Success and Failure Blog

“Should I have despaired, sunk into depression, or become hysterical over our plight?  That would have made matters worse.  People need hope to survive.”

– a passage from Left to Tell by Immaculee Ilibagiza

Ms Ilibagiza is a survivor of the war and genocide in Rwanda.  She is the author of  Left to Tell : discovering God amidst the Rwandan holocaust, which she wrote with the help of Steve Erwin and was published in 2006.

The book chronicles her astonishing life story. A story of survival during the civil unrest in Rwanda during the late 1990′s.

Immaculee Ilibagiza grew up in a country she loved, surrounded by a family she cherished. In 1994, she was a student at the National University of Rwanda, visiting her Tutsi family, when the slaughter began. . But in 1994 her idyllic world was ripped apart as Rwanda descended into a bloody genocide. Immaculee’s family was brutally murdered during a killing spree that lasted three months and claimed the lives of nearly a million Rwandans. Incredibly, Immaculee survived the slaughter. For 91 days, she and seven other women huddled silently together in the cramped bathroom of a local pastor while hundreds of machete-wielding killers hunted for them. It was during those endless hours of unspeakable terror that Immaculee discovered the power of prayer, eventually shedding her fear of death and forging a profound and lasting relationship with God. She emerged from her bathroom hideout having discovered the meaning of truly unconditional love–a love so strong she was able seek out and forgive her family’s killers.

The triumphant story of this remarkable young woman’s journey through the darkness of genocide will inspire anyone whose life has been touched by fear, suffering, and loss. This is Immaculee’s first book. Her second book, Led by faith : rising from the ashes of the Rwandan genocide, also written with the help of Steve Erwin, was published in 2008. In Led By Faith, Immaculee takes us with her as her remarkable journey continues. Through her simple and eloquent voice, we experience her hardships and heartache as she struggles to survive and to find meaning and purpose in the aftermath of the holocaust.  It is the story of a naive and vulnerable young woman, orphaned and alone, navigating through a bleak and dangerously hostile world with only an abiding faith in God to guide and protect her.  Immaculee fends off sinister new predators, seeks out and comforts scores of children orphaned by the genocide, and searches for love and companionship in a land where hatred still flourishes. Then, fearing again for her safety as Rwanda’s war-crime trials begin, Immaculee flees to America to begin a new chapter of her life as a refugee and immigrant-a stranger in a strange land.  With the same courage and faith in God that led her through the darkness of genocide, Immaculeacutee discovers a new life that was beyond her wildest dreams as a small girl in a tiny village in one of Africa’s poorest countries. It is in the United States, her adopted country, where Immaculeacutee can finally look back at all that has happened to her and truly understand why God spared her life . . . so that she would be left to tell her story to the world.

Ms. Ilibagiza writes personally and vividly about how her deep religious faith sustained her in the years following the massacre. Although most of her family were murdered, and threats to her life would eventually force her to flee for the U.S. (with husband and while pregnant),  Ilibagiza’s belief in reconciliation never falters: “we will never heal as individuals, or as a nation, until we can forgive each other and start forgiving ourselves.”  Whether or not readers share her faith, this hard-to-put-down memoir is an inspiring tale of courage and humanity under the most calamitous of circumstances.

Immaculee immigrated to the United States in 1998. She secured a position and began working at the United Nations in New York City.  She is currently a full-time public speaker and writer. In 2007 she was awarded The Mahatma Gandhi International Award for Reconciliation and Peace.  Also in that same year,  she established the Left to Tell Charitable Fund to help support Rwandan orphans and others who suffered from the long-term effects of genocide and war.   She has received numerous humanitarian awards including the Christopher Award, for “affirming the highest values of human spirit.”

Michele Fritzler is the sister of my first love, Barry Henriot who died of a brain aneurysm when I was 22 and he was 25 back in 1982.  After his death I “adopted” his mom (Ruth) and father (Al) and had dinner with them every Sunday for a few years until Ruth and Al moved up to Oregon to be closer to their daughter, Michele,  in 1991. Barry and Michele’s dad, Al died in 1994.

Even though I have only seen Michele less than a hand full of few times, we have come to accept each other as “sisters” because of our mutual love for her family and especially Barry.  He has been gone for so long that there is barely anyone remaining in her life that ever knew him; making his existence in the past that much more unreal. It was with panic last December that I realized that I had lost her mom’s mailing address and phone number and was desperately hoping that I would get her annual Christmas card so I could tell her that my book was going to be published with a dedication in it to Barry that I had put in there more almost 30 years ago.

I fired off a letter to her the next day asking her to call me and that I had something important to tell them. To my relief I got to speak with Ruth on 12/15/08 and let her know that the story I had worked on for so many years was going to be published.  Ruth sounded like her old sweet self but much more frail.  I promised to send her a copy of the first book off the press as soon as I got it.  In early January 2009 I mailed a copy of The Victor to Ruth who was now living with Michele and a few weeks later I got an urgent email from Michele asking me to call because she had lost my phone number.  With dread I called and Michele told me the news which just broke my heart.  Ruth had died about a week earlier and my book had arrived on the day of her funeral.  I couldn’t help but burst into tears.  Ruth Henriot had been like a second mother to me and she had never gotten to see the book dedicated to her long gone son, Barry, who I had loved dearly.

Last August I got to see Michele for perhaps only the third time in my life but it was just like being with family.  We talked for hours and reminnisced.  Michele is the only member left of the Henriot family but like me, we hope to all be reunited again.  This story is my gift to her.

More Than a Memory

The rain came down in heavy drops and in only moments, Michele’s hair and clothes were drenched.  Living in Oregon for years, she never carried an umbrella (only the tourists did) and put up with the constant rain like everyoe else.

Now rivulets of cold rain water were beginning to run down inside her collar and drench her from the inside out. She needed to take cover.  To her right was a revolving door leading into a Starbucks and without a second thought she ducked in for a quick respite and a  white chocolate raspberry latte to warm her up.

The site that greeted her eyes paralyzed and completely disoriented her.  She blinked, rubbed her eyes and shook her head, her mouth gaping as her surroundings refused to change back into reality.  Before her was the living room of her Huntington Beach home the way it looked when she had lived there with her brother, Barry.  Immediately tears sprang into her eyes with the familiar ache that clutched her heart.

“Is that you Michele?” sang a voice from the kitchen.  The beloved voice sent a thrill through her heart and her voice caught in her throat. Had she fallen unconscious? Was she having a dream?   Having received no response, Ruth poked her head through the doorway. “Cat got your tongue?” she grinned at her dumbstruck daughter.

Michele’s mouth moved but no sound would come out as she stared at the face of her dear mother who had passed away just under a year ago.  At that moment a figure walked up behind her and pinched her in the ribs, making her scream. She whirled around and standing there alive and as if he had never aged, was her brother Barry.

He grinned at her and gave her a bear hug but there was no feedback from the hearing aids he used to always wear.  He stepped back and pointed at his head with a lopsided grin. “I hear great now!”

Michele’s eyes traveled hungrily up and down the length of him. Same wavy brown hair, twinkly eyes, mischievous grin, dimples and plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up as if 25 plus years had never passed.  The tears now spilled down her cheeks unabated and a sob of joy caught in her throat. With a look of understanding compassion on his face, Barry enfolded her into his arms and let her sob.  Michele could barely hear the familiar footsteps behind her on the floor and then her mom’s arms were about her.

“Al, just don’t sit there watching the game, get in here!” Ruth yelled.  At that, Michele pulled back and turned around to see her father stride towards them, his arms held out wide. She flew into them, crying even harder.

“There now,” soothed her mom in her wonderful accent. “Do you really want to spend your entire visit with us crying? You’re scaring Sonny!”

“Meooooww!” agreed the gorgeous Himalayan cat, entering the room. This was all just too much!

“I don’t understand!” was all Michele could manage, shaking uncontrollably.  Al, Ruth, Barry and even Sonny all stared at her in sympathy. “Am I dreaming or dead?”

“Neither!” chorused all (except Sonny) in unison. “This is a gift, sis.” Explained Barry gesturing to the family dinner table laden with a Thanksgiving turkey and all the fixings. “The Lord thought you’d enjoy one more day and meal with us all together again.”

Michele clutched at her heart. It was all too much to take in and yet she couldn’t deny it was what she had secretly longed for more often than she could say but there was still something missing.  A lot of “somethings”.  As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” cried Barry with a wink in his sister’s direction and bounded over to the door.  He opened it up to reveal Michele’s husband, Dave, and all their kids.

“Uncle Barry!” they all shrieked, not the least bit shocked or bewildered.  Barry hugged and pounded Dave on the back with glee and hugged each of Michele’s kids in turn as if he had known them all his life.  They in turn hugged his neck with equal glee and then everyone circled around the table and grabbed each other’s hands.

Marlayne, Barry + Kitten 1982

“Barry, would you lead us all in thanks to the Lord?” smiled Ruth, winking at Michele.

“I was hoping you’d ask!” Barry grinned. At that everyone bowed their heads as Michele’s beloved brother led them all in a prayer of thanksgiving for a reunited family that was separated only by the very thinnest veil of eternity.

THE END