In the hills of Nyaruguru, Southern Province, a young mother once stood at the crossroads of survival and despair. As the persecution of Tutsis intensified, she gathered her children and fled across the border into neighboring Burundi.
Exile was a harsh teacher, but the family clung to a simple, powerful set of values inherited from her father: reject evil, pursue good. Among the seven siblings was the third-born, Bernadette Mujawamariya (not her real name).
Amidst the hardships of refugee life, Bernadette found an unexpected calling. She became fascinated by the lives of nuns, often visiting them to ask what it truly took to dedicate one’s life to God.
At 19, she entered the convent, trading the uncertainty of the camps for a life of strict discipline and service. For three years, the rules were absolute—she saw neither her family nor the outside world.
By 1990, Bernadette had taken her first vows. However, her devotion was as practical as it was prayerful. She moved to Buta, Burundi, to study nursing, earning a diploma after two years of intense study.
It was a skill that would soon define her destiny. She did not know it yet, but her medical training was about to transform her from a cloistered sister into a frontline savior in the struggle for Rwanda’s liberation.
Witnessing Human Suffering
Burundi plunged into unrest after President Melchior Ndadaye’s assassination in 1993, displacing thousands. Many nuns, including Mujawamariya, sought refuge at her convent in Bujumbura.
Briefly relocated to Buvira in Zaire, she returned to Burundi to help her parents escape violence in Cibitoke, continuing her work at a health center in Muyinga. Meanwhile, tensions in Rwanda brew.
Mujawamariya followed developments through FPR Inkotanyi members, “Abakada,” who she met while assisting Rwandan refugees. In 1994, when the Genocide against the Tutsi erupted, she confronted the scale of human suffering firsthand.
“We found people exhausted, starving, half-naked, severely wounded, some dying. Red Cross workers were throwing medicine to them from a distance,” she recalls of her visits to refugees in Ngozi.
She requested permission to establish a small clinic. Though initially approved, the Bishop of Ngozi insisted authorization must come from the Pope in Rome. Shocked, she realized bureaucracies could not save lives in time.
Choosing the Frontlines
Mujawamariya felt a growing conviction and an urgent need to support the Inkotanyi directly. Discussing the plan with a fellow nun, she said, “We knew the Inkotanyi could not stop fighting to treat their wounded, they needed support.” Joined by a third nun, they left without informing their superiors.
Traveling to Nemba in Bugesera, they encountered soldiers who initially turned them back for lacking authorization. Undeterred, they returned to the border and were welcomed, fed, and transported through a country scarred by genocide.
Heavy rain fell, yet soldiers lightened the mood with humor as they passed through Gako military camp, arriving in Nyamata.
There, they were assigned to care for children orphaned by the genocide, survivors of massacres in Ntarama and surrounding areas. Mujawamariya worked tirelessly, often alongside older children to care for the youngest, a mission that would define her life of service.
Conflict with Convent Leadership
Despite their dedication, the convent leadership sought to recall them. Soldiers refused, insisting the children’s welfare came first.
“The soldier told them it was not possible. He asked, ‘You’ve seen the conditions here, these orphaned children, do you think you can just bring in new people and it works?’” In early 1995, Mujawamariya returned to Burundi out of loyalty, only to find disapproval.
She requested reassignment to Muyinga and quietly continued her work. When she learned her fellow nun in Rwanda was overwhelmed and ill, she returned to Rwanda without informing superiors.
Realizing they were being sidelined during the vows renewal process, Mujawamariya and her colleague made a decisive choice: they removed their habits and embraced civilian life. “We realized that without renewing our vows, we were no longer nuns, even if we still wore the habit,” she said.
Building a New Life
Faith remained central. “Obedience without purpose is not good. But if disobedience means saving lives, then it is justified, even if it costs your life,” she explained. After leaving the convent, Mujawamariya married in 1995, guided by prayer.
She raised six biological children and cared for many orphaned by the genocide against the Tutsi, pursued higher education in medicine, and balanced careers in public service and family business.
Now retired, she focuses on agriculture and livestock farming, preparing for old age while nurturing a household filled with flowers and gardens, a reflection of the values she instilled in her children.
She remains a devoted Catholic, emphasizing that religious life does not guarantee salvation. “Being a nun does not guarantee it, some may not make it. In fact, it is even harder because they are held to a higher standard.”
From a convent in Burundi to the frontlines of the liberation struggle, from caring for genocide orphans to raising a family, her story is one of courage, conviction, and enduring purpose, a life rooted in values that guide her through history’s darkest moments into the quiet dignity of everyday life.
