A music video titled “Umurage w’amateka” (the legacy of history) and published the year preceding the book gave early indications of the approach Claver would later take.
The video featured engaging animations, aimed at enabling audiences to visualize the difficult topics of the dark past and the present in a child-friendly manner.
“I used illustrations, images, very light texts that children can understand. And my intention was not to talk about the suffering of the past. The content is a combination of blissful memories that I had with my family and the dark that I’m not able to (directly) describe as genocide, but rather mentioned it as something that happened and changed my life.”
The result is a nuanced view of his childhood experiences, avoiding explicit references to genocide, and opting instead for language that conveys significant change and impact without inducing trauma.
With the second book, Irakoze aimed to initiate sensitive conversations, offering parents a means to engage with their children on the genocide.
“Transmitting Memories in Rwanda – From a Survivor Parent to the Next Generation,” being more academic in its style, appears to be speaking to parents and attempting to equip them with tips to engage in meaningful conversations about the past with their children.
“We write to inspire, we write to preserve the memory, but we also write to educate,” Irakoze explained.
And the feedback he received from both parents and children, he said, is positive, highlighting the books’ role in fostering inter-generational conversation.
Healing through writing
But as much as writing is a means to preserve memory and inspire others, he pointed out the experience is emotionally draining.
Yet, at the end of the day, “it helps you navigate and make sense of your past and present.”
In so saying, Irakoze echoes a general understanding among psychologists, grief counsellors, and practitioners that there is an intricate relationship between writing, memory preservation, and the healing process.
His act of writing hence turned out to be both a personal cathartic journey and a public act of memorialization, helping him and potentially his targeted audience: parents and their children navigate the complexities of trauma and recovery.
“By revisiting your past, you confront that fear that resides within you, and it helps you heal progressively,” he remarked.
He uses his writing to engage in a dialogue with both the past and the future, aiming to heal personal wounds while contributing to a broader understanding and remembrance of the atrocities experienced.
That experience is not straightforward, nonetheless.
“I cannot say the healing is completely achieved,” he conceded, “because healing is not linear. Today you are at a good level, and you feel better, but tomorrow a life experience hits you, and it reminds you what you miss or what you lost, and it takes you back.”
While acknowledging the therapeutic potential of sharing and documenting traumatic experiences, Irakoze also recognizes the mental health risks associated with re-traumatization for both the storyteller and the audience.
He warned that the dual objectives of educating the public and preserving the dignity of survivors’ stories must be navigated carefully to ensure that the educational value does not come at the expense of emotional harm.
