Chapter twenty June 14 The cathedral of St Famille is close to Kigali’s commercial centre. Set in extensive grounds and surrounded by a high wall, it must have seemed the ideal sanctuary to people whose lives were at risk. Both Hutus and Tutsis fled there in droves when the violence began. As the weeks passed and the church became more crowded, many refugees were turned away. Of the Tutsis who did gain entrance, most had to pay a bribe at the gate. The priest in charge of the church, Father Wenceslas Munyeshyaka, divided the refugees according to ethnicity and discriminated against the Tutsis. The first massacre at St Famille took place on 15 April, claiming the lives of more than 100 Tutsi men and boys. Fr Munyeshyaka witnessed the abductions, but although he had a phone, survivors said he made no effort to call for help.
We left at 5am. Rurangwa told me to tie Roger to my back, and he carried David. We walked to the nearest roadblock, where a driver and car were waiting for us. Rurangwa sat in the front beside the driver, and I took the back seat with the children. ‘If we get stopped I will answer any questions about your identity,’ said Rurangwa. ‘If they ask you about your papers, just say that they have been lost.’ I knew that Rurangwa was taking a big risk for me. I was terribly nervous as we set off, hardly daring to look out of the car windows. My nerves began to settle as we were waved through several roadblocks: the military uniforms were our passport. But when we reached a major checkpoint in the city centre, Rurangwa was ordered out of the car. I kept my head down, praying that all 61