By Shallon Mwiza, The New Times

Esperance Mukayuhi, 42, a mother of four and a survivor of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, was left searching for the meaning of life in the aftermath of the tragedy that claimed many of her loved ones.

“I lost everyone, my parents, my brothers, my sisters. For years, I carried an emptiness that words couldn’t describe. I had no peace, no reason to wake up each morning. I used to wonder why I was still alive when my whole family was gone,” she says.

Her turning point came the day she attended an Ibuka meeting. Ibuka is the umbrella for organisations of survivors of the Genocide against the Tutsi. It was founded in 1995, just about one year after the Genocide.

“At first, I would see people attending those gatherings, but I never understood why. I heard they talked about unity and forgiveness, and I couldn’t make sense of it. I kept asking myself, ‘Why would I forgive people who killed my entire family?’”

It was only after a friend invited her to attend that she decided to go, just to listen. “When I saw others who had gone through the same pain, people who had lost entire families yet were still trying to rebuild their lives, something in me began to change. I realised I wasn’t alone.”

Through regular meetings, counselling sessions, and community visits, Ibuka became her safe space, a circle of survivors who understood her silence and shared her tears.

“In Ibuka, I found people who didn’t need me to explain my pain because they felt it too. Little by little, their strength became mine. I started to smile again, to speak again, to live again.”

Today, Mukayuhi calls Ibuka her second family.

“They helped me find peace within myself. I learned that surviving wasn’t a curse but it was a chance to carry forward the love and memories of those we lost. Ibuka gave me back my reason to live, and I realised that forgiveness is not only about forgiving others, but also about forgiving yourself.”

This year, on December 14, Ibuka will mark 30 years since it was founded. For three decades, Ibuka has been working towards advocacy for survivors’ rights, justice for victims, and the preservation of memory.

Speaking to The New Times, Philbert Gakwenzire, Chairperson of Ibuka, said the umbrella was born out of a collective determination to restore dignity to survivors and ensure the horrors of 1994 would never happen again.

“What began as a small movement of grief and solidarity has grown into one of Rwanda’s most influential civil society institutions, championing reconciliation and the pursuit of lasting peace,” he noted.

As Ibuka marks its 30th anniversary, he said reflections on its legacy highlight how remembrance has evolved into resilience, and how the organisation’s enduring work continues to inspire a nation that chose recovery over revenge.

“When Ibuka was founded, Rwanda was a nation in ruins. Thousands of survivors faced homelessness, poverty, and trauma. Many had lost entire families, property, and hope. Survivors were living in deep despair. Our first mission was to give them a reason to live again, to rebuild their lives and believe in the future.”

Ibuka sought to ensure that survivors’ voices were heard and that perpetrators were held accountable. However, as the scale of the crimes became evident, the formal courts were overwhelmed by the number of genocide-related cases.

At a time when formal justice systems were strained, Ibuka played a crucial role in promoting community-based justice through the Gacaca courts, a home-grown mechanism that allowed Rwandans to confront truth and accountability together.

“Justice and truth being the foundation of reconciliation, Ibuka’s involvement in Gacaca helped restore dignity to victims and rebuild trust in communities,” said Gakwenzire.

As the country stabilised, Ibuka’s work expanded from immediate recovery to safeguarding national memory, ensuring that Rwanda’s history remains for generations to come. Through genocide memorials, educational programmes, and commemoration events, the organisation has helped the nation reflect on the past while strengthening its moral foundation, the Chairperson said.

“We focus on history and memory because justice has a timeline, but memory does not, even when the survivors are no longer here, their story must live. It defines who we are as a nation.”

Thirty years later, Ibuka stands as a symbol of Rwanda’s transformation, and a reminder that even the darkest histories can give rise to light, said Gakwenzire.

A 34, Gido Uwikunda, a survivor of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, says his journey with Ibukatransformed not only his life but also his understanding of community, remembrance, and leadership.

“I grew up seeing my parents and neighbours attending Ibuka meetings. But back then, I thought it was something for older people. I didn’t see how it involved me.”

It wasn’t until later in life that Uwikunda began to grasp the deeper meaning of Ibuka. With encouragement from his father, he started attending meetings and soon found himself drawn to the organisation’s solidarity.

“What touched me most was the unity. Every meeting began with honouring the memory of those killed during the Genocide, and then we discussed how to support survivors, especially those without proper housing.”

As his involvement deepened, Uwikunda found belonging.

“Becoming a member helped me learn more about our history, resilience, and forgiveness. Each meeting left me with new knowledge and strengthened my sense of patriotism. We were encouraged to preserve the truth of our past to make sure what happened never happens again. In Ibuka, I found a family bound by shared pain, strength, and hope.”

In 2020, Uwikunda was elected president of Ibuka in Kimisagara Sector, Nyarugenge District, Kigali, a role that reshaped his outlook on leadership.

“From this position, I learned that leadership is not about titles, it’s about compassion and responsibility. It’s about standing by those you lead, listening to their struggles, and working together to find solutions,” he said.

Thirty years after its founding, according to him, Ibuka’smission to restore dignity, preserve memory, and promote justice, continues to live through survivors and reflects on Rwanda’s broader journey of turning remembrance into resilience, and survival into strength.