Where Pain Was Held with Love

Last year, in April 2024, as the world marked thirty years since the Rwandan genocide against the Tutsi, I found myself thousands of miles from home — in a small, soul-filled place called Nueva Colombia.

I’ve spent nearly 15 years sharing my story. I’ve spoken in classrooms, museums, global summits, and healing circles. I’ve carried memories, grief, and hope across continents. But something happened in Nueva Colombia that no stage had ever given me: a healing I didn’t even know I was longing for.

A Commemoration Like No Other

Kwibuka — “to remember” — is sacred. For survivors like me, it’s not just a word. It’s an invitation to sit with everything that was lost and everything that survived. I was invited to Nueva Colombia to speak, to remember, to represent my people.

But what I didn’t know was that they would remember with me. They would feel with me. That the women in this community would open a sacred space for my heart, my spirit, and my tears.

Mayora’s Song: A Gift I Will Never Forget

There are no words to describe what it meant when Mayora — a radiant Afro-Colombian singer and activist — sang a song written just for me. A song for my healing. A song for the little girl in me who never got to cry loud enough. A song for the woman I am now, still carrying the ashes of that past and the fire of what’s to come.

I remember crying — openly, uncontrollably — for the first time in years. I remember feeling safe. Completely understood. Seen. In that moment, I was not a survivor giving testimony. I was a woman being held.

The Spirit of Nueva Colombia

Nueva Colombia is a place of art, resistance, and community. They wear their culture like armor and joy. From handmade jaguar masks to the vibrant fabrics wrapped around women’s heads — everything in this city speaks to legacy and pride. And it was here, far from Rwanda, that I felt home.

Closing Reflection: From Colombia to Los Angeles

One year later, I prepare to give my testimony at Kwibuka 31 here in Los Angeles with my fellow Rwandan community. As I do, I carry the memory of Nueva Colombia with me — not as a distant visit, but as a sacred imprint on my soul.

They reminded me that remembrance is not only about pain. It is about being remembered — held, honored, healed.

Call to Action:

If you’ve ever found healing in an unexpected place, or if someone’s love helped you carry your pain, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Healing is never a solo journey.