Bwitare the soldier, Nkusi the teacher, rest in power.

When our children ask, we’ll say we lived with heroes,

we’ll relate stories of men, and tales of women, who gave their hearts, dedicated their youth, their minds for the love for this land,

A land which took all from us, a place hard to live, a country which wisdom would advise to flee and avoid; that’s the country to which our elders gave their lives, that’s the place where we saw them fight, we saw them live, and we saw them die,

In Lays of Ancient Rome: ‘Then out spake brave Horatius, the captain of the Gate: To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his Gods?’

We saw heroes, we lived with them, we heard them speak, we watched them do, we know best, we’ll do best.

Nkusi and Bwitare were my friends, my mentors. I could never tell they were ill, indeed they weren’t; they were healthy, a fire burning in their hearts, overwhelmed with joy and love for Rwanda. They’d been ill for long, but it is their joy that overwhelmed those around them.

Nkusi the teacher and Bwitare the soldier, Ha! What a pair…

One fought, the other taught. Yet in his fighting, the soldier taught, while in his teachings, the teacher fought.

They had one fight, our fight, for dignity of Abanyarwanda, Abanyafrika.

They were buried here in Rwanda, their home, the home of their ancestors, where they were born, were senselessly oppressed, at times banished, died, survived, fought and now…

Now they rest. As Sebasoni would say: ‘do not be saddened by death, for we’ll meet in Rwanda on the last day’.

as the sun sets, their spirits retire to the volcanoes of the north, whence they sleep with God, until we meet again at last..

Go on home valiant heroes, Godspeed.

I believe I speak for many in saying we abanyarwanda were pleased with your presence in our midst.