Vincent’s Testimony

My name is Vincent Nsengiyumva. I was born and raised in Nyanza, the cultural heart of Rukali in the south province of Rwanda. From early childhood, my grandparents, who were Indigenous Rwandan musicians, nurtured my passion for music and Rwandan culture by teaching me to play and fabricate traditional instruments. They gave me a foundation upon which I have built my life. I remember and cherish the times when all people regardless of their backgrounds celebrated events together by singing, playing instruments, dancing together, and sharing everything they had to support one another.

No one could have foreseen that one day, lifelong friends and neighbours would turn against each other in such a nightmare. It seemed as though demons had possessed people, driving them to commit unspeakable acts with chilling indifference. Some felt that the time had come for revenge for all the years of humiliation and the injustice of unfair treatment. People lost their humanity and dignity as houses were set on fire, women and children were raped and killed, torturing and killing men were tortured and murdered, , erasing an entire generation from the face of the earth. 100 days of genocide felt like a century of fear, anger, devastation, and the desperate clinging to hope.

It was unbearable to contain the feelings and emotions that were bottling up inside during that time. With my entire family dead, I came to harsh realization that I was all alone in a world filled with cruelty. It was the beginning of my own personal struggle, the battle for survival. Once the genocide ended, the hardest part of my life began. Being 15 and all alone was not an easy task. I had to overcome anger, fear and disappointment while trying to find a roof above my head and food to eat, all the while that I was forced to assist in disposing of the decaying corpses that lay by the thousands along the roads. 

It was then that I understood that all I had left was the musical skills that my wonderful grandparents taught me when I was younger. Music became my lifeline, putting food on the table. I started to look for musicians and dancing troupes around Rwanda that I could join and work hard to earn money. Thanks to my family and all the skills they gave me as a child, I found a way to continue. While I was playing my traditional instruments, dancing, and singing I was learning more and more about my culture and music. I was improving both my musical ability and my mental health with every passing day that I got to play music and dance.

I am deeply grateful to the renown musician, Bwanakweli Nathan for teaching me how to sing and play traditional trumpets (Amakondera), which proved invaluable later on. Additionally, I owe much to Rujindiri and Sebatunzi, masters of the traditional Rwandan zither for inspiring me to play the Inanga and helping me develop to develop my skills. Thanks to their mentorship, I became a member of the National Ballet Urukerereza of Rwanda at the age of 15 where I had the opportunity to perform alongside professional artists as a custodian of Indigenous Rwandan culture. It took a long time to finally accept and believe that my life would change for the better and this professional practice was a significant factor in this process.

In 2009, I moved to Canada and became one of very few cultural Rwandan ambassadors in the North America. Music feels like my destiny and the fulfillment of my life’s purpose. I use it to offer healing to others because it continually brings me back to life. 

This year marks 30 years since the genocide against Tutsi of Rwanda. As a survivor of the 1994 genocide, I often find myself grappling with profound questions: “Why?” Why were we subjected to such horrors? Why did I survive while so many perished? Though these questions may never find satisfactory answers, but I cling to the belief that there is a greater purpose. Personally, I see it as my responsibility to shape a brighter and more peaceful future. I dedicate my talent to all who need healing, using my music and traditional instruments to bring hope to others, even when it’s not easy, and perhaps especially then.