In 1994, at the onset of the genocide against the Tutsi, Eric Murangwa Eugene, then at the peak of his football career, found his teammates rallying to shield him from the militia as they hunted down 'enemies' house by house. In an interview with Africa Renewal's Zipporah Musau, he shares his survival journey and discusses his foundation's efforts to sensitize people about the impacts of the genocide. Here are excerpts from that interview:
I was born in Rwamagana, a small town in east of Rwanda. My family moved to Kigali when I was around 8 years old. I went to school and started my football career in Kigali.
I lived through the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi before moving to the UK. I am now in the process of relocating back to Rwanda.
When did your football career begin?
In high school. That is when I started playing for Rayon Sports - the biggest football club in the country.
It is 30 years since the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda. What do you remember about that night when all hell broke loose?
I was about 20 years old, and my football career had taken off. The country had been going through [civil] war since 1990 as a result of bad politics.
The killings began on the night of 6 April 1994[U1] , triggered by the shooting down of President Juvenal Habyarimana's plane as he was returning from Tanzania after participating in a summit of regional heads of state.
That incident was used as an excuse to start killing people. Initially, the militia targeted politicians seen as obstacles to the genocide campaign. On 7 April, the real genocide started with the killings extending to ordinary Tutsis and other civilians considered to be enemies of the State.
How did you survive it?
My first encounter was on 7 April, at around 1:00 pm when a group of about seven armed men came to our house in Nyamirambo, where I lived with my teammate. They asked for our identity cards, to determine if we were Tutsis.
Sports can help heal. The first public event in Rwanda that took place after the genocide was a football match between my former football club and the biggest rival club.
They ordered us to lie down and searched the bedrooms for weapons. We told them we were just sportsmen. They did not listen to us.
The militia who burst into my house to kill me spared my life when they saw my football photos
One of the soldiers held a bunch of photo albums that were in my bedroom. Photos were being used to identify 'enemies.' An album full of my football club photos slipped through his hands and fell on the floor, revealing a picture of me in a football kit. He recognized me from the photos.
"Are you Toto?" he asked. "Toto," which means 'young one,' was my nickname at the football club because I joined it at the age of 12.
"Yes," I replied. His facial expression suddenly changed. He no longer had that dangerous expression. He seemed to have recovered his humanity. He told me he was a huge fan of my football club and of me.
Two weeks earlier, my club had played a big African football championship match against Al-Hilal of Sudan, and we had eliminated them from the competition. We were preparing for the next round of the African Winners' Cup championship against Kenya Breweries FC.
So, he talked about that football match, reliving every moment of it. He would ask: Do you remember that goal? Do you remember the tackle or the save you made? The guy who had come to kill me became friendly. The album that fell next to me could have been a different one. The soldier could have been a fan of a different club.
Everything happens for a reason. But more importantly, that moment highlighted the power of sport and its ability to influence people. This evil person transformed because of the special relationship he had with me and his love of Rayon Sports Football Club. I did not feel it at the time, but my desire to use football as a tool for unity and peace was planted then.
That photo saved my life and the lives of my housemates and neighbours.
How my family survived the genocide
- I am the firstborn in a family of five boys and one girl. My family lived less than a mile from me. On the morning of 8 April, two days after the killing started, I had gone to check on them. I wanted to convince my parents to seek refuge in a nearby church compound that was housing many Tutsis. We believed churches were safe.
- As we got ready to go there, we heard gunshots in the neighborhood. My father told us not to venture outside and that we would rather die at home than on the streets. As Seventh-Day Adventists, praying was part of our daily life. My mother asked us to come together around the table and pray. I was shocked when my parents suggested that we should sing a song first before praying, given the situation we were in.
- After the prayers, I returned to my teammates. Three of them were Hutus and one was Tutsi. Radio broadcasts were telling Hutus to treat all Tutsis as their enemy but my teammates welcomed me, and we spent the next two to three weeks with them.
- My parents survived, miraculously. Things went out of control in the neighborhood; our neighbours became killers.
- My teammates would venture out to look for food and gather information on what was building up. They fed me throughout that time and extended that generosity to my parents as well.
- A few weeks after we arrived at the RPF zone, more survivors were brought in. One day my younger brother was brought in. Up until that moment, I did not know what had happened to them. I just assumed they had all been killed. Luckily, he and my parents had managed to get to St. Famille Cathedral from where my brother forced his way into the trucks transporting people to where I was.
- Luckily, Kigali city was liberated on 4 July. My parents and one other brother survived. The other younger siblings, both under 10 years of age, had been left in an orphanage. They survived too. My youngest sibling who had been visiting our cousin and his family near the airport was killed. He was only 7 years old. Overall, I lost more than 85 extended family members who lived in different towns and villages across Rwanda.
Was there another scary incident?
Yes. One early morning a group of militias abducted me from my teammates' house without anyone noticing. They took my wallet and asked whether the foreign currency inside was US dollars, and I said yes. They asked for more money. I said I could get more if they allowed me back to my house. I was trying to buy time before they could kill me.
When we came back to our house with all the commotion, my teammates woke up and bargained for my life. They gave the militia some money.
What was your next move?
My teammates advised me to stay with one of our football club officials who was one of key leaders of the militia. To my surprise, he agreed to look after me for a few days.
I stayed with him for a week or so. Being close to the regime, he got wind they were losing the war and he planned to run away. He offered to drop me anywhere I felt safe. He dropped me off at a makeshift Red Cross centre downtown, but they would not let me in.
I stayed by the gate for three days before we were taken to Hôtel des Mille Collines [of the Hotel Rwanda fame], which was guarded by UN peacekeepers. I stayed there until the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) negotiated our transfer to their zone. The UN peacekeepers made this arrangement possible.
When you moved to the UK you started the Ishami Foundation. What was the motivation behind that?
It is a way of giving back to society.
Ishami is a tree branch in Kinyarwanda. It symbolises resilience, recovery, and connection.
Our foundation draws on the experiences of genocide survivors to connect us all to our common humanity through sport and storytelling. Our vision is to promote equality, diversity, and lasting peace and teach young people to become engaged and responsible citizens who respect each other's differences.
Originally, the foundation was called Football for Hope, Peace and Unity.
In 2018, we changed its name to Ishami Foundation. The life of a tree symbolises what the nation of Rwanda has become after the genocide. A tree symbolises life, and life comes from the fruits that grow on the branches. The name reflects my story, my journey, and my country.
The incredible beliefs, values and principles that my teammates demonstrated were because of the power of sport. I wanted to use sport to contribute to the reconciliation and reconstruction of my country. I wanted to produce many more people like my teammates.
What are some of the specific activities of your foundation?
In collaboration with other organisations such as Coaches Across Continents we developed what we call 'Soccer for Social Impact' with programmes designed for young people to play football, learn life and entrepreneurship skills, be peacemakers and fight prejudice.
Also, I connected with Holocaust survivors in London and learned more about the Holocaust and the importance of storytelling. I began going to schools and local communities to share my story. Slowly, I started to introduce storytelling into our activities through a program known as 'Lessons from Rwanda.'
Eventually, we organized and structured our visits to schools and universities to share testimonies or run workshops on issues related to identity-based prejudice.
Use the lessons from Rwanda to better your communities. When you understand genocide and its causes, you will be able to prevent it.
As we grew, we managed to get some grants. Recently, we got a grant from the UK government to support a project called 100 'Stories from Rwanda.' It consists of a book, to be launched during Kwibuka 30; educational resources; and documentations that highlights the history of the genocide. These materials will be used in the Holocaust memorial that will be built in London in the next two or three years.
How can sports help people heal, and in what ways do you believe sports have contributed to healing and reconciliation in Rwanda?
I am a living example of what sports can do. After the genocide, the first thing I wanted to do was play football. Sports help you to be kind and tolerant.
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Sports allow people to feel empowered. You are likely to overcome challenges if empowered.
The first public event in Rwanda after the genocide was a football match between my former club Rayon Sports and its arch-rival - Kiyovu Sport. The game helped Rwanda and Rwandans to return to normality. Watching two football clubs and players who were still well-known in the country gave Rwandans hope. It was a powerful act of resilience.
I helped bring back surviving players who had fled the country.
After that match, the national team traveled to other parts of Africa and met Rwandans. They watched us play and were able to reconnect with their country. Most decided to return to Rwanda after meeting and talking to the players.
When genocide perpetrators were being reintegrated into society, the best way was through sports. If a perpetrator scored a goal, people cheered, not remembering his past.
What are some of the challenges you faced?
Moving to a foreign country meant a different experience, culture, language, and weather. Coming from a conflict-affected society, nobody knows your past or what you brought with you.
Again, leaving your family behind makes the situation difficult.
How are you using your foundation to raise awareness of the impacts of genocide?
We promote peacebuilding initiatives. Due to funding constraints, we have not been able to go to other countries in Africa. However, that is in the pipeline because our region--the Great Lakes region and the Horn of Africa -- are currently some of the most volatile in Africa. We can share experiences on peacebuilding, avoiding conflict, and overcoming the effects of conflict.
We also raise awareness on the denial of genocide, which can be another way of risking genocide happening again. If you deny historical facts like the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, you are likely to repeat the same mistakes again.
What is your message for Africa as we commemorate Kwibuka 30?
We must understand the meaning and importance of unity. When people are united, they overcome the challenges they face. With unity, Africa can be a prosperous and peaceful continent.
Thirty years ago, we did not think we would live with one another again, but we have managed to do so.
African countries and the whole world need to learn lessons from Rwanda.
'Never Again' should mean never again; it should not be a mere slogan.
