(The following information is excerpted and lightly edited from my dissertation, Mbwirabumva [“I Speak to Those Who Understand”], copyright © 2013.)
This overview of Bikindi’s life is based on ICTR documents, trial testimony,[1] and personal conversations with Bikindi and former members of his most famous troupe, Itorero Irindiro.
Childhood
Bikindi was born on September 28, 1954 in Rwerere commune,[2] located in the far northwest part of the country near the large town of Gisenyi. Like most Rwandans, his was a peasant family, living off the food they reaped from the land surrounding their home. His father, Pierre Manzi, also worked as a blacksmith, and both parents brought in some income as musicians. Manzi could play inanga, a trough-shaped zither-like instrument found throughout much of Sub-Saharan Africa and especially popular in Rwanda. When not working on his farm or at his forge, Manzi entertained friends and guests at gatherings and festivals. A precocious boy, Bikindi learned to play inanga from his father and soon achieved a level of mastery. The instrument would be featured in many of his later recordings, including “Akabyutso.”
It was his mother, Marie Nyirakamondo, however, who was his greater influence. She was a popular singer and dancer throughout the local area, invited regularly to perform at parties, dowry rituals and weddings, funerals, birth celebrations, and harvest festivals. Bikindi wistfully described to me his mother’s talents as follows:
If you had ever listened to her, you would love her. Not many people had a voice like hers. She would receive many gifts because of her talent. Her voice was so beautiful, it was not surprising that some men would give her gold or a cow…I am sure that I was inspired to love music because of my mother.[3]
When Nyirakamondo performed, she took her son along with her, pointing out other musicians and dancers whom she considered to be especially skilled, then instructing Bikindi as to what made them so good. When they returned home, she would then have her try to imitate what he observed. It was so important to her that Bikindi learn to dance and perform music that she allowed him to skip chores as long as he spent the time practicing. Bikindi inherited from his mother a vast repertoire of imigandi, long narrative poems interspersed with songs. Through the local Catholic bishop, she found Bikindi a drumming instructor. He also learned to play other traditional instruments and became especially fond of the single-stringed fiddle called iningiri. Around the time Bikindi was in his second year of primary school (about age 7 or 8), a local male dance-music troupe known as intore[4] formed in his area and Bikindi was chosen as its first member.
The various features, styles, techniques, and themes of traditional Rwandan (and for that matter, much African) music and dance in which Bikindi was deeply immersed as a child would later provide a rich pool of inspiration for his own original work. These include, in no particular order, the use of traditional instruments, though often blended with electric guitar, bass, and drum set; archaic poetry and proverbs that are often difficult for even Rwandans to discern; a heavy emphasis on historical narrativity, especially stories about the deeds and successions of various kings and other rulers; dramaturgy, in which songs feature an unfolding plot relayed by various characters narrating and dialoguing with one another over musical accompaniment (e.g., “Intabaza”); moral didacticism; call-and-response sections between soloist and choir, oftentimes such that the choir symbolizes society as a whole; the use of certain meters, especially 5/8 (e.g., “Twasazareye”), characteristic of much traditional music; pentatonicism; cyclical forms; and heavy use of ostinato.
Adolescence
In 1967, around the age of 13, Bikindi was chosen to participate in a professional troupe that was slated to tour in Canada, but prizing formal education as he did, he declined the opportunity in order to prepare for entrance exams to secondary school. He went on to attend Collège Inyemeramiho in Gisenyi where he earned the favor of one of the teachers, Valens Kajeguhakwa. Kajeguhakwa recognized Bikindi’s talents, not just as a musician and dancer, but also as an actor. He took Bikindi under his wing, provided him further training, and placed him in the main roles in school plays. Over forty years later, Bikindi still feels much gratitude and affection for Kajeguhakwa, telling me that “without him, it would not be the same.”
After three years, Bikindi transferred to Groupe Scolaire, a secondary school in the far northern town of Byumba. Though he took his studies seriously—“I was a sharp guy,” he says—he continued with his artistic pursuits. After classes, he would entertain his peers with musical performances. He joined a group of musicians from among his classmates with whom he performed and shared ideas. They soon came to regard Bikindi as the group’s leader. He began to record a number of songs. A few of these, such as “Marigarita,”[5] a song about his friend’s attempts to woo a girl, became local hits.[6] He also produced plays for the community, employing his friends as actors and costume and set designers.
By his third year at Groupe Scolaire, he formed a more official theatrical organization called EJC (Equipe des Jeunes Collaborant, or “The Collaborating Youth Team”). The formation of EJC provided Bikindi with invaluable organizational and administrative experience that would serve him well throughout his career. Bikindi scoured the school’s library to find plays to produce, and soon EJC was producing a play every quarterly term. The troupe quickly rose to popularity throughout the northern and central regions of Rwanda, much in part because their productions were used teach people French. They were invited to perform at schools in other towns[7] and, on one occasion, were asked to perform at the Centre Culturel Franco-Rwandan, an event that Bikindi claims did much to boost his reputation.
He noticed, however, that there needed to be something to entertain audiences during intermissions, and so he organized a dance-music troupe from among his classmates. The student body was comprised of students hailing from various regions and clans throughout Rwanda, each of which featured its distinctive styles of dance. Bikindi purposefully chose students representing different regions and clans in order to display their styles of dance for one another and for their audiences. This foreshadowed an important feature of Bikindi’s later artistic output in that his lyrics and choreography would explicitly transcend regional and clan favoritism, a salient dynamic of Rwandan political life that Bikindi has long believed to be one of the main instigators of political division and violence.
Early Adulthood and Professional Life
Bikindi spent four years at Groupe Scolaire, after which he enrolled in the prestigious National University of Rwanda, located in the southern town of Butare. He chose to focus on linguistics, geography, and history, but around the time he was preparing for his first term’s exams, he became severely ill (Bikindi has suffered from health-related problems throughout much of his life and was eventually diagnosed with diabetes). He was allowed to take the exams in bed, after which he was rushed to the hospital and nearly died. Sadly, he failed his exams and had to drop out of school. Considering all that he had previously accomplished at Groupe Scolaire, the school’s director, Yongen Mansuy, extended an invitation to return and take on a paid faculty position, teaching music, dance, and theater to the older students.
In 1977, while performing for a government conference held in the school’s auditorium, Bikindi earned the recognition and admiration of the recently appointed Minister of Youth and Culture,[8] Siméon Nteziryayo. The previous year, in efforts to bolster support for the new Habyarimana regime, instill nationalist pride and unity among the citizenry, and bring wider international attention to Rwandan culture, the Ministry of Youth and Culture formed a national dance-music troupe called Urukerereza.[9] The troupe already had a director, Jean-Baptiste Nkurikiyinka, but Minister Nteziryayo requested that Bikindi come and assist in its training. On October 2, 1977, Bikindi assumed his new post at the ministry where he was assigned to the Division of Folklore and Ballet. Besides assisting in the training of Urukerereza, he was given the job of supervising prefectural and communal troupes from which the most outstanding members would be chosen to participate in Urukerereza. He was also put in charge of overseeing various student and community organizations committed specifically to either dance, choral, drumming, or other types of instrumental performance. In 1980, Bikindi then took a two-year hiatus from his work and traveled to Cameroon where he studied business administration.
1985 was an especially important year for Bikindi. He was promoted to supervisor of cultural activities. 1985 was also hailed by the United Nations as International Youth Year. Conferences, festivals, and other activities were held throughout the world in an effort to promote peace, civility, and good citizenship among young people. Inspired by this, Bikindi decided to form a junior national troupe called Indangamirwa.[10] He especially hoped to recruit homeless youth and orphans, though he selected anyone whom he deemed to be remarkably gifted. He organized a group of six to eight talent scouts who traveled from region to region and school to school to hold tryouts. Those who were chosen spent several months a year under Bikindi’s direction at a government-sponsored training facility located in the urukari, the old monarchial palace in Nyanza. They lived together in dormitories, had all their food provided for them, and continued to receive schooling when not practicing and rehearsing for upcoming performances. Under Bikindi’s leadership, Ndangamirwa soon developed into a topnotch group, touring internationally to places like Italy andCôte d’Ivoire.
Bikindi the Celebrity
In order to raise interest in the performing arts among Rwanda’s youth, Bikindi organized numerous competitions and cultural festivals. To garner wider participation, he took to advertising on the radio, opening up a new career path which he used not just to promote these events, but his own performances as well. Some of his ads were quite straightforward. One radio ad, for example, simply said: “Bikindi hereby announces to the people of Kigali that he’s organizing a performance of Irindiro ballet at the Centre Culturel Franco-Rwandan on the first of July!” But many of his ads were quite novel in how he drew upon his experience in theater to create short dramas that piqued his audience’s interests. He described one of his ads to me as follows:
There is Mr. X or Mrs. X who goes and meets Mr. or Mrs. Y and asks, “Why are you in a hurry? Why are you in a rush?”
He acknowledges him and says, “Hello.”
“But why are you in hurry?”
“No, I am going to buy the ticket to go and watch the performance of the ballet at the national centre, the Irindiro ballet, and I don’t want to miss that show.”
“Oh, so the Irindiro ballet is performing on that date? Oh, really? Well, since I’m on my way to the market, I will also go first and buy a ticket before I go to the market later on.”
Bikindi also deployed more metaphorical language in some of his ads. For example, in one ad, he talked about a tree that was “twisted” and therefore its wood not fit for use. The insinuation was that the youth were like that twisted tree, but if they would attend the cultural festivals, they would be “straightened out” and better able to contribute to their community in positive ways.
Bikindi developed a reputation as a masterful publicist, receiving a special award from Radio Rwanda for his creative methods of advertising. He is still very proud of this recognition, exclaiming to me, “I was the first person to make this kind of ‘dynamic publicity’ in Rwanda!” Soon, businesses sought out Bikindi and paid him to produce radio ads on their behalf. To help meet the increasing demand, he employed the well-known musician, actor, and Radio Rwanda associate, André Sebanane,[11] to assist in his productions. The two developed a close friendship and professional alliance that lasted until the genocide. Sebanane was Tutsi and was murdered during the genocide, an event that still deeply grieves Bikindi.
Musical Output and Compositional Approach
Bikindi estimates that he composed between forty to sixty songs throughout his career. His music is influenced by both traditional and contemporary popular musical idioms. He is also both an intellectually and emotionally driven composer. For inspiration, Bikindi says he draws upon his personal feelings, experiences, and analysis of society and politics, striving to attain just the right musical and poetic form that he believes will be the most effective in expressing himself. When asked during his trial what inspires him to compose, he replied:
I can classify inspiration under two points—well, not strictly under two points, but principally under the following points. The inspirational process can stem from what I feel inside me, an emotion that takes hold of me. When I talked about my friend [Sebanane], I was overcome by such an emotion, and this is not the first time I am composing a song in his honor. So, inspiration can stem from an inward form of suffering or distress that might be given rise to by an external factor or an event that is lived—an event which is lived at the moment in time we are talking of, or at a previous moment in time. If I sing “Marigarita,” if I were to describe how—well, I would refer to that person’s behavior that I appreciated greatly when we came together and met, but also there will be other factors contributing to my songs that will come from my personal mindset.
The second origin of the inspirational process might come from the outside and might affect me very profoundly in such a manner that it gives rise to a reaction that, in turn, elicits within myself emotion. I don’t quite know how this occurs for other people, but for a musician, I feel the need to express myself. And the feelings, the words with which to express those feelings, can come out immediately. And that is how an artist comes to compose a song. It might be that such a state of mind does not come about immediately and that I might keep this inside myself and let it mature so that subsequently I might externalize this emotion, and the words for expressing it will then come easily.
“Twasazareye” and the Founding of Itorero Irindiro
Bikindi composed “Twasazareye” in late-1986, the first of three songs for which he would be indicted. He wrote the song for a competition held in January 1987 to commemorate Rwanda’s silver jubilee. The jury awarded first prize to Bikindi and selected his song to be performed at a national celebration held on July 5 at Amahoro Stadium in Kigali, the grandest stadium in Rwanda. Troupes from throughout Rwanda, altogether consisting of 1,500 dancers, singers, and instrumentalists, were chosen to perform.
That same year, an elderly dancer who had participated in the jubilee celebration approached Bikindi with the idea of forming a private troupe. He was from Shyorongi, a commune just northwest of Kigali, and he told Bikindi that there were many talented performers near his home who would like to participate in a professional-quality troupe. There were few privately run troupes in Rwanda at that time. Most were affiliated with local schools and communities. The idea of having a private troupe, not beholden to anyone else’s agenda, was an intriguing prospect, and in 1989, Bikindi and a few others formed Itorero Irindiro[12] (also Irindiro ballet or, simply, Irindiro), with Bikindi serving as its president.
In early September 1990, Pope John Paul II visited Rwanda. According to a former member of Irindiro who spoke with me under condition of anonymity, the senior national troupe, Urukerereza,was invited to perform, as was Bikindi; however, the junior troupe, Indangamirwa, of which Bikindi was still in charge, was told to stay home. I was unable to confirm this with Bikindi, but if true, it would have been a major insult. In a tiny nation where the vast majority of the population is Catholic, a visit from the pope—especially John Paul II, who was revered by many Africans for his attentiveness to the continent—was a very special occasion, and the opportunity to perform before him was a great honor. Bikindi remained employed in the Ministry, but he began to focus his attention less on the national troupe and more on Irindiro, which now included members of both Urukerereza and Ndangamirwa. Bikindi paid the members of Irindiro 200 Rwandan francs (roughly 35 cents) for each day they spent in rehearsals and performances.[13] Irinidiro quickly became the nation’s favorite troupe and Bikindi one of its favorite musicians. One United Nations official went so far as to characterize him as “Rwanda’s Michael Jackson.”[14]
Economic Collapse, Multipartyism, Civil War, and Genocide
Bikindi’s work began to take on a more overtly political tone as Rwanda descended into political and economic chaos during the early 1990s. In 1991, he composed a set of eight songs denouncing the RPF and calling on the military to defend the country. From March to April 1993, a month after the RPF had broken a cease-fire agreement, Bikindi composed and recorded a triptych of songs. The first was “Akabyutso” (“The Alert”), then “Intabaza” (“The Awakening”), followed by the brief “Mbwirabumva” (roughly translated as “I speak to those who understand”). He recorded these and a few other songs at Audiotex, a studio in Kigali, and released them on cassette. Around six months later, he followed up this album by composing and recording “Amahoro” (“Peace”), a song in which he begged Rwandans to come together and cease with violence. Not being able to afford boom boxes, most Rwandans heard Bikindi’s songs on Radio Rwanda or the more recent RTLM, which began broadcasting on July 8, 1993. “Akabyutso,” “Intabaza,” and “Twasazareye” led to Bikindi’s indictment; the rest of Bikindi’s musical output in which he pleads for peace and unity was ignored by the ICTR’s Prosecution team n.
During field research, I met separately with three former members of Irindiro: a female Tutsi singer, a Hutu drummer, and a Twa dancer. In my conversations with them, I attempted to find out how Bikindi treated members of the troupe and if he ever favored Hutu or discriminated against Tutsi. Both the Hutu drummer and the Twa dancer denied that Bikindi did. The dancer stated as follows:
I don’t see Bikindi as a tribalist. He was a realist. [With us], his only consideration was whether you knew how to sing well, whether you knew how to dance well—that’s all he saw. If you messed up, you were punished because of your mistake, not because of your tribe.[15]
The Tutsi singer likewise denied that Bikindi displayed any overt discrimination. She claimed that he treated her kindly, but as the social and political situation deteriorated and anti-Tutsi propaganda began to spread throughout the early 1990s, several Hutu members began harassing and threatening the Tutsi. According to this woman, Bikindi did not want these tensions to disrupt the troupe’s activities, but rather than clamp down on the behavior of the bullies, he encouraged the Tutsi members to leave. I was unable to corroborate her claims with anyone else.
Bikindi’s activities from late 1993 through the genocide constitute the crux of his trial, and therefore more detailed attention will be given to this period of his life in Chapter 3. For now, I would add that on April 4, 1994, just two days before Habyarimana was killed and the genocide began, Bikindi took twenty members of Irindiro on tour in Europe. They broke off their tour when they learned of the massive violence ravaging their nation but were unable to return to Rwanda till mid-June.
On July 14, 1994, by which time the RPF had taken over Rwanda, Bikindi and his first wife’s family fled with hundreds of thousands of other Rwandans to the Mugunga refugee encampment in Goma, Zaïre.[16] It was a miserable place, but Bikindi continued his musical activities, forming choirs and dance troupes, performing for the orphanage that had been set up in the camp, and doing what he could through music and drama to lift people’s spirits. Several years later,[17] he was approached by document forgers from Côte d’Ivoirewho, in exchange for a large sum of money, offered to forge papers for him that would allow him to travel to and settle in Europe. Desperate to escape the encampment, Bikindi took them up on their offer. Since it is much easier for refugees to find safe haven in other countries if they have family already living there, Bikindi believed that if he could take up official residence in Europe, his family would soon be able to join him. In April 2001, he flew from Abidjan to Paris, then took a train to the Netherlands where he spent two or three nights at a refugee resettlement center in Zwolle. While there, two French journalists who were preparing a documentary on the genocide approached him and informed him that he was being accused of genocide for his songs and that the RPF was searching for him. Soon after that, he was transferred to a refugee center in Leiderdorp where, on July 12, 2001, he was arrested by Dutch police and handed over to ICTR officials.
As for his immediate family, Bikindi has two wives. He married his first wife, Apolline Uwimana, on February 13, 1980. She was a civil servant in the Ministry of Planning as well as a proprietor of a bar and grill in Byumba where the couple had a home.[18] It is not clear from trial documents how many children they had and I did not have a chance to ask Bikindi, but Uwimana’s testimony mentions three children who were injured during the war. On the evening of April 7, 1994, with her husband away on tour, Uwimana took her children and fled from Byumba to Kigali. President Habyarimana had been killed the night before. The news was that violence was rapidly spreading and that the RPF had launched a new offensive in the northern region where Byumba was located. She was unaware that things were just as bad in Kigali. By April 13, the RPF had Kigali under siege and were shelling the capital with mortars. One exploded very close to where they were taking refuge at a friend’s home, injuring the children. Wounds to two of the children were minor, but her daughter, Anita Kankindi, suffered a dangerous skull fracture that required immediate evacuation to Central Hospital-Kigali. The RPF soon began shelling the hospital as well. As soon as Anita was stabilized, Uwimana took her children to Nyundo, a village near Gisenyi. The region had not yet fallen to the RPF, and so they waited there for their father’s return while Anita received treatment at a local hospital.
Uwimana is Hutu. Bikindi’s second wife, Angeline Mukabanana, is Tutsi. In 1979, she was employed at the Ministry of Youth and Culture as an archivist. Later, she worked under Bikindi as one of his talent scouts. The two fell in love, but because the Catholic Church does not endorse polygamy, they never formally married though still considered one another as husband and wife. She had a child from a previous marriage and then bore two more children with Bikindi. Uwimana accepted the new marriage and was friendly with Mukabanana and her children. They lived near one another in Byumba.
During the genocide, Mukabanana lost her parents, siblings, and many friends. She too was beaten and nearly died. After the genocide, she decided to return to Kigali and continue working for the Ministry of Youth and Culture, now under the control of the RPF. Being a Tutsi survivor of the genocide, she felt she had little reason to fear any repercussions, but almost immediately upon her return, while still in a state of shock of recovery, she was imprisoned by the RPF and interrogated about her husband. She asserted his innocence. In her ICTR testimony she stated, “I told [my interrogators] that if Bikindi had ever dared to kill Tutsis, then there was no way I could forgive him for that. I told them that I had never seen him display hatred against anyone, and it was not the time to start ascribing things to him he had not done.” Mukabanana was released from prison. She went back to work in the Ministry, but her colleagues began harassing her. At the time, the Ministry was preparing to publish a book in which Bikindi would be denounced. Her superiors questioned her about her husband, and again, she asserted his innocence. As a result, she was dismissed from her job. She was then imprisoned a second time, though only for a day. After the 2003 presidential elections, she was then imprisoned a third time, claiming that it was because she did not vote for Kagame even though voting was supposedly done through secret ballot. Finally, on March 15, 2006, she fled Rwanda and settled in Kampala.
When asked during the trial if Bikindi belonged to Interahamwe, Mukabanana responded, “If ever I had seen any sign in his home giving me the impression that he was Interahamwe, I would never have lived with him and I wouldn’t be testifying today.” Besides Mukabanana, the family’s housemaid, Mariya, was Tutsi. In the Mugunga refugee encampment, Bikindi adopted a 10-year-old orphaned girl, Chantal, also Tutsi. Later, it was discovered that Chantal’s mother and grandparents were still alive, and Bikindi and Uwimana were able to help the young girl reunite with her family. When the home of a Tutsi neighbor was looted by Interahamwe members, Bikindi tracked down the thieves and convinced them to return her property. Bikindi’s troupes have always included Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa. During the genocide, he checked in on those who were near where he and his family were staying in Nyundo. Even before the genocide, he took several Tutsi members into his household to care for them.
Personal Impressions
Standing at least six feet tall and with a barrel-chested frame, Bikindi was probably once a rather imposing figure, but now coming into his late 50s (at the time I visited him) and suffering from a number of health problems, he has grown frail. He has a bulging disc in his lower spine that causes him a great deal of discomfort. During our final morning together, he was swooning and clammy, a recurring symptom of a his diabetic condition.
No doubt, he has a head for business and is shrewd and opportunistic. Before agreeing to be interviewed, he requested that I buy him a laptop, which I did. I also found him at first to be defensive and cautious—understandable given that he has spent a decade in prison and his reputation has been shredded. He required that I sign a notarized contract stating that I would not directly financially benefit from our interview without his consent. The consequence of this is that if I were to adapt my research into a book, I am prohibited from receiving royalties without Bikindi’s permission. In speaking to a lawyer about this, I was told that the contract is not legally binding. Nevertheless, it is ethically binding, and it was a price I was willing to pay to get Bikindi’s side of the story out into the public. Bikindi passed away on December 15, 2018.
As wary and calculating as Bikindi was initially, once we finished our negotiations he was disarmingly charming, polite, and accommodating. It was easy to see why there was a time when he so beloved among Rwandans. The first afternoon of our visit, I provided him a copy of the translations I had made of his songs. The next morning, he returned with numerous corrections and a copy of his own original Kinyarwanda lyrics as well as a French translation that he had rendered. He also provided me with Xeroxed copies of a few photographs, a brochure on Irindiro, and a written defense of his songs.
Throughout our conversations, Bikindi was passionate and animated, laughing one moment, lamenting the next. He seemed bewildered and emotionally wrecked by his circumstances, as much by the views people now have of him as by his imprisonment. Indeed, the reason he agreed to meet with me was because he believed that I would let others know that his songs have been misinterpreted and that I might help rehabilitate his reputation. At the conclusion of each interview session, he would embrace me, the first time muttering, “komera, komera”—“be strong, be strong.”
Several times, he mentioned his concern for homeless children and orphans and the things he has tried to do through the performing arts to help them. He seems to have been an attentive and caring husband and father. From his trial testimony, our conversation, and his lyrics, he also seems to have agonized over the societal collapse that resulted from ethnopolitical violence and the RPF invasions of the early 1990s. While in the Mungunga refugee encampment and later in prison, he wrote a number of songs expressing his sorrow. He also composed a song in prison calling for remembrance of the genocide and the reconciliation of Rwandans, a song he performend at the conclusion of his appeal hearing. These are a few of the reasons I find it difficult to believe that Bikindi advocated genocide. If anything, he seems to be an anti-revolutionary who recoils from social upheaval. I view him as a conservative (in the classic sense of that term) in that he values tradition, the law, and the political and social institutions which enabled him to achieve so much professional success and personal satisfaction. If so, the same criticisms can be made of him as of conservatism in general, that it tends to ignore or dismiss the ways in which tradition, law, and policital and social institutions and structures may promulgate injustice, marginalization, and social unrest. Still, this hardly means Bikindi despised Tutsi and wanted them eliminated.
[1] See Simon Bikindi, ICTR Testimony (T.), 31 October – 6 November 2007.
[2] A commune refers to one of the smallest partitions of Rwanda’s political geography. In this case, many would think of Rwerere as a rural village.
[3] Personal interview, 19-20 May 2011.
[4] “Intore” (“The Chosen”) are traditional Rwandan male dancers whose costumery and spectacular choreography are meant to imitate warriors/hunters. The dancers don grass headdresses resembling lions’ manes and carry shields and swords. Their movements, which are at once both graceful and aggressive, suggest hunting and fighting poses. In the middle of dance sequences, dancers will often stop to rapidly boast of their deeds and exploits (icyivugo).
[5] The song was co-written with his friend, Charles Bunan.
[6] A rather sweet moment occurred during our interview when Bikindi began discussing “Marigarita.” As he started singing it, my friend and interpreter, Frank, recognized it and began singing along. Frank was quite surprised to find himself now sitting in front of the person who had composed and recorded this beloved song.
[7] Specifically, Rwaza école normale, in Ruhengeri, École scientifique Musanze, also in Ruhengeri, and Lycee Notre Dame de Citeaux, in Kigali.
[8] Also referred to as the Ministry of Youth and Sports.
[9] “Urukerereza” translates literally as “the one that causes you to delay,” the idea being that the troupe is so astonishing that when watching them, people will be spellbound and will not be able to carry on with their other activities.
[10] Literally, “the ones who receive the attention.”
[11] Radio dramas called ikinamico were a favorite form of entertainment at the time. Sebanane was a favorite actor often featured on these dramas.
[12] Itorero irindiro means “the ones that keep watch” or “the ones that guard over,” the idea being that they would ensure the preservation of Rwandan culture.
[13] Bikindi may have paid some of his performers more, based on their skill level and importance to the performance as well as how much the troupe took in for certain performances. 200 Rwandan francs is the amount that this former member stated they received during his membership in Irindiro.
[14] McNeil 2002.
[15] Personal interview, June 2008; in Kinyarwanda with aid of interpreter.
[16] Zaïre was renamed the Democratic Republic of the Congo on 17 May1997.
[17] From the available trial documents, it is not clear the exact year that this incident occurred, though it was probably sometime in 2000 or early 2001.
[18] Specifically, their home and Uwimana’s bar and grill were in Gatenga, a commune located within Byumba.