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Archive
from the February 19, 1997 edition After Genocide, Baby Boom Hits a Rwanda Already Full
Alan Zarembo, Special to The Christian Science Monitor
KIGALI, RWANDA—Odette Uwamahoro says she is too old to start a new family.
So she is counting on the next generation to repopulate Rwanda,
decimated by the 1994 genocide of roughly 800,000 Tutsis, including
her husband and her eight children. "You know what happened in this country," says Ms.
Uwamahoro, waiting outside the crowded maternity ward at Kigali
Central Hospital to visit a friend and her new baby. "For young
people, it is part of your obligation as a Rwandan to have
children." Indeed, reproducing has become something of a national duty
- on both sides of Rwanda's Hutu-Tutsi ethnic divide. The maternity wards are so crowded that doctors have started
opening private delivery clinics. Up to 10 couples a weekend are
married in a single church, where elders urge the newlyweds to get
busy reproducing the next generation. One popular T-shirt is
emblazoned: "Let's Make Babies." "There is a feeling among the population to replace lost
people," says Claude Dusaidi, an adviser to the minister of
defense. Such baby booms are common after wars and are not a new
tactic in the struggle for power or survival: There was a worldwide
campaign among Jews to multiply after the Holocaust, and the
world's highest population growth is in Gaza, the site of years of
ethnic struggle by the Palestinians against the Israelis. But the problem with Rwanda's boom is that even after the
genocide, this Maryland-sized nation remains the mostly densely
populated country in mainland Africa. With most people dependent on
small farms, poverty and land shortages were severe before the
genocide. Some observers have blamed population density as an
underlying factor in the slaughter of the Tutsi minority by the
Hutu majority. "One of the causes of the political diseases in this
region, of the violence in this region, is of course population,"
says a Tutsi priest. "We had many people in a small space." Though the current Tutsi leaders have rejected the argument
that Rwanda is too small for all its people, they recognize the
dangers of out-of-control population growth. That leaves them with
a dilemma. "For most of the people, it doesn't make sense to talk
about family planning after genocide," says Maurice Bucago,
director of the National Population Office. "They expect us to tell
them to have babies." After the genocide, there was at least a 1-to-1 replacement
of those killed: About 1 million Tutsis, who fled in the '60s when
the Hutus came to power, and their children flooded the country.
And the Tutsi rebels who fought their way to power are leading the
baby boom by example: Nearly every Army officer has another child
on the way. But Tutsis have no monopoly on reproduction. Tens of
thousands of babies were strapped to the backs of the 1.2 million
Hutus forced home from Zaire and Tanzania last year after more than
two years in exile. Their camps had the highest growth rates in
Africa, at least partly because Hutu propaganda said they needed
more people to take back Rwanda from the Tutsis. Now that they are home, "population pressure is worse than
it was before," says Andre De Clercq, head of the United Nations
Population Fund in Rwanda. He estimates that the number of women
using contraception has dropped from more than 12 percent before
the genocide to less than 2 percent. Rwanda is thought to be back to its old population of about
7.2 million people. That was too many for former Hutu President
Juvnal Habyarimana, who argued that Rwanda was too crowded to
repatriate hundreds of thousands of Tutsi refugees. The population
office he created in 1981 was widely resented and unsuccessful: In
1991, the average family had seven children, and the population was
projected to reach 25 million by 2030. For now, officials are focused on making land more
productive. Most Rwandans live scattered on hillsides, and leaders
want to move them to villages to provide schools and hospitals, and
to open huge tracts for agriculture. The environmental impact of
the population boom can already be felt: Akagera National Park, a
wildlife refuge in the northwest, is being carved up to settle
hundreds of thousands of people.
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