Chief Nturo: The forgotten forerunner of ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’

Long before Rwanda’s ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’ program was officially launched in 2013 to promote national unity and identity, one man had already lived—and suffered—for its founding principle nearly seven decades earlier. His name was Chief Paul Nturo of Nyirimigabo, a traditional leader whose refusal to accept ethnic labeling under colonial rule made him a pioneer in the struggle for a unified Rwandan identity.

When Belgian colonial authorities, under the influence of Catholic Church figures like Bishop Léon Classe, moved to introduce ethnic identity cards distinguishing Tutsi, Hutu, and Twa, Chief Nturo stood firmly against the initiative. Nturo, who governed the Kabagari Chiefdom, declared that such a move would sow dangerous divisions among a people who, in his words, “have always been one.”

His resistance was not just symbolic. Nturo actively blocked the census meant to categorize Rwandans by ethnicity in his jurisdiction of Mukingo. The Belgian administration, fearing the ripple effect of his defiance among other chiefs, arrested Nturo and imprisoned him in Rwanda’s first penitentiary—the 1930 Prison in Kigali.

For refusing to participate in the colonial project of ethnic segmentation, Nturo became—unknowingly—the earliest embodiment of “Ndi Umunyarwanda,” a principle grounded in the belief that national identity transcends ethnic labels.

Chief Nturo came from the noble Abanana clan, descended from Gihana, a legendary warrior who once sacrificed himself to protect the Rwandan Kingdom during its conflict with Burundi under King Cyilima II Rujugira. Nturo himself was no stranger to battle—he had fought as part of King Kigeli IV Rwabugiri’s elite battalion, Ingangurarugo, during the German invasion.

Despite his imprisonment, Nturo returned to lead Kabagari until his death in 1943. By then, the ethnic classification campaign had already reshaped Rwanda’s social landscape. His warning had gone unheeded—but history would prove him right.

Nturo’s legacy lived on through his children, many of whom also became chiefs. Among them was Chief Frédéric Butera, who would gain renown not for governance, but for cultural excellence. A legendary intore (traditional warrior dancer), Butera’s artistry was immortalized in 1948 when Belgian authorities featured his image on the 10 Congolese Franc banknote. This made him the only person to ever appear on currency used in Rwanda, Burundi, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Butera also starred in the film King Solomon’s Mines, playing a royal intore, further cementing the family’s deep roots in Rwanda’s cultural and historical tapestry.

Today, the Government of Rwanda continues to champion the ideals of unity and reconciliation through the ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’ initiative. But as society evolves, so too must the methods for sustaining this vision.

Imagine if ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’ were not just a program, but a foundational part of Rwanda’s education system—embedded in primary, secondary, and university curricula. What if Rwandan embassies around the world created monthly forums for diaspora youth to connect with the values and stories from home?

Institutions like the Rwanda Education Board (REB) could lead the charge by producing learning materials tailored for different age groups and sectors of society. Meanwhile, every Rwandan—whether at home or abroad—could commit to bringing at least one “lost soul” back into the family of unity and shared identity each year.

Such collective action would not only breathe new life into Chief Nturo’s dream but also amplify the legacy of ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’ as more than a program—turning it into a living, evolving movement.

Chief Nturo may have died decades before the formalization of ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’, but his vision remains a guiding light. His resistance against the divisive colonial agenda, his belief in a united people, and his ultimate sacrifice mark him as one of Rwanda’s unsung heroes.

As Rwanda looks to the future, perhaps it is time to bring Nturo’s story into the national spotlight—not just as a historical anecdote, but as an enduring source of inspiration. For in remembering Nturo, we remember who we are: not divided by ethnicity, but united in identity.

Ndi Umunyarwanda is not just a slogan. It is a call to action.