Culture and Ethnicity

While we were in Rwanda, we were assigned a paper on Rwandan culture and ethnicity. We were supposed to talk to our host family and other Rwandans about how they perceive their identity and what it means to be Rwandan. I had no idea how to approach this paper, especially because issues of identity are so sensitive here – it’s absolutely unacceptable to ask someone if they are Hutu or Tutsi – and my family had not been very open to discussing it. My family has always avoided answering any questions on identity, and at most repeated the official line that everyone is Rwandan now – that Hutu and Tutsi don’t matter any more. But I really have a hard time believing that people can so easily forget a classification that was once life or death, and which now, in the eyes of the outside world, separates victim from killer. Finally, after many attempts to steer the conversation in the direction of identity, we sort of stumbled on the topic unexpectedly, unintentionally, and at first jokingly. We ended up having a really amazing conversation, in which a lot of my questions about this issue were (mostly) resolved.

My host family was anticipating my return to the US, where they imagined that my friends and family would be curious about life in Africa. They were suggesting ways to describe Rwanda, and proposed, “Rwanda: the land of a thousand hills and a thousand problems.” I was so surprised that this was their immediate suggestion, because this is not at all how I see Rwanda, and all my previous conversations with my family and other Rwandans had led me to believe that the Rwandese were very proud of their development over the past fifteen years. My mother amended: “the land of a thousand hills, a thousand problems, and a thousand solutions.” But even then, my host father objected, “But those solutions are just solutions that we’re searching for, not solutions that we’ve actually implemented.” Again, I protested, and my mother began to describe what she called the “Rwandan mentality,” a will to constantly find solutions, move past old problems, and focus on the present. I asked whether Rwandans were finding solutions to their problems or trying to forget them, and she laughed as though she understood that I was hinting at the policy of creating a new Rwandese identity to replace Hutu and Tutsi identity. She told me that they’re trying to find solutions to all their problems, but some are so difficult that they have to just give up on finding a solution and try to forget about them instead. When I asked what those difficult problems are in Rwanda, she laughed so hard that I was sure she knew I suspected post-genocide recovery and identity was one of them. I believe she meant her answer to be a metaphor for the issue, but even if it wasn’t intended that way, I still think it’s an appropriate interpretation.

She told me that sometimes people don’t have enough food to eat multiple meals a day, but even if you’re hungry, you can still bathe, put on clean clothes, and go out into the world as though you’re fine. It isn’t necessary, she said, to sit around and cry about being hungry, nor is it important to tell everyone that you’re hungry. Even if you never forget that you’re hungry, you can’t allow it to keep you from moving forward in life. This seems to me to perfectly describe Rwanda’s attitude to the genocide and Hutu/Tutsi divisions: even though people will never forget the genocide, and will likely remember their identity as either Hutu or Tutsi, they are trying to keep those problems of the past from destroying their future.

In an ideal world, it would be possible to erase the distinction between Hutu and Tutsi, and to include everyone in a positive Rwandan identity. Rwanda simply can’t rebuild on the identity of Hutu and Tutsi, because those groups have become much too closely associated with genocidaires and victims, respectively. I think that my family has been so reluctant to tell me which group they belonged to because they are expecting me to judge them or make assumptions about their experience during the genocide based on that classification. One of our lecturers told us that people have positive views of what it means to be “Rwandan,” but rely on stereotypes to describe “Hutus” or “Tutsis.”

Because the “Rwandan” identity wasn’t imposed by a colonial power or the outside world, I think it’s much more likely to be accepted than assignments of Hutu and Tutsi based on nose size, height and number of cattle. Especially given Rwanda’s experience with international interventions (the UN Mission during the genocide, UNAMIR, basically couldn’t do anything because of its limited mandate; the French Operation Tourquoise did nothing to stop the killings and let all the genocidaires get safely out of the country), it’s understandable that Rwandans would opt for a solution that comes from within. As the lecturer explained, “we alone know best where we come from, and we alone know where we want to go.” In an ideal world, we wouldn’t even notice our hunger and it wouldn’t prevent us from being productive members of society.

But just like it’s impossible to fully forget that your stomach’s empty, this idea of patching up Hutu and Tutsi tensions with an inclusive Rwandan identity isn’t going to be easy. One of the main problems, as I see it, is that it’s only being implemented in Rwanda itself, not among the Rwandan diaspora, including the many refugee camps in the region. Hutu and Tutsi identities are still relevant in other countries, such as Burundi and if Rwanda succeeds in convincing refugees other countries (such as Uganda) to return, it will have to find a way to integrate people who are in those camps because they fear persecution as a Hutu. Maybe the fact that all Rwandans speak Kinyarwanda will help the country create a unitary identity of Rwandans-as-Kinyarwanda-speakers. But then that identity would exclude those who have lived abroad and learned Kiswahili or other foreign languages.

Not to mention the fact that many people within Rwanda are still struggling to move on from the genocide. Just as you never forget your hunger, so have Rwandans not yet found a way to forget that they are Hutu or Tutsi. My friend’s sister, who is Tutsi, told my friend that her boyfriend is “different” from her – which was clearly a euphemism for Hutu. It’s so strange to me that she was not even able to say it outright, but then people can turn around and say that Hutu/Tutsi distinctions don’t matter. She also said that if her parents knew she was dating him, they would disown her. I hope that this speaks more to a generational gap than a deep-rooted inability to overcome prejudices. The fact that she is able to date him means that she at least is able to see beyond Hutu and Tutsi, even though she is definitely old enough to have lived through the genocide.

In the end, I think it’s still important to implement these policies, and to be patient – just as the hungry person should still live his or her life, not sit at home and cry. It took many people a long time to make Hutu and Tutsi identities meaningful, and to manipulate them to the point that one group would attempt to completely eliminate the other. Of course it’s going to take a long time to undo that work. One of the contradictions of constructivist theory is that it assumes that identities are fluid and subject to change, that we can “construct” identity - but then that these identities become solidified and cannot be changed. If colonial authorities could construct the Hutu and Tutsi identities, this binary can be deconstructed by Rwandans.

When I see Rwandan art and dance, I’m most confident that Rwandans can be united. The Rwandans are so proud of their traditional dances – as one of our lecturers, told us, Rwanda often wins international prizes for their dance. As I mentioned before, dance would be such a great tool for recovery because it can be a really inclusive activity. Dance is a really essential part of what it means to be Rwandan. Art and dance existed long before the colonial era – before Hutu and Tutsi meant more than an economic distinction – and art actually apparently had a hard time during the colonial period. Art is a common, shared experience, that has the potential to unite people despite all obstacles. In the end, even though I think that Rwanda hasn’t fully accomplished its goals, and that there are many challenges ahead (such as including refugees), I agree with the idea of diminishing the importance of Hutu and Tutsi, and I think it’s possible.