the early hours of the morning.

As mine was minor injury in the arm – in that case soldiers would joke that it was a friendly shot by the enemy – in the morning of 4th July I was assigned (with a vehicle and six soldiers) to scout the city and collect medical supplies for our sick bay in Kicukiro. I fulfilled that mission and took the opportunity to visit Kigali neighbourhoods in search of relatives or family friends or their whereabouts. 

From Kigali city center to Kiyovu, Gikondo, Nyarurama, Kimisange, Kivugiza, Mumena, Bereshi, Nyakabanda, Biryogo, Rwampara…. all I could see was a shattered city in the state of desolation. 

As predicted, my home had been destroyed. The whole compound looked like a dirty football pitch. Inquiring about parents, two brothers and my sister, neighbours stated that they know nothing as they were "sick” and "bedridden”.

In the following days, I learnt about and found my surviving mother at Ndera Minor Seminary among displaced persons. 

Devastated and ravaged communities by war and the Genocide against the Tutsi, especially through the eyes of the few remaining people as many others were killed, fled or internally displaced.

For over three decades of massacres, persecution and discrimination based on the so called "races” and regions, denying refugees the right to homeland, and many other misuse and abuse of power, we were simply fed up.       

We had a valid cause of fighting for the liberation and freedom of Rwanda, we were young and highly motivated, we had no plan B – victory was not optional. 

Military analysts across the world would later define our victory as based to three key factors: leadership, discipline and commitment to a cause. 

Our then military prowess has been multiplied so many times. Today’s women and men uniforms are highly trained and well equipped to defend our motherland.

We have more reasons to celebrate the annual liberation day, every 4th July. Even if virtually, we remain Inkotanyi cyane. 

Unlike 1994 and despite this global pandemic of COVID-19, this liberation day 2021 isn’t going uncelebrated, thanks to social media and other online platforms.

Those who had visited us in the bush knew that songs were part and parcel of Inkotanyi’s struggle. We sang all the time, in the morning jog, in evening’s civic and political conversations (known as kitamadhuni), at various tasks, we sang even on and after the battlefields…most of the time telling Afande PC that we made it despite a scorching sun, hunger, etc…. (in Kiswahili it went: Kazi uliyotutuma Afande tumemalizaaa, na Juwa ilikuwa mingi, na njaa ilikuwa mingi lakini tukavumiliyaa, kaaazi, uliyotutuma mzeee tumemaliza). 

But marching on Kigali city, we couldn’t sing. Not with what we have witnessed along the way. Not with these devastated people. After all, we were only Jeshi la wanainchi (people’s army).

On this date in 1994 we were somber, but are sober today and standing tall to celebrate our victory against the evil, reminding the world our reasons of taking up arms.

To the fallen comrades, your death was never in vain, keep resting in peace.

To the women and men still serving in uniforms, thank you is an understatement.

To the youth enlisting today, yesterday and tomorrow, this country is yours to protect and cherish.

Salute to you all comrade in arms. #Kwibohora27

Happy liberation day to all of you dear compatriots and friends of Rwanda.

Martin Semukanya  is a Journalist and Media Consultant

Twitter: @semukanyam