As refugees, they slept on the ground. Three kids, study and work is ‘nothing’

Social welfare worker Delphine Uwamwezi Yandamutso, 39, met her husband, chair and founder of the African Australian Advocacy Centre, Noël Yandamutso Zihabamwe, 40, when they were teenagers in Rwanda.

Noël Yandamutso Zihabamwe and Delphine Uwamwezi Yandamutso. “We tag-teamed: working, studying, the kids – sometimes even sleeping!” says Yandamutso, of how they juggled their busy lives in Australia.Credit: Louie Douvis

Delphine: We both grew up in traditional Catholic families. Noël lost his parents in the genocide [in 1994] and grew up in an orphanage, but he had the ability to connect with everyone – old people, young people, everyone. He was friends with my cousin, and they came to our house one day. I was very shy: I think I stayed in the kitchen the whole time. Later, we started meeting occasionally, mostly through church. My mum loved him: she was always cooking him some special dish. He made me feel like I could drop my guard. I was nine when the genocide happened, and many people don’t speak about it. But with him, I was able to say everything: we knew each other’s stories.

Getting together was a slow process. We were very young and, in our families, you don’t have romance until you’re nearly married. But we connected on a deep level. We both left home to go to uni: we emailed from cyber cafes. He was doing law. And because he was bright and good at school and charismatic, the government scouted him and said, “Join our party.” In Rwanda, there’s one ruling party, and all the little parties mean nothing. You either join it, or you’re nowhere. He refused to join.

Because of that, he began to be harassed and threatened: he had no choice but to flee. The whole thing was a total shock to me. But I was committed to Noël, so I had to deal with it. He had no friends or contacts in Australia; all he knew was that there were sheep!

‘He believed we would be successful, even though we had nothing. He was always saying, “We can do it.” ’

Delphine Uwamwezi Yandamutso

Noël arrived here in April 2006; I arrived on December 7, 2007, and we got married here. We’d never lived together, so we learnt a lot about each other. As an orphan, he had a lot of coping skills: he’s adaptable, he can figure out anything. He knew how to cook, clean – he taught me things! He believed we would be successful, even though we had nothing. He was always saying, “We can do it.”

If he had said, “Oh, it’s too hard,” I would have been the same. But he carried me with him. I did my TAFE diploma, then my bachelor’s, then my master’s. I always worked full-time, and by the time I was doing my last exam, I was pregnant with our third child. Noël was also studying and working: he did his master’s in policy and social research. We tag-teamed: working, studying, the kids – sometimes even sleeping!

In 2019, because of his continued resistance to Rwanda’s government, his two brothers were abducted; we believe they were killed by the regime. But Noël still has incredible resilience and hope – he hopes he can stop such things happening to others. Sometimes his time is not his own: people we don’t even know, people we’ve never spoken to, come to him for help. You might want to have a break, or do it part-time, but you cannot.

Within our own family, he loves it when there has been an achievement: we celebrate every little win. He will make an announcement at dinner, or we’ll dance, or have a drink, or tell friends – all those little big things. When I look around, I feel lucky: we’ve always supported each other. Neither one of us wants to advance and leave the other behind.

High school sweethearts Noel Yandamutso Zihabamwe and Delphine Uwamwezi Yandamutso in Kenya, 2004.Credit: Courtesy of Noël Yandamutso Zihabamwe

Noël: The first knowledge I had of my wife was that she was a churchgoer. Usually, when we’re young, we like to sleep in. But I saw her at church many times, which signified her commitment. And, of course, I was also there – so that was a little connection. And it made church even more interesting!

Even then, she was a focused person, serious. Part of that was the impact of genocide and war. I can’t say whether we’d have had a relationship if we hadn’t both been through that trauma, but we did understand each other. I think the first cure is yourself. Being happy and involved with people is a medication you can give yourself.

‘I was surprised by her confidence; especially coming from a patriarchal society. But we were equal.’

Noël Yandamutso Zihabamwe

It was hard when we went to university: three years only seeing each other in little pieces. But when I put those pieces together, I could see it was right. In my third year, after I’d been asked to join the ruling political party several times and refused, I had to flee to Kenya. I used to call her from a phone on the street, putting in all the coins. I always told her exactly what was going on, so she could make decisions based on the truth. I was worried; I didn’t want her to think I was a bad person. She knew I was in trouble with the regime: that would have been enough reason to stop the relationship. But communicating with her was very reassuring for me: I knew she trusted me. And she also came to see me in Kenya. That was unusual for a girl her age: it was a very tangible sign of how important our relationship was to her. I could see that love was there.

We chose Australia because we had seen the Olympics in Sydney – the beautiful blue water, the sunshine! I applied for her to come as soon as I arrived. It was a special reunion. She had changed: if you are away from a person you love, just for one day, it’s enough to feel that something has changed. And for us, it was years! I was surprised by her confidence; especially coming from a patriarchal society. But we were equal.

Sometimes people say, “How did you study, and work full-time, and have three kids?” But to us, compared to being refugees and having only the ground as your bed, it was nothing! Honestly, it was easy.

In difficult situations, she digests things. She listens to music, she goes for a walk, she sleeps. I tell her: “Remember, we’re in this together.” She thinks I do too much voluntary work. It’s good feedback, but I want her to understand that it’s important. And nobody can be perfect!

Last week we were working from home, so we went for a walk at lunchtime. And suddenly she said, “I’m so proud of us. We have a lovely family, good kids, a house, good jobs. Give me a hug!” Right there on the street!

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