My name is Jean Bizimana, and I am a documentary photographer and humanitarian focused on social issues around Africa.
I’ve spent the last couple of years exploring motherhood. I’ve met with so many women to understand their motivations and experiences. One woman told me that “being a mother is love, mercy, happiness, and passion.”
That really stuck with me because I have never felt this passion. I never knew the value of having parents because I grew up an orphan from the Rwandan genocide.
This made me deeply curious about the concept of motherhood. And after making work about other people’s stories, I am now turning to my own. I am starting this process by writing a letter to my parents. I am updating them for the last 27 years of my life. How I grew up and what I am doing today.
This letter is a place for me to put my burdens as an orphan. And while my parents aren’t able to actually read it, there are orphans around the world who can. I hope that by sharing my story and insecurities, I can offer them strength and courage.
Good morning! Or good afternoon!
My name is Jean Bizimana, and I am your son.
I think that our last meeting was in 1994 during the Genocide against the Tutsi. I understand it is not easy for you to recognize me without seeing me, but with this letter, I will send you my picture, so it can help you to remember that I am your son. I hope to receive your pictures, and maybe pictures of my relatives. I write this letter because I am feeling nostalgic and because I have questions which I need you to answer. I also want to explain to you who I am today and how I grew up after we separated.
I was too little when I lost you, maybe two or three years old. But then some good people brought me to Madam Carr orphanage, where I lived for 18 years. The owner of the orphanage loved me and she gave me whatever I asked her for. It is she who brought me to the organization T.T.E.C (Through the Eyes of Children) that taught me photography from the age of eight or nine until I was 19 years old. Photography is what brought me this far.
Roz found me a caretaker who's named Mukamurugo Immaculée, who worked at the orphanage. She loved me as I loved her, and her children were my friends, she died in 2008. I remember as a teenager I made many mistakes which saddened Roz, and I regret not apologizing to her directly before she passed away in 2006. Her death saddened all the children whose futures would be uncertain without her. The other leaders of the orphanage who took Roz’s place didn’t show us love and sympathy as she did.
The closing of the orphanage was a hard time for me as I didn’t have any family, not even a neighbor I knew who could come to take me from the orphanage. It was not easy for anyone to take in a young 20-year-old man. But there was a family who lived close to the orphanage, and we had known each other for eight years. We first met and became friends when I was taking pictures outside the orphanage. That day I got punished for leaving the orphanage without permission. But I visited them again and would go to their house every Saturday, which helped me get to know them better. Their children came to visit me at the orphanage too. I was one of the first five children who entered the orphanage, and I was one of the last five who left it!
I went to live with that family. My new life with them was not easy, but the mother had known me since 2005 when the orphanage was moved back from Gisenyi to its former location. She did a great thing by persuading her children, her husband, their relatives, and even their friends that adopting me was the right choice.
I learned many things in that family, like patience, tolerance, forgiveness, respect, and love.
All these observations showed me that I missed many things because I didn’t get a chance to live with my family.
I moved to Kigali in 2013 to continue my university studies. It has been 8 years that I live in Kigali now. It was difficult to find a house to live in at first, and the students with whom I lived at the orphanage would not agree to live with me. Therefore, I decided to go to my adoptive Uncle. I lived with him, and he found me a job.
In Kigali, I still talk regularly to my adoptive mother. She always sent me food for their less expensive at her place, she also helped me with kitchen materials. Once, she asked me if I have a girlfriend, and told me that they are ready to help me.
When I told them that I have a girlfriend, everybody was happy, and my sisters asked me to introduce them to each other so they can become her friend and help me get to know her better.
Today I am an independent photojournalist and photography instructor at T.T.E.C all over the world. We train orphans, children from foster homes, etc. I like my job because it is my way of paying back what the organization did for me when I was a young kid. I am also freelancing at Reuters News Agency
These were the stories of my life that I wanted to tell you. I am so sorry for not writing to you before, It has been a long time. I know, but it was not easy to make the decision to write this letter.
To my mother,
I want to tell you why I am writing this letter to you. I lived at an orphanage founded by a woman, where I was mostly surrounded by women, and it was them who were in charge of looking after us. Through the Eyes of the Children was created by women and they are the ones who taught me photography, and photography made me who I am today.
It was a woman who came to the orphanage to adopt me. Her tender care which resembled a mother’s love prompted me to think of you.
I have some questions for you too:
WHAT IS THE DATE OF MY BIRTH? I say that I was born in 1992 based on the information given to the orphanage. When I arrived there,
WHAT ARE MY NAMES? In Rwandan culture, a child is given a name by his parents.
Sometimes the parents do not agree on the name, now my name is Jean Bizimana and it is me who chose it. I preferred Bizimana (meaning: God knows my life). I got “Jean” when I was in 6th grade. I gave my friends and classmates a list of over 15 Christian names and asked them to select one for me, and they selected Jean.
WHERE ARE WE FROM? Living without knowing where you are from causes great sadness. Wherever you arrive, you are asked to introduce yourself. I tell people that I am from the location of the orphanage because that is where I grew up. But it still annoys me that I do not know where I was born. It will be nice if you tell me about that place.
MY FATHERS’ NAMES AND YOURS: I say that my father’s name is Gasi Jean
Damascene. I chose this name because it is the name of my adoptive father. My adoptive mother’s name is Mukashema Angelique. Not knowing my origin and my parents’ names gave hard time with the International Committee of the Red Cross when they looked for my family.
MY PROBLEMS BECAUSE I DIDN’T LIVE WITH YOU, MOM:
Thinking about my life without my parents, I decided to do some research about the problems caused by parental loss and absence. I have found that a mother’s role is unparalleled and that nothing can replace her. By knowing their importance, we can understand our problems caused by lacking a mother’s love. I know that this letter might not reach you, but I wanted to tell you about my life 27 years after our separation. I wanted you to know how I grew up and became who I am today, and I would like to express my feeling via this letter, hoping that my heart will find peace, so I can help other people, mainly the children who didn’t get a chance to live with their parents because of different reasons.