Diary of a Mass Murder: The Journals of Paul Kagame
Today it seems to me a sick joke that Fate should have chosen Tambwe as my birthplace. For this little village in Rwanda is situated in the middle of a mosquito infested malarial backwoods. But when a mass murderer such as myself takes into consideration that malaria is the number one killer of humans in Africa, my otherwise uneventful birth attains a poetic aura to it. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Paul Kagame of the Bega clan, son of a royal cattle herder, number one human killer of humans in Africa.
My birth happened during a Social Revolution where the once marginalized Hutus and poor Tutsis overthrew the Tutsi monarchy and declared a republic. Still a child, my family and I, Tutsi descendants of the despised psychopathic Queen Kanjogera (dubbed the Elizabeth Báthory of Africa for her cruelty and propensity for cutting off the genitals of her subjects and hanging them on a drum) fled to neighboring Uganda.
Though the upheavals and social unrest characteristic of any revolution were cause for concern, and many who fled Rwanda did so for safety, some like my family actually did it because we swore that we would rather live as refugees in a foreign country than live under Hutu rule.
Long story short, in Uganda, most of my peers and I grew up being indoctrinated about our right to rule over Hutus. This is why many of us readily followed Kaguta Museveni, a Ugandan Tutsi of the Hima sub-clan who believed in some crazy, crackpot, esoteric vision based on the pseudo-historical mythical Cwezi Empire, that would see Tutsis conquer all the land across Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Western Tanzania and Eastern Congo; all this conquered land would be a Hima-Tutsi Empire, Museveni claimed, and Tutsis would rule it as overlords, the local peoples as serfs.
Trust me, we all thought Museveni was insane, but the baldy had a way of sweet talking both regional and global leaders into supporting his very unpopular rebellion, so it goes without saying that we found ourselves constantly gravitating towards him as both our leader, and ideological mentor. Matter of fact, Museveni was so good that in the late 1980s, he was able to get Hutu president Juvenal Habyarimana who had ruled Rwanda from 1972 through a period of peace, to support our rebellion in Uganda. Little did goodhearted naive Habyarimana know...
Like many non-populist rebellions in the bushes of Africa, ours would have fizzled out or morphed into banditry had not the powers that be at the Pentagon saw a chance to use us. As the Soviet Union was coming undone, the Americans, now unchallenged in global geopolitics, needed to create geopolitical proxies and we, were it: a small minority that would help America exploit the region because our survival as a political hegemony would solely depend on America arming and funding us. Basically, without America, we stand little chance through a violent rise to power, and no chance at all through democratic means. If America were to cut the umbilical cord, the people of Rwanda and Uganda would overthrow us in a day.
Thanks to Museveni doing away with his guerilla bush war pseudo-Marxist pretensions and embracing the geopolitical plan the Pentagon offered him, overnight, he was suddenly the president of Uganda. My Tutsi peers and I not only found ourselves running not just the Ugandan military, but the entire Ugandan state apparatus. Immediately after, as Uganda's Chief of Intelligence, I was picked for training at Fort Leavenworth in the US. Right then I knew the conquest of Rwanda was in the bag.
In 1990, America finally gave us her blessings and all Tutsi officers in the Ugandan military led a surprise invasion of Rwanda. We had the element of surprise, we had American training, we had American funding and weaponry, we had a Ugandan home-base to always retreat to where Rwanda could not touch us, we had the entire Ugandan military at our disposal, we had logistical support from Burundi and Tanzania, we had no civilian casualties to take into consideration as the only civilian casualties would be Rwandan Hutus, who we constantly terrorized and killed so as to undermine Habyarimana's government. We had everything to our advantage; but somehow, not only did Rwanda fiercely fight and resist us for four years, Rwanda seemed to be winning!
After being humiliated in another failed February 1993 surprise invasion of Rwanda, we appealed to our American masters to come up with a new plan because the conquest of Rwanda seemed like a lost cause. Enter Plan B: using diplomacy as a weapon.
Our American masters and most of the West pressured, sanctioned and bullied Habyarimana into having talks with us, the same people that were killing and terrorizing Rwandans. These talks ushered in the infamous Arusha Accords where we played Habyarimana and Rwanda for fools. According to the accords, Habyarimana was not only to share power with other parties like my RPF which did not even have a supporter base inside Rwanda, but he was also preemptively made to decommission a majority of the Rwandan Armed Forces, leaving only a small, war-weary number who were in turn made to reduce their ammunition and hand in their heavy weaponry to the United Nations Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR) for "safekeeping" ; and to add icing on this plainsight invasion cake, Rwanda was to allow some of my armed soldiers inside Kigali as part of the talks; yes, the Trojan Horse tactic and they fell for it!
What happened next was the easy part: the UNAMIR under pathological liar Romeo Dallaire and the CIA under Roger Winters helped sneak anti-aircraft missiles that the Russians had sold to Uganda in 1989 - into Kigali where they were kept at the UN base at Rwanda's international airport. Days later, I gave the order and my soldiers in Kigali at the UN base fired the missiles at Habyarimana's private jet as both he and Ntaryamira the Hutu president of Burundi were coming from the Arusha talks in Tanzania. And just like that, naive Juvenal Habyarimana, known as "Kinani" or the Invincible One, was no more. So much for the Arusha Accords, all they had achieved so far was to cripple the once fearsome Rwandan Armed Forces like planned, and now I did not have to share power with Hutus, I could just grab it.
The Pentagon had predicted that by shooting the plane, about 25,000 or 50,000 people would die in the ensuing ignition of ethnic strife - which they accepted as acceptable collateral because come on, it's just Africans, and it guaranteed an excuse for regime change as per the American geopolitical plan for the Great Lakes of Africa. And boy were they wrong! Waaay more people died! The numbers could have been fewer, but when the UN asked to intervene, I ordered them not to and said I would kill anyone who tried to intervene. They listened, and I had months where I carried out a brutal conquest and wholesale killings as all who died would conveniently be labelled as solely the victims of the Interahamwe who were in a frenzy after seeing the nightmare they feared for four years come to fruition.
The numbers of the dead were in the hundreds of thousands, more than the entire Tutsi population of Rwanda at the time. But what's funny is, I've managed to guilt trip the entire world that it was only Tutsis killed in the hundreds of thousands and by some estimates, millions, even though that makes no statistical or logical sense whatsoever! Yes, those morbid skulls you see on display in Rwanda when the world "remembers" are mostly Hutus, most of whom died at the hands of my invading army from Uganda. But all of you will lament them as only Tutsis because I say so, and because you're sheep - easy to manipulate. The Hollywood film Hotel Rwanda is after all you sheep need to know what really happened and establish the "good" and the 'bad" guys, am I right?
As mentioned, the genocide I had sparked and took part in was not just an excuse to grab all power, but an excuse to go on a killing spree inside Rwanda, and even outside of Rwanda - killing millions more of defenseless Hutu refugees in Zaire (the Congo) while claiming to be pursuing those who committed the same genocide I started and took part in. With the armies of Uganda, Angola and Burundi, and logistical support from the CIA, I was even able to change the government in Kinshasa with Joseph Kabila Senior as a puppet president, while simultaneously hunting and killing Hutus across the Congo in what had become the First Congo War.
But my blood-thirst was so high that the non-stop butchering of Hutu refugees I was carrying out, turned not just Angola and my puppet Kabila Senior against me, but a few African nations namely Zimbabwe and Namibia rose up to stop the carnage I was unleashing. This in turn started the Second Congo War which was essentially an African World War. The numbers of those who I had killed in both wars had now surpassed World War Two death tolls. Thankfully in today's historical accounts, only Hitler is demonized and lambasted as the only monster who killed millions. I get to kill millions more and be praised for stopping a genocide I actually started...yes, YOU are sheep.
And that's just the gist of it; my story in its entirety is full of way more infliction of suffering, more calumny, more treachery, a lot of romance and way more cold-blooded killings - like the other subtle genocide I am carrying out right now, whereby I am slowly kill Tutsis of the royal Nyiginya Clan; and of course, the brutal political repression in Rwanda. My story is having managed to stay in power all this time thanks to the support of people like the Clintons and Tony Blair, who through Western media portray me as an angel - which means yours truly, probably the most vicious mass murderer alive today, has gotten away with everything. And will probably continue doing so. I am not just like any other dictator that those who gave me power like Clinton and the Pentagon can toss away. My fall would result in the world realizing the genocide in Rwanda was collateral damage gone wrong that Bill Clinton accepted just so he can put me in power; it would mean that Hitler didn't commit the most efficient genocide of the last century, Bill Clinton did! So rest easy, my friends in the West have my back. As for you Rwandan, Burundian and Congolese, my friends in the West have a whip for your back, and I will show them the most painful spots to direct their lashes.
Follow me, as I tell you of my life now, as I occasionally recall of my life of blood-spilling back then, as I end more lives every single day; and no one can do a damn thing about it.
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© 2017 Paul Kagame