I was born in a family of seven, two parents and five siblings, though I should call it a family of eight to include a very close cousin Béata who we referred to as our sister in Rwanda’s family terms (her mum was my Aunt Marigarita Mukarwego, my mum’s only sister). She was a part of our family and she was living with us at the time I was born. I am one of the youngest being the fourth of five children. We had two naturally formed groups; big children and young children. There is four years difference between me and my older brother and a year gap between each of us. Within seven years, all five of us were born. From oldest to youngest; Uwonkunda Jacqueline Marcella, Dusenge Jeannette Claudine, Sebahungu Fidèle Olivier, Nyinawumuntu Uwamahoro Marie-Claire nicknamed Mimi (myself), Sebahungu Emile-Eric Ngirumpatse. Our cousin that I mentioned earlier Béatrice Mukamusoni that we did call Béa or Béata (short for Béatrice) lived with us until she was married when I was 9 years old.
I was born in Rwanda, in Gisenyi, North West of Rwanda and grew up in a small village called Nyundo where we left on the day I finished Primary three and moved to the city/town of Gisenyi. I have lots of childhood memories, and the warm ones that stayed with me are the weekends especially Sundays. Weekends were the days we spent together as a family and did things together. We grew up in a small community where everyone knew each other until when we moved to Gisenyi city and later in Kigali capital city of Rwanda.
Our family was very close knit family with my Dad and Mum close. As a child I could see they loved each other and did lots of things together. They both were working parents and at some point they worked in the same place (Gisenyi Hospital and CHK – Centre Hospitalier de Kigali currently known as CHUK – Centre Hospitalier Universitaire du Rwanda). They instilled in us lots of values, including, love of family, sense of community & hard work.
My mum is very warm, affectionate, a singer with the most beautiful voice and natural dancer at that, gracious and elegant (An exceptionally skilled Traditional Rwandan dancer due to her childhood exposure to regular dance in her own home gatherings while growing up). I remember her singing around the house and during the church at masses, weekends or many gatherings at our home. When we were children she taught us lots of children songs some that we passed to our own children. She is also a natural story teller. As a child I loved to seat with her listening to her stories, and as an adult this one of the things I miss the most about her as a result of the distance created by living far from my country of origin. My mum was a social worker by Profession but mostly spend her time working at different roles within Government institutions. At the time I was born she was the Director of Nutritious Centre in our local village Nyundo (Directrice du Centre Nutritionnel de Nyundo), until we moved to the city of Gisenyi and both her and my Dad worked at the Gisenyi Hospital.
My Dad was tall, handsome, quiet but funny, strict, dedicated and present. He had a beautiful smile and the most heartwarming chuckle – I am even smiling while recalling & writing this. He was what you would call a typical Rwandan man or should I say just a man really (Whatever that means)in the outside world but when he was at home he was different (In a sense that he was not the usually typical Rwandan man as I later realised). He dedicated time to us and was very much present and involved in home dynamics, whether it is helping with homework, teaching us how to ride a bike, getting & decorating the Christmas tree with us, playing cards with us or taking part in family competitive reading or other games, various debates about life in general, having reflective or/and deep conversation about life with us, at meals times around the table or in the living room during evenings. He gave us our good night blessing (Umugisha – A ritual of giving blessing to children by touching their forehead before sleep) and putting off the light in our room, saying good night to us when we were little. He loved fixing things around the house and was very innovative. An example that comes to my mind are our bedroom lamps that he made himself when we were babies and a few other items around the house.
Unlike my mum, my Dad wasn’t much of a dancer, he would rather encourage us to join in and you could see he loved to see us dance. I particularly recall his proud glance & a smile at my mum’s dancing. He also loved music and we had lots of varieties playing around the house especially at weekends or playing in the occasional car rides. He was in Medical Profession and his title was “Assistant Medical”, which translate as Medical Assistant. With shortage of medical professionals around the country, he quite often did what any full Qualified Doctor would do (I later came to understand – From doing regular check-ups to assisting & performing surgeries, delivering babies to name a few). The exception is that he wasn’t full Qualified as a Doctor. He later Qualified as a Dermatologist, a specialisation he undertook for a year in Bamako, the capital city of Mali in earlier 1980. At the time we were living in Nyundo village, he was the Head of the Medical unit called Dispensaire (an equivalent of local surgery) after working for OMS (Organisation Mondial de la Santé. Translated in English as World Health Organisation; WHO) on a country Programme to fight against Tuberculosis & Leprosis. Believe it or not there was a few cases of Leprosis left in the country in earlier 1980’s. This job involved a lot travelling around the country and I remember he used to leave home on Monday morning and come back on Thursday evenings. He did this job moving around the country especially the most remote areas where there was lack of access to medical care. My siblings and I had a song made for his return that we sung dancing around the garden.
I remember how we all run at the front door to greet him after his week away when we heard the sound of his work car at the front garden followed by the front door opening, then we will fall into his arms hugging him at the same time! After that job contract ended, he worked for the local surgery (Dispensaire de Nyundo) & he wasn’t travelling much anymore but still did some night-shifts (Kurara izamu as they call it in Kinyarwanda). The hugging was a regular thing and did not stop even when he was home on regular basis.
I remember running to the front door for a hug at their lunch time break when he would come through the door and we will run to him talking at the same time Wiriwe Papa, Wiriwe Papa (All five of us rushing to hug him). Wiriwe is a Kinyarwanda closely translated in English as Good afternoon. On his happy day, we would know.He would come rushing through the door with a jovial voice calling us by these affectionate names he has made for five of us, starting from our oldest to youngest while we run to him; he would say, Jakweee, Totweee, Fitweeee, Mimweee, Dudweee and we loooved it (Again I am laughing out loud writing this recalling the memories but also by the fact I would be absolutely grilled by my siblings for saying this 🙈). The running to hug him eventually stopped when we grew out of it by the time myself and my younger brother were probably in Primary four and three respectively.
Our village Nyundo was for the majority a religious community with lots of schools and Catholic prominent one. Nyundo Diocèse was the fourth Catholic Church to be constructed in Rwanda. At the time, Rwanda was a majority Christian country and I think it still is. In our village, there were two primary schools, Kayanza and Sanzare, three High Schools; Ecole D’art de Nyundo (Art School) located across the Road from us, Lycée de Nyundo, one of the first Scientific School for girls and a seminar for boys (Catholic schools for boys some of them preparing to be priests). It was a very social environment and I can not recall a day we did not have visitors especially the weekends. The grown ups in the living room chatting and us children mostly playing outside in our front yard or running around. Our front yard was large with lots of Avocado trees . My brothers Fidèle and Emile used to climb trees, but I wasn’t much a climber but shared lots of games with both of them mostly my young brother Emile. My sisters Jacqueline (our first born) and Jeannette (second born) was much older than me and I was between my two brothers in age with my younger one being mistaken for my twin as we were very close in age (He was born on Monday and I turned one year old Thursday of the same week) thus being involved mostly in my brothers games or doing my own thing when I was a very young child. Of course this changed when I started primary school when I started to make a lot of friends.
One of my favourite time was the days they did cut the grass into our front yard as it was my and siblings favourite hide and seek game. We would hide under the piles of freshly cut grass before it was taken away. The evening bath that day would be a nightmare as we would be very itchy after playing into the freshly cut grass, yet we loved it. I remember my childhood was mostly by creative play, running around, playing lots of games, some I still remember. Out of the games I loved to play, I would name a few. Kudomana (Lots of variety of Dodgeball), Ikibariko (Variety of Hop Scotch), Gukina biye (Playing marbles), Amabuye mu ruziga – not the actual name but close enough (This game involved to move around a lot of pebbles like stones, in and out of drawn circle into the ground, then throw in the air one of them paying attention to catch it & not dropping it while simultaneously trying to move a few back in and out of the drawn circle). It is hard to describe but it is very good for coordination and involves some counting to be able to decide the winner. There was also Gusimbuka umugozi – Skipping rope (Mostly in a group), Agati at school with my primary school friends (A game involving running and passing a baton to each other between 2 teams and the team to have its members reach their original location first will be declared the winning team). Though our parents weren’t involved in many of our games as they worked fulltime, when they were around we played either cards or they will seat on the stairs at the front watch us play while deep in their conversation or occasionally interacting with us. I also remember occasional walks in the evening with my Dad and young brother. My Dad would be holding both our hands and I remember sometimes we would cross Sebeya, a nearby river with wooden Bridge that I was scared to cross because I could see the water between the Bridge gaps underneath my feet but I never said because I knew he got us ! We had more walks with our mum going to church or our regular drops in at her work place that was a few minutes from our home. There is that and also the fact that our Dad is the one who taught us how to ride a bike. This was a rare opportunity in those days especially in the village we lived in. We had only one blue bike (Dino was the brand) shared between the five of us and we took equal turns to ride it. The lessons were taken in order of age, starting with Jackie the oldest, then Jeannette and later Fidèle. Jackie (Short for Jacqueline) and Fidèle were very competitive and used to get away with more rides when our parents weren’t around and they were the first ones to learn how to ride followed by Jeannette our family second born. Myself and young brother were the last to learn to ride, not only because we were youngest but the fact that it was a bigger bike for children size and we had always someone helping us. It was too big to a point when we learned we would be standing and we didn’t get to seat on it until we were probably ten years of age or so. The lessons took place at our front yard but once we were all confident we move to an off road near our mum’s work place that we referred to as ” Kuri Centre” which had more space, longer and safe to ride on. We were allowed only to ride the bike either on school holidays and weekends. I remember at the time when we all could ride the bike, other kids from the neighbourhood joined in and we all took turns riding.
I remember Sundays, eating my mums cooking, she and my dad was full-time working so she did not cook meals everyday. She was the head of Nutritious Centre , then called ” Centre Nutritionnel” where she taught mums from struggling backgrounds how to eat a balanced diet for them and their children, mostly undernourished children were treated at that centre. The centre was very close to our home and my mum use to occasionally come home for a snack/cup of tea at around ten in the morning or me and my young brother we would go see her. I also remember a brown shawl she knitted for me and she used to try it on at break times until she finished it. Before my brother and I started school, every Monday we used to go and be weighed in at the centre in my mum’s office and occasionally they will take us to look at the farm animals that were at the back garden of the centre. It was a large place with lots of animals; Sheep, goats, chicken but my favourite were small rabbits in their hutches. There were even Turkeys that would be moving about and that I was scared of. There was a say that they attack children and a few occasions I saw them chasing children with their wings open along with a weird noise they made every time they were ready to attack, or running after someone. Thankfully every time myself and young brother were around the garden centre we had our mum or another adult holding our hands.
As a kid I knew I was cared for and loved and I always looked up to my older siblings. I remember following their leads on which food to like or not to like. At the time I wasn’t sure about my own choices. I was observant and an outspoken child. I used to entertain everyone around the house, I remember dancing Kinyarwanda songs for the visitors and singing some songs, I wasn’t shy. I also loved games that involved running around or jumping. I was full of energy and I loved to make myself useful around the house.
We had routines like clockwork. The one I remember the most was the big laundry day on Mondays, translated in Kinyarwanda as “Umunsi wo kumesa”. This will take place at different places in our home, mostly at the backyard where there was a dedicated space for washing then they will move to the front yard to dry the clothes where my Dad had installed the posts for the drying lines. They served many purposes as we used them as goal posts while playing football with our friends or used as monkey bar for my little brother who once broke his leg while hanging on one of them.
One of the scenes that I remember that I found fascinating as a kid, is when it was time to squeeze water out of series of bedsheets “Gukamura amashuka”; this was my favourite scene on laundry day. This image always reoccurs in my memory and gives me a sense of warmth as if I am going back into being a child. We would be playing around in the front yard and as soon as we noticed it was time to squeeze water out the bedsheets, myself and my brother would run right next to those who were doing that exercise. While talking to my older sister Jackie recently, I learned that this was the same ritual for my older siblings too.
Two people were involved in that exercise and one will take one end and the other would take the other and they will squeeze each their end of the bedsheet, and the middle of the bedsheet would form a big shaped balloon that would slowly disappear as soon as the water was all squeezed out. I remember the sound it did make and soon after then they will move the sheets up and down to take all the remaining water out then put it on the line. As a little child, this was a like a little ritual that I didn’t want to miss and that I looked forward to every Monday. That and the Monday night.
Monday night was the time our bedsheets would be changed and it would happen at bed time. This is one of my cherished memory, believe it or not. So our cousin Béa who lived at home (She was in her earlier twenties) was the one making the beds. It would be after dinner and myself and my young brother will be first in our beds. First she will start with my brother and she will strip the bed of “Couvre lit” (Bedcover) and Blanket, then put the first bedsheet, next ask my brother to go to bed and then add the 2nd bedsheet, blanket and bedcover. I will be waiting my turn, then she will put the first bedsheet, then ask me to go to bed, as soon as my head hit the bed, I loved the smell of fresh bedsheet. Next she will put the second bedsheet while I was already in bed and the mixture of smell of the fresh bedsheet and the wave of air from the second clean bedsheet would just make feel…I don’t know…pleasant! Next will be the blanket, bed cover and then I will sink in ready to sleep. I always looked forward to every Monday just because of that until of course I was big enough to make the bed myself and wasn’t little anymore to enjoy that ritual. However the joy I felt sleeping in a bed with fresh bedsheets every Monday never stopped even when I grew older. After myself and young brother already in bed, the rest of my siblings will come in soon after us. When my Dad was around ( Not travelling or at a night shift) he will come few minutes later when all in bed and say “Bonne nuit les enfants”, Murote Imana (Close context translation would be Sweet dreams)! We will respond “Bonne nuit Papa”, Urote Imana! He will then switch off the light and leave the room and we would go to sleep.
Tuesday was a day for ironing “Gutera ipasi”. I remember again, in entrance room my cousin ironing on a big table where she would lay a blanket and a clean sheet before she started to iron. This was the same table that was used by my brother and sisters to do their homework. I will be standing next to her for the whole process, I was very close to her and as soon as she came home from work I probably followed her everywhere. While she was ironing I will be talking to her, probably children stuff, how the day was and I will be asking her a lot of questions. She is an introvert and she really didn’t talk much, so there was lots of moments of silence that I didn’t mind as I was observing the iron movements on the clothes and her folding cloth after cloth, with me occasionally helping to arrange them. She will pause from time to time and I could see she was lost into her thoughts and I would ask her: Béa, uri gutekereza? Translated as “Are you thinking” to which she would respond, yes. Then a series of questions would follow! I also had lots of stories and I knew she was listening because if she was not lost into her thoughts she would smile from time to time. I was very fond of her and I am still years later, even though we are not in touch as much I would have loved with the current distance and all the changes that happened over the years. Every time I recall my childhood memories, hers make feel this warmth in my heart. She is my cousin, but she was more like an Aunt or older sister as she is 17 years older than me. I will definitely share a post about her down the line and her special place in our family unit.
Now as far as I remember in my memories before I started school, Mondays,Tuesdays stick to me, Wednesday a bit as our older siblings will be on half-days and will be with us in the afternoons. Not much about Thursday or Fridays, other than usual home routines, lots of plays, afternoon naps, waiting our sisters and brother to come home from schools both at lunch and evening then our parents in the evening, seating with our parents usually our Dad in the living room talking about the day, homework for my siblings and then dinner time and bed. Then came Saturdays!
Saturday was a day for chores and cleaning led by my mum! Saturday meant business around the house and all of us will take part. There was lots of movements in the house, moving and cleaning furniture, cleaning all hidden corners around the house, weekly change of table decoration cloths, but also lots of music. My mum’s love of dancing even in the middle of doing chores and us joining in, mostly Traditional Kinyarwanda songs, the majority recorded by Singer & Artist Kayirebwa but some would be old song sung around the country that my mum grew up to. Some days my mum would go and check on the back garden where they planted a few variety of vegetables and there was even a banana tree or she would be looking after her the flowers in the garden around the house. My mum loved flowers and always we had a “Bouquet de fleurs”; a vase full of variety of freshly cut flowers from her garden. Now retired, my mum has more time to look after her garden and has beautiful range of flowers with a few always to spare to put in a vase inside the house. She occasionally share with us pictures of her garden and flowers. This love of flowers she actually shared with our Dad who though rarely took part in actual planting but would participate in choosing the ones to be planted.
As we grew older, and moved to Gisenyi myself and my young brother were given the task to remove the weeds from the garden, which we did not like in the slightest. Myself and my young brother were also in charge of getting the grass to feed our chickens that and setting the table at meal times, occasionally doing the dishes, getting involved in some preparations for meals on the weekends, do a few runs to the local shops, buying the bread or getting something from the market.
Back to my earlier childhood! On Saturdays if my Dad was home, he would be moving about, doing some paper work or listening to the music with us, getting his haircut (My mum would do this) or cutting his nails (Sometimes helped by my older sister Jackie our first born). He would involved in a few other things: He was the one who arranged the house paper records including our school reports, bills and more. He was also the one who would change our tooth brushes (I learned that they had to be changed every 3 months or so). With us being 5 siblings, I think it was hard to find toothbrush with different colours for each one of us and our Dad would cave with a knife lines across a few toothbrushes so everyone would be able to recognise theirs if you happen to share same colour with another sibling.
After lunch we would most of the time have visitors around that wouldn’t go until bed time or sometimes even stay after we’ve been put to bed. Some Saturdays my Dad would spend them at my grandparents place where he had some land and was leading on some farm activities and occasionally we will go with him.
Sunday would be a special day. We would wake up, have our breakfast, then dress in our Sunday best and off we went to church at Nyundo Cathedral. If a special day, like Easter or Christmas,I remember we would make our way to church my sisters holding myself and young brother’s hands or occasionally it would be my mum holding our hands especially the days my two sisters had left home earlier as they sung in one of the choirs at the church. The sound of Ingoma (Drums) and beautiful songs, lots of people at the church, my mum’s cooking which meant that we eat delicious food but a bit later than usual. After lunch we will have lots of visitors, friends or/and family, as well as students from high schools own the days they had their days out. That or occasionally we will go to see other family friends or our grandparents, Kuri Rubavu translated as “To Rubavu” as we referred to our grandparents place — their home was at the Mount Rubavu, one part of which overlooks the city of Gisenyi, though that wasn’t the side they stayed on.
Christmas were special with everyone around the house excited. We did make Christmas tree together, they would cut a Cyprès tree which was taken from one side of our fence (Our fence was made with a range of Cyprès trees regularly cut to make it even). My Dad would put the tree into a big empty Nido container surrounded by fresh soil to keep it balanced. We would be taking part in the process by putting few decorations and the lights on – I remember the ones that were gorilla shaped and we loved to see them flashing. They will put some sweets and biscuits (A rare treat in those days) during the night while we were sleeping on Christmas Eve & when we woke up, we will rushed in to collect them from the trees.(A few left as many times my brothers who stayed in a different room got there before us).
Leaving in a village where everyone knew each other shaped how I viewed and still view the world. That and the family bonds made with childhood friends and cousins when we were staying at our Grandparents mostly during Summer Holidays. The memories in this post are mostly those made before I turned ten as we moved to Gisenyi when I was nine years old. Recalling this particular time of my childhood brings back lots of heartwarming feelings that I love to go back too and reminiscent. This is also true of my siblings. We knew we had a lovely childhood and my parents had a lot to do with that. They consciously invested in us their time, energy and cared for us. We knew we were deeply loved.
I was hoping that my childhood will fit in one post but with my love for details, clearly I was wrong. There will be a lot more posts about my childhood as it is full of fond memories, particularly this time of my earlier childhood. I further plan to explore my siblings perception of our childhood and their kept memories around this time. For a couple of weeks I have been writing this post, I spoke to my older sister Jackie a few times and she shared with me some of hers that either I wasn’t aware of or a different take on same event or set of shared memories. Originally the title of this Blog was “My childhood” but eventually settled for “Childhood through my eyes” for that reason.
The memories in this post, are just a snapshot of my earlier childhood before I was six years old, the majority before I had even started primary school . They do not describe well who my siblings and myself were as individuals within our family unit, how we related to each other or the dynamics of the environments we grew up in. That will be a post for another day. There will probably be a series of posts describing our childhood, about our holidays at our Grandparents spent together with our cousins, primary schools days with our friends, extended families, neighbours and more.
I often go to my childhood to draw back from, as source of joy and strength especially at moments of life trials and it works most of the time. Myself and my siblings know how blessed we were. I don’t know if it is part of growing up whereby as adults we draw back to our childhood but in mine and siblings conversations lately, we have been talking a lot about it, going back to earlier memories and how much we miss those times & the fact that all looked simple; in our eyes anyway.
Mimi
