95 pages • 3 hours read
Immaculée IlibagizaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Left to Tell is written for Western audiences, and therefore many facets unique to Rwandan culture are explained so readers can comprehend the nuances of the book’s themes. Certain aspects of Rwandan culture may be completely foreign to Western audiences, such as the practices for familial surnames: “In Rwanda, every family member has a different last name. Parents give each child a unique surname at birth, one that reflects the feelings of the mother or father at the moment they first lay eyes on their new baby” (5). Information like this throughout the text offers a window into Rwandan culture.
Tribalism is another motif necessary to understand in order to comprehend the divide between Hutus and Tutsis. American readers may reference their own country’s Civil War, which was primarily a conflict that had to do with geography and political orientation (the abolitionist North vs. pro-slavery South), but this does not adequately compare to the Rwandan division between Hutus and Tutsis. In Chapter 2, Immaculée gives an overview of the conflict, to inform Western readers: “But our parents didn’t teach us about our own history. We didn’t know that Rwanda was made up of three tribes: a Hutu majority, a Tutsi minority; and a very small number of Twa, a pygmy-like tribe of forest dwellers” (14). Immaculée also explains colonialism’s role in strengthening the tribalistic divisions within Rwanda.
Rwandan culture is patriarchal, and conventional gender roles animate some of the struggles Immaculée must navigate during the genocide. As early as childhood, Immaculée’s role as a female means she must act in a certain way:
I was the third child, and the only girl, which, in a male-dominated society, put extra pressure on me. In Rwandan culture, having a “good name” is everything, and my parents were vigilant in making sure that their only daughter maintained a spotless reputation (11).
When the genocide begins, Tutsis of each gender pose a unique kind of security risk. For instance, because sexual assault and rape are always a threat for women, simply having women around is a security risk for men. On the other hand, Pastor Murnizi refuses to shelter male Tutsis because he could be seen as protecting potential RPF soldiers—it is less risky to shelter women, though that is also extremely dangerous. One possible reason it is less unacceptable to shelter women is because of their commodity as sexual objects:
In other killing sprees, some Hutu men had hidden Tutsi women while turning away Tutsi men. It was said that they hid Tutsi women because of their beauty, planning to claim them as their own after their menfolk were murdered. It was yet another way that Tutsis, especially Tutsi women, were brutalized. I began to think that the pastor had ulterior motives in taking in six women (68).
Immaculée’s faith in God is a central feature of Left to Tell. To highlight the intensity of her faith, religious imagery can be seen throughout the book. In Chapter 5, when Immaculée notes how the safety of her bedroom, a place of comfort“ was like my own little chapel. With my Bible and statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary on my night table, it was a place where I connected with God and my own spiritual energies” (42). In the bathroom, in Part II, Immaculée has near ecstatic religious experiences, which include visions of various religious figures and depictions of the Holy Spirit:
I sat stone-still on that dirty floor for hours on end, contemplating the purity of His energy, while the force of His love flowed through me like a sacred river, cleansing my soul and easing my mind. Sometimes I felt as though I were floating above my body, cradled in God’s mighty palm, safe in His loving hand. In my mind, I heard myself speaking in exotic languages I’d never heard before—I instinctively knew that I was praising God’s greatness and love (107).
In Rwandan culture, there is fluidity between “community” and “family.” That distinction is further blurred during the 1994 genocide, when so many nuclear families are torn apart. As an additional layer to this motif, there is a religious sense of community and family that exists among all “children of God” (94).
Immaculée’s parents treat their neighbors in the village as if they are “extended family, and the villagers often treated them like surrogate parents. For example, Dad had a reputation across the region as an educated, enlightened, and fair-minded man” (8). Early in Immaculée’s life, it is established that “community” is a nebulous term. Another instance of this motif happens in Part II when Immaculée, still confined in the bathroom, realizes that her parents may be dead: “Even if my parents had perished in the bloodshed outside, I would never be an orphan. I’d been born again in the bathroom and was now the loving daughter of God, my father” (107). In Chapter 13, Immaculée refers to God as her “only family”: “I wondered for the millionth time where my parents and brothers were and silently asked God to watch out for them: You’re the only family I can talk to now, God. I’m relying on you to take care of the others” (110). Even Pierre Mehu, the spokesman for the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda, who eventually gives Immaculée a job, uses familial language to describe their relationship: “‘From now on the UN will be a home for you, and you can talk to me like I’m your dad.’ I smiled until it hurt—God truly was keeping His promise by sending angels to look out for me” (189).