(The following information is excerpted and lightly edited from my dissertation, Mbwirabumva [“I Speak to Those Who Understand”], copyright © 2013.)
BIKINDI ON WHY HE COMPOSED THE SONGS:
MCCOY: So, let me ask this other question, why have some interpreted your songs as a call for genocide, and how would you respond to those people?
BIKINDI: Let’s divide this into two parts. The RPF took over and has put into the heads of the people, inciting the people to think that my songs incited genocide. This was not correct.
Let me begin with “Twasazareye.” I composed this song in ’86, and it was selected for a competition in ’87, and that [competition] was meant to prepare for the celebration of independence that was to take place in July. I composed this song, and it was awarded first prize. And among the people who comprised the judges was Mbonimana[1]…And those guys, including Gamaliel Mbonimana, who was the president of the jury—they decided that this song should be sung on Independence Day, and so we performed this song on the first of July. One of the accusations against me in the indictment is that I performed the song in protest of the formation of the Arusha Accords. [Switches to English]: Think!? The song…
MCCOY: …was composed in 1986, and they said it was against the Arusha Accords, which were many years later…
BIKINDI: Do you know when the Arusha Accords were signed?
MCCOY: It was in 1993, wasn’t it?
BIKINDI: August 4, August 4. I invite you to calculate…
MCCOY: Yeah, the logic is…??
BIKINDI: I invite you to calculate, and look—’87—’93—me, I’m ‘here’ [as in ‘here’ in 1987]. [Switches back to Kinyarwanda]: Am I a prophet or a fortuneteller to compose a song that would be against the Arusha Accords, which would be seven years later?!
About “Akabyutso” and “Intabaza”—they were composed in ’93. It was a crucial time for all Rwandans. This was a major moment, when the RPF was attacking. But this cannot be the only reason why I would compose these songs. We had also the creation of multipartyism. This period caused tribulation. It caused people to die. This multipartyism was the cause of people dying like rats! So, you would hear that a taxi had exploded, and while people were still dealing with that, there would be a bus—the post office in Kigali—the whole bus park would be down. And when you went to Kibuye, for example—if you went to Kibuye, you would find that the forest had been burnt down and that the hills were bare. So you would come back to Kigali.
I want to tell you something that touched me. There was a journalist in Gitarama. He had a son whom I loved so much. I will remember [the journalist’s] name—Semusambi, Semusambi! His son went down to Gakingjero, which is a small market down in the town. Some others had gone [to the market] to fight for their party, to fight for people to join their party. [Switches to English]: It is called kubohoza, kubohoza—“to grab someone else.”[2] Yeah, like you are in Republican party and I took you for the Democratic party. And I took you to say, “You! Now! Since you are in Democratic party, if you refuse to be in Democratic party, we kill you!” That is kubohoza. [Switches back to Kinyarwanda]: Semusambi was not in the MRND; he was just a good writer. An Interahamwe member’s house had been destroyed, so he and some of his young friends took revenge.[3] There were also two boys from MDR[4] whose parents had been killed. So these two groups, these youth belonging to different parties, they met in the market. First, the ones from MDR had come “to grab” the youth from MRND. They destroyed houses and put down everything. Then, the Interahamwe came, and they came for revenge, because there were some who had lost their parents.
And I was a witness to this, because the son of Semusambi’s eyes had been ripped out. They brought him to the hospital without eyes. So, I can’t forget the shock of the situation with the son of Semusambi. [In English]: It was a great shock for me! A great shock! [Switches back to Kinyarwanda]: When I asked, “Why did they remove his eyes?” I was told that the guy who did it—his mother had been hung on a steel bar, and he said, “Whoever I meet first, I will take his eyes.”
Another incident…My [office] window was next to the taxi park. It was like ten o’clock at night, and something exploded—BOWWW! And I saw the dead bodies falling down. [*Sighs heavily*]. I left my office and took my car and went straight to the taxi park to see who I could help…So, this is another example that haunts me.
MCCOY: And this was the inspiration for these songs?
BIKINDI: And then all the other opposition parties came together. When these things happened, all these other parties came together, including the RPF, and they said, “No one else killed these people except Habyarimana.” [He mentions the names of several well-known politicians who were killed]. And this one died, and so-and-so died. This touched my heart.
It’s not only that. I went to the meetings. The tongue was very dangerous. We went to meetings—these were party meetings, not regular meetings. So I went there, but on the way I saw that there were members of other parties. They would beat you. So when you were going to party meetings, you would find members of other parties who would beat you up.
What I can’t forget is the accusation against me for organizing an attack at Musha. Musha is outside Kigali near Gikongoro.
MCCOY: Someone was accusing you?
BIKINDI: Someone accused me of being a leader of the attack at Musha! To my surprise, they accused me of this, but I was not even there at the time! I was at a wedding. At this same wedding, a prosecutor was there. So who put this rumor on the radio?! Fortunately, he and another prosecutor were invited on the radio to deny what was said about me. Otherwise, I would have died for nothing. I would have died for nothing!
So, you asked me what was pushing me towards composing these songs. If you were to ask me after these explanations, you would have to be an insensitive person. Who would not be able to compose songs like these? For me, the situation in my country was bad. [Switches to English]: Really, really, really bad…[Back to Kinyarwanda]: Me, as a witness to these troubles, I composed these songs so that I could call for justice, so that I could stop people from doing what they were doing.
[1] Gamaliel Mbonimana was one of two expert witnesses for the Prosecution. His testimony against Bikindi was key to judges’ conclusion that Bikindi intended to use his music to provoke anti-Tutsi hostilities.
[2] “Kubohoza” translates more literally as “to free” or “to liberate.” In this context, it referred to a widespread practice during early-1990s multipartyism in which party loyalists would use threats and physical violence to force others to support their party, that is, “to be liberated” from a rival party. In the months leading up to and during the genocide, it also referred to theft and rape. See Binaifer Nowrojee, Dorothy Q. Thomas, and Janet Fleischman, Shattered Lives: Sexual Violence during the Rwandan Genocide and its Aftermath (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1996), p. 39, fn. 61.
[3] Interahamwe was affiliated with MRND, the major ruling party at the time.
[4] MDR was one of MRND’s fiercest rivals.
CLAIMS FROM THE PROSECUTION, CHAMBER, AND DEFENSE:
The Prosecution claimed in its Indictment that:
Simon Bikindi addressed public gatherings, composed, performed, recorded, or disseminated musical compositions extolling Hutu solidarity and characterizing Tutsi as the enslavers of the Hutu. These compositions were subsequently deployed in a propaganda campaign to target Tutsi as the enemy, or as enemy accomplices, and to instigate, incite, and encourage the Hutu population to separate themselves from the Tutsi, to commit acts of violence against them and to kill them. Simon Bikindi composed, wrote, performed, recorded, and disseminated musical compositions and addressed public gatherings as set out above with the specific intention of instigating persecution of all Tutsis, and of Hutus opposed to ethnic division. The basis of responsibility for the deployment of his compositions is Article 6(1) of the Statue [of the ICTR] for aiding and abetting the persecution of Tutsis, through songs that assimilated all Tutsis as the enemy, by blaming the enemy for the problems of Rwanda, by continuously making references to the 1959 revolution and its gains by the rubanda ngamwinshi [sic][1], and by finally supporting the Hutu ten commandments.[2]
Gamaliel Mbonimana, Professor Emeritus at the National University of Rwanda, is well-known throughout Rwanda for his work as a cultural historian and musicologist. His colleague, Jean de Dieu Karangwa, is a linguist at L’Institut National des Langues et Civilisations Orientales in Paris. The two served as expert witnesses for the Prosecution, testifying against Bikindi and authoring the Prosecution’s Expert Report on which the indictment of Bikindi’s compositional activities was based. Their report opens by stating:
These songs suggest that the real history of Rwanda in general and of the Hutu in particular started in 1959 when the Tutsi-led monarchy was abolished following a social revolution, with the independence secured in Rwanda giving birth to a Rwandan Republic dominated by the Hutu long marginalized by the previous regime. This Hutu/Tutsi dichotomy reflects Bikindi’s worldview which is just as simple: with the Revolution the Hutu freed themselves from the multi-secular yoke and excesses of the Tutsi feudal monarchy. Independence and the Republic of Rwanda are a Hutu affair with the Hutu being the sole credible guarantors and the sole custodians thereof.
Bikindi’s songs help keep the 1959 flame burning. His inspiration flows from this almost obsessive idea: a call for vigilance and Hutu mobilization in order to preserve the Republic and the gains of the revolution threatened by danger that shall remain unnamed. It takes decoding such a description to discover that it refers to the Tutsi who act of their own accord or through the Hutu, whom they manipulate. As a diversionary tactic, the Hutu is invariably sharply criticized by the composer while the Tutsi is only alluded to or not mentioned.
To this politically committed artiste, Hutu prosperity and perpetuity may be attained only by excluding the Tutsi. Hence, Hutu priority is to prevent Tutsi—by all means possible—from regaining any fraction of power, however small. The three songs, which somehow complement each other, reflect how the composer’s commitment evolved developments in Rwanda from propaganda/mobilization (“Twasazareye”: “We bade farewell”) to open incitement to hatred (“Nanga Abahutu” or “Akabyutso”: “I hate Hutu” or “The Awakening” and “Bene Sebahinzi” or “Intabaza”: “The descendents of Sebahinzi” or “The Alert”). [emphasis theirs][3]
Mbonimana and Karangwa go on to state that the songs have a “very appealing rhythm with Bikindi bringing to bear all his talent as a skillful lyricist and his knowledge of Rwandan culture, language, and traditions in hammering out formidable weapons for mass persuasion designed to persuade the Hutu, whoever they may be, to detest the Tutsi and, possibly, to eliminate them” [emphasis theirs].[4] In their conclusion, they reiterate that the “songs became a true weapon of mass persuasion in the service of mass destruction!” [emphasis theirs].[5]
Based on the testimony of the two expert witnesses and their report, and with an appreciation of the fact that two of the songs, “Intabaza” and “Akabyutso,” were composed during a time when political and ethnic relations were violently rupturing, the judges agreed that Bikindi intended to stoke further ethnic resentment and violence. The Final Judgment reads:
In conclusion, after having considered all the evidence, the Chamber finds beyond reasonable doubt that the Prosecution has proven that “Twasazareye,” “Nanga Abahutu” and “Bene Sebahinzi” manipulated the history of Rwanda to extol Hutu solidarity. It further finds that “Nanga Abahutu” and “Bene Sebahinzi” characterized Tutsi as Hutu enslavers, enemies or enemy accomplices, blamed the enemy for the problems in Rwanda, encouraged Hutu solidarity against a common foe, the Tutsi, and finally supported the spirit of the Hutu Ten Commandments published in Kangura. Although the evidence does not establish Bikindi’s intention in composing “Twasazareye” in 1987 for the purpose of celebrating the Silver Jubilee of Rwandan Independence, the only reasonable inference in the Chamber’s opinion is that Bikindi composed “Nanga Abahutu” and “Bene Sebahinzi” with the specific intention to disseminate pro-Hutu ideology and anti-Tutsi propaganda, and thus to encourage ethnic hatred.[6]
Eugene Shimamungu served as the expert witness for the Defense. He is a linguist and historian who has published books criticizing Kagame and the RPF. He once taught at the National University of Rwanda but fled the country and is now director of the publishing house, Editions Sources du Nile, located in Brussels. Rebuffing Mbonimana and Karangwa’s claims, he wrote in his Expert Report:
We cannot say [the songs] encouraged ethnic hatred, because for one thing, the lyrics are very difficult to discern and understand…What the Prosecutor’s expert witnesses have proven is that they lent to Bikindi’s songs a malicious intent, and yet, nobody knows what he even meant. The common person does not understand these songs. That is not abnormal, but the experts are interpreting transcripts of the lyrics that are incomplete and only approximate. That is intellectually dishonest…Their conclusions are based on a priori assumptions, not on the text itself.[7] [Translated from French by McCoy]
[1] Recall that rubanda nyamwinshi means “majority people” and became the main rallying cry for granting nearly all political power to Hutu.
[2] The ‘Hutu Ten Commandments’ was a deplorable editorial authored by Hassan Ngeze and published in his anti-Tutsi newspaper, Kangura. The contents of this editorial will be discussed more in Chapter 6. To summarize, the editorial called for complete segregation between Hutu and Tutsi in all domains of society, including marriage and business dealings. It also demanded that Hutu be taught about the “evils” of Tutsi and to always be suspicious of them.
[3] Mbonimana Gamaliel (UNR-Butare) and Jean de Dieu Karangwa (INALCO-Paris), “Topical Analysis of the songs ‘Twasazareye’ (‘We bade farewell’), ‘Nanga abahutu’(‘I hate Hutu’) and ‘Bene sebahinzi’ (‘The descendants of Sebahinzi’).” Expert Report prepared for the ICTR for The Prosecution vs. Simon Bikindi. Case no. ICTR-2001-72-I. (2006), p.3.
[4] Ibid., p.5.
[5] Ibid., p. 24.
[6] Judgment, p. 106.
[7] Eugene Shimamungu, Expert Report prepared for the ICTR for The Prosecution vs. Simon Bikindi. Case no. ICTR-01-72-T.
CONFLICTING INTERPRETATIONS:
On the basis of Mbonimana’s and Karangwa’s report, the Prosecution claimed that Bikindi articulated and promoted three interrelated strategic goals with the intent to incite genocide and increase participation in it: the solidarity of Hutu, the demonization of Tutsi, and the memory of Hutu enslavement under the Tutsi elite monarchy which ended with the 1959 Revolution. Without question, Bikindi’s lyrics express a plea for solidarity among a violently fractured polity in the face of RPF attacks throughout the early 1990s. His lyrics denounce the monarchial and colonial regimes and draw symbolic associations between them and the RPF. Finally, the lyrics call for Rwandans to study and remember the past so that its mistakes and injustices will not be repeated. The question is whether these exhortations were intended along the lines of a simplistic dichotomy between Hutu and Tutsi, with Hutu as the “good guys” and Tutsi as the enemies, or whether Bikindi was addressing political identities, relations, and tensions that were far more multi-layered, dynamic, and complex.
“Intabaza,” for example, dwells on how the bene Sebahinzi, once subjugated under the monarchy, are now fighting amongst themselves. The term means “children of the Father of Farmers” and has long been a common euphemism for Hutu.[1] Bikindi argued that he invoked the name in reference to all Rwandans who farm in order to survive—a category that includes not just most Hutu, but most Tutsi and Twa as well. Upwards of 95% of Rwanda’s population farms or owns farms tended by others. Bene Sebahinzi thus comprise the rubanda nyamwinshi—“the majority people.” Bikindi contends that the main message of the song was that Rwandans should cease with partisan violence, hold elections, and unite behind their chosen leaders in order to repel the RPF lest they find themselves suffering through the same oppressive circumstances that they did during the monarchy. Addressing the farming population links to broader issues of social class. Most farmers are peasants who receive little formal education and are removed from the centers of political and economic power. Partisan violence was waged in part by poorer young men, most hailing from such peasant farming families, who were bribed by party officials into terrorizing and killing the supporters of their rivals. The song thus sets up a conflict between a peasantry whose material need and ignorance of the larger political picture is exploited by a small but self-serving and corrupt ruling class. If the “the majority people” fail to recognize this scheming for what it is, then it will bring ruin to the whole country, and enable the RPF to take over.
When I shared with research participants Bikindi’s explanation that bene Sebahinzi referred to all farmers and not just Hutu, none believed him. When discussing this with a group of about a half dozen Tutsi genocide survivors who were also RPF supporters, they burst into incredulous laughter, with a couple men exclaiming, “He is lying; he is lying!” Even those who defended Bikindi found his claim hard to swallow. One woman, who was otherwise a supporter of Bikindi, simply stated, “No. Everybody knows that bene Sebahinzi means Hutu.” She saw little problem with this though. It was, after all, mainly Hutu who were engaged in partisan warfare, and to her, there was nothing wrong with Bikindi telling them to stop fighting among themselves.
The song does, in fact, explicitly include Tutsi and Twa within the category of bene Sebahinzi. Bikindi pens the line, “May they come! None of the children of Sebahinzi, neither Hutu, Twa, or Tutsi, should do wrong and have an unrealizable dream of taking power by force.” “Akabyutso” continues in a similar vein, but unlike “Intabaza,” Bikindi explicitly chastises Hutu and only Hutu who engage in bribery, corruption, violence, and other misdeeds. Much of his scorn is also directed at those Hutu who have forgotten or are ignorant of the past. Bikindi claims that he was referring to partisan loyalists who were fighting each other, often for a small bribe from their party leaders. His critics maintain that this was all a rhetorical scheme intended to shame those Hutu who refused to fight against Tutsi.
“Intabaza” mentions a number of Rwandan clans, many of which had historically engaged in territorial and political rivalry with one another. Each clan included both Hutu and Tutsi among its members. The clans are mentioned in the context of a speech delivered by a powerful diviner, Biryaobayoboke, in which he boasts of how he foretold the defeat of these clans under the monarchy. The song thus communicates a commonality of oppression among Rwandans. Regional unification is also a theme found throughout the songs. “Twasazareye,” for example, praises both President Kayibanda, whose base of support was among the Banyanduga in southern-central Rwanda, and President Habyarimana, whose base of support was among the Bakiga in the northern-western regions. These two regions had historically been in conflict, and Habyarimana eventually overthrew Kayibanda for overly favoring his constituency at the expense of the Bakiga. Bikindi claims that his general message in these songs was that Rwandans should forgive and forego these past rivalries and instead promote the general welfare of the country’s citizenry as a whole, an ideology quite similar to what the RPF preaches today. His critics contend that the references to clan and regional rivalries were a veiled way of calling on Hutu to relinquish their internecine disagreements and to instead unite against Tutsi.
THE INFLUENCE OF POLITICAL AFFINITIES ON INTERPRETATION:
Assumptions about Bikindi’s intentions and the consequent interpretations of his songs tend to correlate with political allegiances. I found during field research that all participants who supported the RPF had a negative view of Bikindi and his lyrics, whereas those critical of the RPF had a more positive view. A Foucaldian analysis concerning the reciprocal relationship between power and knowledge could very well apply here. Foucault’s fundamental argument was that social discourse is primarily shaped by power interests. Because discourse is the wellspring of collective knowledge, what people think and believe is thus determined in large part by how thought and belief legitimizes and advances their power interests as they perceive them. The more powerful that people are within a given social milieu, the more influence they will have over social discourse and thus what others within their social milieu think and believe.[2] This generates a self-perpetuating cycle in which power begets certain knowledge that in turn further legitimizes power interests, and so on. Applying this to present-day Rwanda, as power continues to be contested between the RPF and its opponents, sociopolitical actors on both sides try to manipulate discourse on ethnicity, politics, and history to either produce or suppress knowledge in ways that will further legitimize their power interests, increase the size and zeal of their base of support, and subvert the power interests of their competitors and diminish their support. Bikindi’s songs represent a rebuke of the RPF’s power, and so interpretations of his songs are partly contingent on people’s political affinities.
EXPERIENCES OF THE GENOCIDE AND THEIR INFLUENCE ON INTERPRETATION:
Identifying issues of power interests is only of limited analytical use unless it is tethered to people’s psychosocial experiences. Alongside people’s political allegiances, I found that assumptions about Bikindi’s intentions and the consequent interpretations of his songs tended to correlate with people’s experiences of the genocide and its aftermath, experiences that in turn played a large role in determining political allegiances. Among the participants in my research, those who were targeted during the genocide and believed they were saved by the RPF now support the RPF and the ideological perceptions it imparts. Those who have since been persecuted by the RPF obviously are critical of the RPF and contest the discourse from which pro-RPF ideology emerges.
It is important, though, to consider the quality of the experiences themselves; the physical agony, psychological terror, and disruption of everyday life during the war and genocide, alongside the feelings of hope, sense of safety, and anticipation of prosperity in the aftermath of the RPF takeover influence how people respond to the songs and the meaning they impute to them. Research participants who were targeted during the genocide or suffered great personal loss were more prone towards a negative view of Bikindi, all the more so if they had since experienced greater security and prosperity under the RPF. This was not only because Bikindi’s lyrics are subversive of the RPF and thus the benefits its supporters have since gained under its rule. Rather, some participants were hindered from objectively analyzing the songs, because the songs were linked on a deeply emotional and cognitive level with the memories of their own terror and sorrow. Keep in mind that the songs were broadcast several times a day during the genocide. Many listeners were thus prone to an a priori assumption that genocide was Bikindi’s intent, and their interpretations of his lyrics comported with this assumption.
ETHNICITY AND ITS INFLUENCE ON INTERPRETATION:
All Tutsi who participated in my research denounced Bikindi. Hutu participants, in contrast, either defended Bikindi outright, took a neutral stance, or if they did criticize him were equivocating in their criticisms. I shared this in an e-mail with a Hutu friend. She responded:
These findings are very meaningful! Hutu and Tutsi do not have the same judgment [of Bikindi and his songs]. I’m wondering if their judgments are mostly linked to how each of them perceives the political events rather than the songs themselves? Maybe this shows that Rwandan society at the time of your interviews is still divided in two groups: the genocide survivors and those who were not targeted!
The harshest criticism from a Hutu came from a good friend whom I will call John. Before the RPF takeover he was an Anglican priest. Sometime after, he was defrocked by the local diocese and replaced by a Tutsi. The diocese claimed that its decision was due to John’s engagement in ministry that was not officially sanctioned by the church (he used his own property to teach neighbors sustainable gardening practices and built a small school where he taught tailoring skills). He later learned through various channels what he had suspected, that the likely reason he was replaced was due to the new regime’s desire to install more Tutsi in prestigious positions in order to rebalance the overall ethnic power structure in Rwanda. John’s sunny disposition and his desire for peace precluded him from holding a grudge, and he remains highly appreciative and supportive of Kagame and the RPF for its many socially and economically progressive policies, lack of corruption, and for instilling security.
John did not believe that Bikindi intended to incite genocide or that he had a negative view of Tutsi at all. The problem, as he put it, was that Bikindi was “excessively patriotic” and encouraged Rwandans to go to war with the RPF rather than seek a peaceful resolution:
…To me, he is too excessive a patriot. Through music, we can transmit a teaching, a message. Not only a message to please the ears or to—yeah—to please people. But also you know that through music you can teach people, and what he’s teaching, for me, was too, too patriotic. Excessively. On the other hand, any patriot obviously would have sung the same thing. Because the RPF was invading the country. And anybody would have encouraged the army to fight the invader. And that’s what Bikindi is singing about, hmm? And I think that—I think that this is one of the things that he’s being judged for. For being too patriotic. He can be judged for it wrongly or justly, because he sided with the enemies of the Tutsis—the actual leaders of the country. He’s also prophetic in some of his songs, because he tells people, “If the RPF wins, this is what will happen to you.” And he’s also warning the Hutus not to fight one another, hmm? “Don’t be traitors.” So he’s telling them, “Don’t fight one another. Don’t kill another. Let’s fight our common enemy.”
CONFLICTING INTERPRETATIONS OF HISTORY AND CONFLICTING INTERPRETATIONS OF THE SONGS:
The debate over Bikindi’s songs reflects the broader debate over the nature of Rwandan history. Each of the three songs is cast in the form of a narrative of Rwandan history with considerable focus on the monarchy, characterized by Bikindi as deceitful, self-serving, and cruel. Less is said about colonialism, but when it is mentioned, it too is characterized as exploitative and callous to the interests of Rwandans.
The Prosecution argued that the songs glorify the 1959 Revolution, an event that resulted in Rwanda’s independence but also the systematic persecution of Tutsi. Mbonimana’s and Karangwa’s Expert Report for the Prosecution claims that the songs “suggest that the real history of Rwanda in general and of Hutu in particular began in 1959.” The Revolution is mainly celebrated in “Twasazareye,” which is not surprising since the song was composed to commemorate Rwanda’s independence. True, Bikindi fails to mention the suffering of Tutsi, emphasizing only the emancipation of Rwandans from the monarchial and colonial regimes. At the same time, nowhere does he celebrate the suffering of Tutsi. His praise for Kayibanda and the other architects of the Revolution is spare. More praise is given to Habyarimana who overthrew Kayibanda (and, of course, happened to be president at the time the song was composed). “Intabaza” briefly honors the Revolution, calling on Rwandans to safeguard their newfound democracy (even as this “democracy” was ruled and still is by a near unanimously elected dictators). “Akabytuso” makes no mention at all of the Revolution, leaping from the time of the monarchy to the tumultuous 1990s.
Not all Rwandans believe that the monarchy was so bad. RPF historiography regards it as having been fairly benign. Bikindi’s critics thus charge him with falsely demonizing the monarchy, doing so in order to symbolically ascribe its negative qualities to all Tutsi. For example, a male Tutsi who immigrated to Rwanda following the RPF takeover had this to say:
When [Bikindi] considers what happened in the courts of the king, it would sound like the king was a bad person…Maybe he was a dictator when it came to war, but with other things, he wasn’t bad. I mean, you can be ruthless in war and kill, but that is not in your nature—killing. But in his singing, Bikindi makes it seem like the king is a bad person, as if the monarchy is a bad system. But I mean, every king, every leader, has some good things and some bad things. So [Bikindi] picks only the bad things in the monarchy and brings it into the songs.
Boniface was in her late nineties when I met her. In her younger days, she was a singer in the courts of Rwanda’s last two kings, Rudahigwa and Ndahindurwa. She fondly remembered the time of the monarchy as an era of peace, tranquility, and order. One wall of her living room was still decorated with a photo of Ndahindurwa, and she told me that she was deeply saddened when he was forced into exile. As a royal musician and Tutsi, she was favored by the king and exempted from forced labor (save for the requirement that she sing). She and her family were threatened after the Revolution by PARMEHutu and so fled to Burundi to escape danger. Once the RPF secured the country, it was safe for her to return, and for this, she believed that the goodness she associated with the monarchy had likewise returned.
Whatever the nature of the monarchy, Bikindi resented the accusation that he intended to transfer the negative imagery of the monarchy to all Tutsi. His argument was that while the monarchy was ruled by Tutsi, more significantly it was the purview of two clans, the Abanyiginya and Abega, not an entire ethnic group, and so it is baseless to assume that he meant to implicate all Tutsi. He said his critique is of a political system, not an ethnic group, and his message was intended as a warning to his listeners of the consequences when power is taken by force and concentrated in the hands of a few without representational input from the greater population.
THE SPOKEN AND UNSPOKEN IN KINYARWANDA DISCOURSE:
A vexing issue that confronted judges during Bikindi’s trial was that nowhere in the songs did he explicitly denigrate or call for violence against Tutsi. As the Prosecution’s Expert Report admits, “…the Tutsi is only alluded to or not mentioned.” The only time when Tutsi are specifically mentioned is in several lines near the end of “Intabaza,” where the song’s heroic protagonist, Mutabazi (M), consults with the powerful diviner, Biryabayoboke (B), regarding the solution to Rwanda’s social and political woes. (As I have organized the lyrics and enumerated them, the relevant lines are 105-133, 124-126, 135, and 152-159):
(105) B: Nibaze! Bene Sebahinzi bagomba kumenya ko uru Rwanda rugizwe n’uturere twinshi, kandi ko utwo turerere aritwo turugira u Rwanda rugari rutuwe n’abanyarwanda.
May they come! The children of the Father of Farmers must know that Rwanda is composed of several regions that make up the greater Rwanda inhabited by the Rwandan people.
(106) M: Rwose!
Indeed!
(107) B: Bene Sebahinzi bagomba kumenya kandi ko abo banyarwanda batuye u Rwanda barimo amoko atatu: Gahutu, Gatwa na Gatut
The children of the Father of Farmers must know also that the Rwandans who inhabit Rwanda are comprised of three ethnic groups: Hutu, Twa, and Tutsi.
(108) Ibyo ntibihinduka rwose.
All those things cannot be changed.
(109) M: Ibyo ntibihinduka .
Those things cannot be changed.
(110) B: Twese tugomba kwemera ko nta wasabye kuvuka ari umuhutu, umutwa cyangwa umututsi.
All of us must realize that no one asked to be born a Hutu, Twa, or Tutsi.
(111) M: None se?
And so?
(112) B: Bityo tukemera ko nta wusumba undi.
Therefore, we must accept that no one is superior to another.
(113) Tukemera ko nta wugomba kuryamira undi kandi ko inyungu za rubanda-nyamwinshi arizo zigomba gushyirwa imbere!
We must accept that no one may oppress another and that priority must be given to the benefits of the majority people!
********
(124) B: Nibaze! Bene Sebahinzi bagomba kumenya ko Inkotanyi ziramutse zitsindishije amasasu—uretse ko bidashoboka—amashyaka barimo yose yazima burundu abayarimo bagashirira ku icumu, nk’uko abahinza b’Abahutu bashiriye ku icumu, mu gitondo umututsi agacyuza imihigo agira, ati “Harabaye ntihakabe, hapfuye imbwa n’imbeba hasigaye inka n’ingoma!”
May they come! The children of the Father of Farmers must know that if the Inkotanyi win with the bullets of guns—even though this is impossible—then all the political parties will disappear forever and their members killed by the spear, just as the Hutu chiefs were killed by the spear, [after which] in the morning a victorious Tutsi boasted, saying “As it was, it will never be again—the dog and rat were killed, replaced by the cow and the drum!”
(125) Aho ntibahibuka rwose!
They don’t remember all that!
(126) M: Aho ntibahibuka we!
Oh, they don’t remember that!
********
(135) B: Nibaze! Bene Sebahinzi, yaba umuhutu, umutwa cyangwa umututsi, nta n’umwe ugomba kwibeshya cyangwa ngo anarote mu nzozi ko yafata ubutegetsi ku ngufu akoresheje intwaro.
May they come! None of the children of the Father of Farmers, neither Hutu, Twa, nor Tutsi, should do wrong or have an inconceivable dream of taking over the government through force of arms.
********
(152) B: Nimusabe amatora rero.
So, call for elections.
(153) Nihatorwa umuhutu, twemere atuyobore!
If a Hutu is elected, let us accept that person to lead!
(154) M: Yee!
Yeah!
(155) B: Nihatorwa umututsi, twemere atuyobore!
If a Tutsi is elected, let us accept that person to lead!
(156) M: Yee!
Yeah!
(157) B: Nihatorwa umutwa, twemere atuyobore!
If a Twa is elected, let us accept that person to lead!
(158) M: Twemere atuyobore.
Let us accept that person to lead!
(159) B: U Rwanda ni urwacu uko turi batatu. Twese ntawusumba undi!
This Rwanda is for all three of us. No one is greater than another!
It is difficult to determine Bikindi’s intentions in the above passages. Three of the passages (105-113, 135, and 152-159) clearly seem to express an ideology of ethnic equality and the need for mutual respect, but one of the passages (124-126) seems to place Tutsi in a bad light, claiming that Hutu chiefs were killed by a Tutsi after which the Tutsi boasted. Participants informed me that the phrase is an ancient and well-known saying attributed to Ruganzu Ndori. When his soldiers vanquished their enemies and annexed their territories, this was supposedly their cry of victory. The “cow and drum” are obvious references to the monarchy; I am told that the “dog and rat” were once derogatory symbols for Hutu and Twa respectively.
A number of participants shared that evasion, allusion, and metaphor were customary not just within Kinyarwanda poetic contexts, but throughout everyday discourse in Rwanda. This would not be a distinctively Rwanda cultural trait, yet several participants indicated that they believed that it was. They had a culturally self-essentializing view of Kinyarwanda discourse. One participant claimed that “Rwandans, we don’t say things directly,” and another that “We are by nature secretive.” Others made similar comments. A self-deprecating joke that Rwandans often seem to tell foreigners to illustrate this (based on my interactions with foreign aid workers who mentioned that they had heard the same joke) goes something like this: A woman runs into her neighbor on the street corner. The neighbor asks, “Where are you going?” The woman replies, “Nowhere.” To which the neighbor then asks, “Oh, when will you get there?” The humor is in the neighbor’s (likely correct) assumption that the woman is going somewhere even though the woman states otherwise. When a friend told me the joke, she explained that the woman did not want her neighbor to know her business, but if she were to just respond, “I’d rather not say” or “It’s none of your business,” the neighbor would find it strange or rude.
One afternoon, I had the opportunity to have lunch with an RPF general. To convey this enculturated perception of Kinyarwanda discourse, he provided the following hypothetical example:
Say you and I are here drinking tea, and a man that I know walks into this restaurant. And this man—we have not spoken in many years, and in fact, we have become kind of like enemies. I would not say to this man to his face that we have a problem with each other. Instead, I would say to him across the room, “Do we still take tea together?”
Or perhaps you, as my friend, you come, but still I say, “Do we still take tea together?” So, you see? This is the problem. But to my enemy, I will say it like this—“Do we still take tea?” [*cocks his head back, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes halfway*]. And to you, I will say like this—“Do we still take tea?” [*leans forward, elbow resting on the table*].
The officer relayed a basic principle of communications that the same utterance can contain multiple meanings, depending on its paralinguistic and kinesic character,[3] its context, and the assumptions that the speaker and the listener have of one another and of the quality of their relationship. To me, there was nothing uniquely Rwandan about this, but like other participants, the officer suggested that there was.
Beyond matters of custom and etiquette, to address a topic through indirect, allusional, and metaphorical means is considered a mark of cleverness and wisdom. Obfuscation is prized in Kinyarwanda poetics. Bikindi’s rhetorical mastery in this reguard is a major reason why his songs are so compelling for many Rwandans. Participants who greatly enjoyed listening to the songs cited as the main reasons for their enjoyment as, first, the quality of the music itself, and second, the lyrics, which they regarded as an intriguingly complex semantic puzzle for them to solve. A young Tutsi woman who was not familiar with Bikindi’s work until I shared it with her said, “It is like unlocking a mystery!”
Bikindi also riddles his lyrics with archaic terms, phrases, proverbs, and references. His knowledge and usage of such language impresses listeners and adds further layers of obscurity into which they must delve. In “Twasazareye,” for example, he uses the term “imitaga” for “days” instead of the more commonly used term, “iminsi.” Many of the archaic references are difficult even for Rwandans to decipher. The opening refrain to “Intabaza” begins as follows:
(1) Icyampa akana kari amanyamaaa…nkagira n’akandi kari amaguruuu…,
If I could have an audacious child and another who [is quick],
(2) Nkabitumira kuri Muhinzi,
I would send them to Muhinzi [“The Farmer”],
(3) Umwe wahinguje Gashaka, agahinda abagisha b’i Mwima na Mushirarunguuu…
The one who chased off the cattle herders of Mwima and Mushirarungu who had stopped Gashaka from farming.
Mwima and Mushirarungu are the names of two hills in Nyanza, the seat of the monarchy. The passage thus suggests that Muhinzi, a heroic personification of farmers (“muhinzi” translates as “farmer”), fought off the monarchy and reclaimed their grazing lands for agricultural use. However, no one whom I consulted had any idea who Gashaka was, and unfortunately, in the few days I spent with Bikindi, we neglected to bring it up. The translation that Bikindi provided me translates this line as, “The one who struggled for independence, national sovereignty, and the abolition of the feudal monarchy whose seat was in Mwima and Mushirarungu”[4]—clearly not a direct translation.
Much of the metaphorical content of the lyrics are found in these archaic references and proverbs, as evinced in the opening refrain of “Akabyutso”:
(2) Intumva yabyaye intumbwe.
Those who can’t understand give birth to the foolish,
(3) Umutisiga abyara umusazi.
The idiot gives birth to a crazy person,
(4) Igihuru kibyaye igihunyira, se rungano!
The bush gives birth to an owl, my dear old man!
(5) Ukuri guca mu ziko ntigushye,
The truth passes through fire without burning up,
(6) Kandi kuvugisha ukuri ntibyica umutumirano mwa bagabo mwe!
And to tell the truth does not destroy good relations, you men!
These proverbs are open to a number of interpretations, but the self-essentializing belief among many Rwandans that they are covert and evasive in their discourse promotes the assumption of malicious intent on Bikindi’s part. For example, many listeners assume that “the foolish” refers to Hutu who refuse to kill Tutsi. Even when it comes to lines that are straightforward, many assume that Bikindi did not mean what he plainly seemed to mean. When his songs mention the oppressive practices of the monarchy, his critics charge that he was really referring to all Tutsi. When the songs call for peace, he really meant that peace could only come about through genocide. When the songs emphasize the need for mutual respect among the three ethnic groups in Rwanda, what he really meant was that Tutsi should recognize the superiority of Hutu. Bikindi’s pleas for peace and equality may also serve as a diversionary tactic from his “true message” of hatred and violence. The Prosecution’s Export Report, in fact, altogether ignores any lines that call for peace and equality. What Bikindi does not say also matters. “Intabaza” may not often explicitly mention Hutu or Tutsi but instead dwells on the “children of the Father of Farmers,” understood by most as a euphemism for Hutu. “Akabytuso” does not mention Tutsi either but instead chastises Hutu who are in the wrong.
Bikindi’s critics argue that in disguising his message, it made it all the more powerful. Mbonimana and Karangwa’s report states:
[The lyrics] oscillate between anarchism and modernity, poetry and prose, which are a lot more appreciated by Rwandans who praise the composer’s knowledge of the language and the culture. As L. Nkusi (1987: 85) put it: “kumenya ikinyarwanda” (to know Kinyarwanda), is not only to have a good command of one’s language, to be versed in morpho-syntactical and lexical forms, but also to know the customs of the country and, of course, the everyday language.” Even when listeners do not understand the whole meaning, they still admire the composer, with Rwandans’ relationship to their language being such that, paradoxically, the more the usage is complicated, the more it is appreciated.[5]
Prosecution Witness BKW argued that the message was clear to listeners, despite Bikindi’s obfuscatory rhetoric. He put it bluntly:
It is true that he spoke in indirect words, but the lyrics…called for murder and killing.[6]
[1] Tutsi were commonly called “bene Sebatunzi”—“children of the Father of Cattle Breeders.”
[2] Foucault’s theorization on the reciprocal relationship between power and knowledge is interwoven through much of his work. As a good primer, see Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972-1977. Trans. Colin Gordon et al. (New York: Pantheon, 1980).
[3] Paralinguistics concerns verbal but non-lexical modes of expression such as tone of voice, inflection, and cadence. Kinesics is more commonly known as body language.
[4] Translated from French by McCoy.
[5] Karangwa and Mbonimana 2006, p. 9.
[6] Witness BKW, T. 18 October 2006, p. 11.