Aliane Umutoniwase sits at Kivu Noir Coffee Shop, working on a project proposal for a client.
The gentle hum of conversations fills the air, the aroma of fresh coffee lingers, but her mind is elsewhere. She is 27, a computer science graduate, ambitious, full of dreams. Rwanda has given her that chance—peace, stability, the freedom to dream without fear.
But peace is fragile. Rwanda understands this better than anyone.
Then the news breaks—Congo is shelling Rwanda again. Sixteen people are dead, over a hundred injured. Goma has been captured by M23. Aliane’s hands tremble. A chill runs through her spine. Tears well up in her eyes.
See, she is the daughter of a genocide survivor. Her mother lost her entire family in 1994, except for an uncle who was in the army. She grew up hearing stories of horror, of loved ones slaughtered, their bodies never recovered. And now, decades later, she fears history is trying to repeat itself. Her paranoia is valid.
“I hope this doesn’t end up in war,” she whispers, barely audible. “I dread it. I hope President Kagame will do as he promised, protect us from this evil.”
Indeed, Kagame has repeatedly assured Rwandans that they should sleep soundly because their security is covered. But Aliane cannot shake the fear creeping into her mind.
She glances at the owner of the coffee shop, a young man like her—born after the ashes. His family, too, endured the stranglehold of the genocide. Their parents fought for a country free of fear, a country where their children would never inherit chaos, a shattered state, or endless adversity lurking across the borders.
But this is not just paranoia. This is recognition of a replica. The formula in Eastern DRC is the same. The ideology is the same.
Congolese Tutsis are being hunted down, slaughtered, buried in mass graves. Others are left to rot on the hills. Homes are burned. Properties looted. The hate speech that once boomed from Rwandan radios in 1994 now echoes through the streets of Congo.
Rwanda knows this evil. It has seen it before. And it knows that if left unchecked, it will not stop at the border.
And yet, the world looks away.
Instead of addressing the root cause—the entrenched hate festering in eastern DRC—it diverts attention to minerals. The accusations are predictable, almost rehearsed. Rwanda is looting. Rwanda is plunging into Congo’s resources. Rwanda is backing M23. That’s where the conversation ends.
But that’s precisely where the inquiry should begin.
Who are they?
What do they stand for?
What’s in it for Rwanda?
The answers would vindicate Rwanda. And that is precisely why no one dares to ask.
Because to ask is to expose the contradiction.
Whenever there is dissent, an enemy, a rebel group against Rwanda, they all use this territory. Eastern DRC is not just a war zone—it is a breeding ground.
An entrenched territory of hate. All descendants of genocide perpetrators, those who have consumed the dose of genocide ideology, find refuge here or sponsor the activities. They regroup, reorganize, and wait. They are given shelter, resources, weapons, and a platform to spew the very poison that led to 1994.
Now, for the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), this is not just another security concern. It is an existential threat. The RPF came to power with a promise, a commitment to its people—never again. Among its nine guiding pillars, one stands apart: fighting genocide and its ideology.
This is how RPF puts it: “RPF-INKOTANYI is determined to fight against genocide ideology to prevent its reoccurrence anywhere else and will fight this ideology with all its strength, whether in Rwanda, the Great Lakes region, or anywhere else in the world.”
This is not a campaign pledge. It is not a diplomatic statement. It is a contract with history, a contract with people like Aliane Umutoniwase. She was not born to inherit a Rwanda at war. She does not want to wake up one day and see her generation fighting the battles her parents fought.
And President Kagame knows this.
On February 25, this year, a crucial political gathering, Retired General James Kabarebe and RPF Secretary General Wellars Gasamagera sat before the leaders of various political parties.
Kabarebe, known for his blunt and direct style, wasted no time. “This is it,” he declared. “It’s time to fight once and for all,” he said, reminding them that it’s the last call after several attempts since 1996.
https://x.com/peterkagabo/status/1894324759808414178?s=46
He spoke of the patterns Rwanda has seen over the years—the repeated efforts to destabilize the country, the external forces fueling the enemies of peace, and the threats creeping closer from eastern Congo. This is not the time for division. It is a time for absolute unity behind Kagame.
Gasamagera reinforced the call. He urged party leaders to mobilize their supporters, to rally them behind the cause. Rwanda’s security is not a partisan issue—it is a national duty. The stakes are too high.
They both know that Rwanda has been here before. They have fought these battles before. But now, after decades of resistance, there has to be a finality. This cycle cannot continue.
Notably, to make sense of it all. Remember that President Félix Tshisekedi found this sleeping snake coiled within his government. His predecessor, Joseph Kabila, had downplayed it—he allowed it to flourish in the shadows but did not let it fully show its face. Tshisekedi, however, opened its doors. When his incompetence took over, he did not just tolerate it; he embraced it.
He then invited a known genocide sympathizer, Burundian President Évariste Ndayishimiye, to join the mission of exterminating Rwanda’s kin. Thousands of Rwandaphones and Congolese Tutsis have been massacred, and yet Ndayishimiye brags about it. He has the backing, albeit. Tshisekedi’s government fuels anti-Tutsi sentiment with state-sponsored hate speech, mirroring the darkest days of Rwanda’s history.
As for Ndayishimiye, deeply entrenched in genocide ideology, aligns himself with the remnants of the genocidal forces that fled Rwanda in 1994. Their alliances , the Wazalendo government sponsored militia, all have the same ideological DNA; Extermination. It can happen in DRC, Burundi or else where, but its roots will stretch all the way to Rwanda. It’s terrifying. It unravels Rwandans.
And the retired teacher, like all grown up Rwandans know this very well. He watches the young generation move about their day. They want to live. That is all. They want to enjoy their coffee, work on their dreams,
build careers, raise families. They want to take peace for granted, like the rest of the world does. They do not want to be haunted by evil spirits lurking behind their backs, waiting for the right moment to strike.
But history is knocking. Rwanda has heard this knock before. And this time, it will not wait for the door to be broken down. That’s the RPF promise.