Ramadan: Islam in Rwanda
By
-
August
7, 2012
183
For
many Muslims, the month of Ramadan brings them closer to Allah. In
Rwanda, The AfricaPaper’s correspondent was invited to attend the
nightly Taraweeh prayers at Kigali’s Islamic Cultural Centre.
Mary
Katherine Keown
| Rwanda
Boys
pray during taraweeh prayers
Kigali
– They rise in unison, standing solemnly, shoulder to shoulder,
embraced by prayer and contemplation. The imam recites verses from
the Qur’an as the congregation grows, late-comers arriving with
bellies full from Iftar feasts that signal an end to the day’s
fast. It is Ramadan, the holy month of fasting and prayer, and I have
been invited to attend the nightly Taraweeh prayers at Kigali’s
Islamic Cultural Centre.
‘Gaddafi’s
Mosque’
Gaddafi’s
Mosque in Nyamirambo
By
the time the imam concludes the prayers and recitations, there are
about 200 men in the cavernous white sanctuary of the mosque. Known
as ‘Gaddafi’s mosque’ for the late leader who financed its
construction, it sits near the end of the main road that snakes
through the neighborhood of Nyamirambo, across from the city’s
second-largest football field. The centre is a hub of activity.
The Islamic Cultural Centre is arguably the grandest of Kigali’s mosques, but an increasing number of sanctuaries pepper the city’s neighborhoods as Islam gains popularity throughout the country. Mahfoud el-Roinia, director of the Islamic Cultural Centre, and Isaac Munyakrazi, director of the centre’s secondary school, contend about 20 per cent of people living in Rwanda follow Islam, but most sources indicate Muslims account for approximately 14 per cent of the population, up from seven per cent before the 1994 genocide, which tore apart Rwanda at the seams and claimed at least 800,000 lives over the course of 100 days. The bloodthirsty militias, known as the Interahamwe, and other genocidaires hunted Tutsis and moderate Hutus, with the goal of complete extermination. (Some estimate more than one million people were slaughtered during the nightmare of the genocide). Men, women and children were slaughtered indiscriminately, individually or in large groups, often after seeking refuge in churches.
The Islamic Cultural Centre is arguably the grandest of Kigali’s mosques, but an increasing number of sanctuaries pepper the city’s neighborhoods as Islam gains popularity throughout the country. Mahfoud el-Roinia, director of the Islamic Cultural Centre, and Isaac Munyakrazi, director of the centre’s secondary school, contend about 20 per cent of people living in Rwanda follow Islam, but most sources indicate Muslims account for approximately 14 per cent of the population, up from seven per cent before the 1994 genocide, which tore apart Rwanda at the seams and claimed at least 800,000 lives over the course of 100 days. The bloodthirsty militias, known as the Interahamwe, and other genocidaires hunted Tutsis and moderate Hutus, with the goal of complete extermination. (Some estimate more than one million people were slaughtered during the nightmare of the genocide). Men, women and children were slaughtered indiscriminately, individually or in large groups, often after seeking refuge in churches.
In
search of Islam
Mosque
Interior
Suleiman
Kamana understands why so many have converted. Ever a man of faith,
12 years ago he replaced the Bible with the Qur’an. A life-long
Christian and a Protestant pastor before the events of 1994, Kamana
spent five years studying and contemplating Islam before finally
converting in 2000.
“I
was attracted to Islam because of the way Muslims conducted
themselves in 1994,” he says. “Most did not participate in the
genocide, so I was curious to find out why they did not kill. I
thought maybe their book condemned such action.”
Kamana
was seeking answers. He survived the genocide by taking refuge in
Goma, in the North Kivu province of the Democratic Republic of the
Congo (DRC). Many Rwandans fled during the genocide – or tried to –
into the DRC, via the border towns of Gisenyi and Goma. Crossing the
border saved Kamana’s life. All of his family members who stayed in
Rwanda – 113 in total – were murdered during those terrible days.
He
spent a year reading the Qur’an and discovered it condemns violence
against others while espousing equality amongst individuals.
“Man
is man and we’re all products of Adam and Eve,” Kamana explains.
“If you kill your brother, you have no place in paradise.”
Witnessing
Terror
As
planning for the genocide got underway, Muslim leaders began
denouncing violence and in 1994, witnessing the terror taking place
around them, they spoke out against the propaganda fueling the war.
They condemned the massacres and implored their congregations to
abstain from acts of murder. Mosques were repurposed as the hunted
sought refuge from the thugs and militias carrying out the genocide.
“The
majority of Muslims did not participate in the genocide,” Sheikh
Musa Sindayigaya, the country’s deputy mufti, says. “They
announced their condemnation in local mosques, by issuing subtle
messages. People pray five times per day, so this allowed leaders to
convey their messages effectively.”
Roots
of Islam
Studying
the Qu’ran
Introduced
to Rwanda in the 19th
century by traders from East Africa, Islam was initially a polarizing
force, Sindayigaya says. The colonial government, which had close
ties to the Catholic church, discriminated against Muslims. They were
made to live in isolated settlements; they were banned from owning
land, and barred from farming or rearing animals. In order to pursue
higher education, Muslims were forced to adopt secular names and
personas.
At
independence, wishing to be free from restrictive and oppressive
colonial decrees, the Muslim community sided with Tutsis, forging
business partnerships and friendships.
“They
faced discrimination, as well as the Tutsis. In such cases, you
should get together and live together, so that you can face the
challenges together,” Sindayigaya says. “This relationship
extended to sharing food and sports, but not in politics, as Muslims
did not participate in government. Because of the discrimination they
faced under colonial rule, they were not educated and couldn’t join
political parties.”
Sindayigaya,
who claims that until 1994 he did not even know to which tribe he
belongs, is adamant that tribe was, and remains, irrelevant. Hutus
and Tutsis fought side-by-side against colonial oppression. Today,
they stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the country’s mosques.
“We
don’t have tribes in our religion. We have no reserved seating in
the mosques. It’s ‘first come, first seated in the mosque,” he
tells me. “Our system brings people together; it strengthens
togetherness.”
Neighbors
Individual
members of the Muslim community also offered shelter to their
neighbours and friends during the 1994 genocide.
“Muslims
tried to behave positively during the genocide; they hid both Muslims
and non-Muslims,” Sheikh Sindayigaya tells me.
Yahaya
Nsengiyumva estimates he harboured 50 people. A mechanic with
Onatracom, one of Rwanda’s many bus companies, he has warm eyes, a
kind smile and, at 65 years of age, the aura of someone at peace with
his life. We meet at the garage where he works. Inside this urban bus
yard, laden with oil-stained concrete and cluttered with rusting
vehicles, the call to prayer – from the large green mosque across
the street – fills the stillness of a humid August afternoon and
clings to the many gas tanks and the yard’s lone tree.
Nsengiyumva,
born into a family of Seventh Day Adventists, turned to Islam at the
age of 15. He says the sense of community – a kinship – is a
keystone in the foundation of Kigali’s Muslim community. In fact,
his home was flagged as a safe haven because he was considered a
community leader and many believed Tutsis would be safe in his care.
Nsengiyumva tells me he did it quite simply because he loves people.
He also “had a big gate,” he says matter-of-factly, which the
Interahamwe could not easily penetrate. Nsengiyumva’s son, one of
seven children, helped him by standing guard and brandishing weapons
on occasion, in order to intimidate the roaming militias.
“I
was just trying to follow the Qur’an, which tells us not to
mistreat others,” Nsengiyumva says, sitting forward to emphasize
his point. “My parents taught us to love everyone as creations of
God. I grew up believing we’re all equal, all one.” He tells me
his imam also condemned the massacres taking place throughout the
country.
“It
didn’t matter whether or not they were Muslim – the Qur’an
teaches us we’re all equal,” He says. Nsengiyumva’s heroism is
chronicled at the Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre and the Rwandan
Patriotic Front, the ruling party, has honoured him for his actions.
He
still lives in the house he occupied in 1994 and says many of his
neighbours are survivors who sought refuge under his roof.
“I’m
not a hero, I did what I did because of God. All thanks should go to
God,” he says modestly.
Prayers
and Forgiveness
Taraweeh
prayer
Suleiman
Kamana is an ardent practitioner and these days, he relies on regular
prayer for comfort, calm and communion with God.
“Your
heart is clean and calm,” after praying, he explains. “Prayer is
also an opportunity to seek forgiveness from God.”
We
are sitting at Simba Café, a popular spot in downtown Kigali, during
the month of Ramadan. Kamana is fasting, but even during the summer
heat, which is relentless at mid-day, he is undeterred from his
spiritual path. During a momentary lapse, I offer him a soda. He
declines gracefully. Islam is his eye in the storm.
He
is especially contemplative during the holy month and says it teaches
adherents how to live on Earth and before God.
No comments:
Post a Comment