Photo: @rezaphotography Rwanda, 1996 Alfonsine told me her story: “I named my son Placide in memory of the love we shared, his father and I. I was 17 when I met him. It was before the events of 1994, before this land was covered with the blood of hatred. He was a Hutu. I am a Tutsi. After the Hutu extremists started killing Tutsis, and the Tutsis retaliated by killing Hutus, I decided to leave with him, and we fled with the Hutus. I walked for days and nights, going toward an unknown future. The Hutus rejected me, but I was happy to be with him. Our child was born. Not long after, his father disappeared. I did not belong with the Hutu refugees any longer; I had lost my protector. I took Placide in my arms and returned home. But in my native village, my people reject us, as if they wanted to erase the love his father and I had, since it’s now forbidden for a Tutsi and a Hutu to be together. My brother wants to deny my past and steal my history from me in order to save his honor. He tells people that the Hutus took me by force, raping me and leaving me pregnant. But it was nothing like that. Only my grandfather, who has become withdrawn and silent because of the horrors that have happened in our country, loves us and supports us unconditionally.” The old man had been listening to his granddaughter’s story. He took his head in his hands. Only the pearls of despair in his eyes betrayed his emotion. #man #african#look #hands #face #portrait #rwandangenocide #hutu #tutsi #africa #drama #genocide #neverforget #grandfather #rape #sad #sadness #eyes #photooftheday #photojournalism #photojournalist #reza #rezaphoto #رضادقتى #عكاس #rezadeghati #rezaphotography #rezaphotojournalist #webistan @thephotosociety

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thephotosocietyのインスタグラム(thephotosociety) - 4月28日 23時34分


Photo: @rezaphotography
Rwanda, 1996

Alfonsine told me her story: “I named my son Placide in memory of the love we shared, his father and I. I was 17 when I met him. It was before the events of 1994, before this land was covered with the blood of hatred. He was a Hutu. I am a Tutsi. After the Hutu extremists started killing Tutsis, and the Tutsis retaliated by killing Hutus, I decided to leave with him, and we fled with the Hutus. I walked for days and nights, going toward an unknown future. The Hutus rejected me, but I was happy to be with him. Our child was born. Not long after, his father disappeared.

I did not belong with the Hutu refugees any longer; I had lost my protector. I took Placide in my arms and returned home. But in my native village, my people reject us, as if they wanted to erase the love his father and I had, since it’s now forbidden for a Tutsi and a Hutu to be together. My brother wants to deny my past and steal my history from me in order to save his honor. He tells people that the Hutus took me by force, raping me and leaving me pregnant. But it was nothing like that. Only my grandfather, who has become withdrawn and silent because of the horrors that have happened in our country, loves us and supports us unconditionally.” The old man had been listening to his granddaughter’s story. He took his head in his hands. Only the pearls of despair in his eyes betrayed his emotion. #man #african#look #hands #face #portrait #rwandangenocide #hutu #tutsi #africa #drama #genocide #neverforget #grandfather #rape #sad #sadness #eyes #photooftheday #photojournalism #photojournalist #reza #rezaphoto #رضادقتى #عكاس #rezadeghati #rezaphotography #rezaphotojournalist #webistan @thephotosociety


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