For months, the Mothers' Guild at my school had been planning an event to welcome back a very special visitor. On Monday, April 23rd, those plans culminated in the S. Virginia Crowley Theater with the Evening With Immaculée Illibagiza. Immaculée, an author and survivor of 1994's Rwandan Holocaust, shared her story of forgiveness with students, parents and alumae, and I take pride in being able to say that I was her unofficial assistant that night, and when, in the midst of last-minute preparations and ticket sales, my mom asked me to come with her to welcome  Immaculée into the school.
It began at 6:30 that night, when I opened the General Office doors for her as she first came to the school. As she approached the entrance, flanked by her personal assistant Cathy on one side and my mother on the other, I was struck by the unbridled joy that radiated from this woman. "...and this is my daughter, Claudia," I heard Mom say, and extended my hand, but Immaculée would have none of it. Smiling brightly, she gave me a hug and followed me into the lobby, where I explained that her supper was in the faculty room and the chapel was prepared if she wanted to pray before her presentation.
"Claudia, why don't you take her upstairs?" Mom asked. I nodded, escorting Immaculée up the Down staircase to the faculty room and pointing out the posters made by Ms. Mariano's graphic design classes. Upon entering the faculty room, Immaculée asked me to stay with her while she ate, but I had to leave and say the rosary in the auditorium, along with three other girls. After saying my decade, I looked to the balcony, and noticed that our guest was praying along with us. A friend and I went upstairs to join her, and shortly afterward her own mother gave a brief introduction of what Immaculée had experienced.
Born in Rwanda in 1972, Immaculée was born into a Catholic family that was part of a tribe called the Tutsis. The Tutsis were almost always in conflict with another tribe, the Hutus, which made up the most of the ruling class. In 1994, the president of Rwanda, a member of the latter tribe, died when his plane was shot down. The Hutu government blamed the Tutsis for the tragedy, and began broadcasting orders to "exterminate the cockroaches." Within hours, the slaughter of thousands of Tutsis commenced. Immaculée herself was home from school for Easter, and was urged by her father to go into hiding. She did so, finding refuge in the home of a Hutu pastor who was hiding Tutsi women. For three months, Immaculée stayed in his 3-by-4-foot bathroom with seven other women, living in constant fear of being discovered. After the 90 days, Immaculée emerged from the bathroom and sought her family, only to learn that her mother, father and two brothers had been killed by Hutus. She later emigrated to the United States and began working for the United Nations.
From here, a video was shown that chronicled Immaculée's journey and what she had done since then. While the newsreel played, Immaculée beckoned me over, and gave me her purse. "Keep it until I am done," she told me. I accepted it, clutching the purse with two hands. As the lights came up, my friend and I accompanied her down the aisle, finding our own seats afterward. Immaculée took the stage and presented us with what she had learned while in hiding. Having gone into the bathroom with only a Bible, an English dictionary and a set of rosary beads her father had given her, Immaculée learned English and "escaped" from her situation through reciting the rosary several times each day, and carefully thought over each prayer. Upon getting out and learning of her family's deaths, the immense faith that she gained over the 90 days helped her to forgive those who had killed them. 
At the end of her presentation, Immaculée gave a special set of rosary beads to our president before departing to the cafeteria to take pictures and autograph copies of her book "Left to Tell." I got to sit next to her the entire time, and it was here that my favorite part of the night occurred. A family of three, a father, mother and a young daughter, excitedly approached the autograph table, and the father explained that he and his wife had read the book while she was pregnant, and named their daughter after its author. Immaculée had tears in her eyes as she met her namesake, and several onlookers shared a collective smile. 
Around 10:30, the last of the signatures were scribbled and the last photographs were taken. As Mom and I walked Immaculée to her taxi, she thanked us for the evening, mentioning what a wonderful school we were a part of. "And you!" she said, wrapping me into another hug. "You are a very lovely and bright young woman. I can see that you will be very important one day." This statement brought tears to my mother's eyes as she waved goodbye to our visitor, and I took in the words as the taxi drove away. my mother and I shared a knowing glance.