Francine Murengezi Ingabire, a happy 12-year-old, was hacked to pieces with a machete in Rwanda during the 1994 genocide. Her story is told at the genocide memorial in Kigali. The building is a carefully constructed contradiction. Its subject is tragedy, yet its design — sharp lines, stalwart gables — suggests hope. That contradiction is, it seems, intentional and perfectly encapsulates today’s Rwanda, perhaps the most successful and optimistic nation in Africa.

Rwanda seeks admiration, not pity. And rightfully: The people should be seen as an example of the resilience of the human spirit, not of the despair that too often defines Africa. But how does a nation come to terms with genocide? The answer lies within that memorial in Kigali. The exhibits construct a narrative that facilitates closure. This narrative maintains that there is only one native Rwandan people who share a common language and culture. Hutu and Tutsi are not ethnic divisions, but social classes.

Rwandans have convinced themselves that they were once a harmonious people and can be so again. The narrative of the genocide evades certain painful details, but what matters is that Rwanda now believes itself to be the greatest country in Africa. Instead of being dragged down by despair, people walk on the balls of their feet. After the genocide, the constitution was rewritten. Today, there is a striking amount of trust among Rwandans in government.

One prominent component of reform is the share of authority given to women. At present, women constitute 47% of the legislature — the highest proportion of any country in the world. When I asked an Army colonel how he had adjusted to surrendering such a large share of power to women, he replied: “What’s the problem? Rwanda has always been a matriarchal society. We’ve just given legal recognition to that fact.”

Huge strides have already been made toward Rwanda’s goal of becoming a model for the rest of Africa. Kigali, for instance, is the safest capital city on the continent. The safety and immense beauty of the country make it the perfect destination for tourists keen to try Africa. The government also hopes that stability will attract foreign investment. More important, it wants to export the harmony and solidity that currently characterises Rwanda to the rest of Africa.

As I waited to board my plane at Kigali airport, my friend the colonel told me: “When I was young, I foolishly thought that the world would never see genocide again. But then I had to experience it at first hand. Now all I’m certain of is that Rwanda will never see genocide again.” Granted, it is easy to get carried away by Rwandan optimism. Under the surface, demons may still lurk. But, at the same time, cynicism seems churlish in a country so intent upon hope.

Rwanda provides stark contrast to the images usually emerging from Africa: instead of defeatism, there is dynamism; instead of pity, there is pride. If there is a bright future for Africa, it lies in the direction Rwanda points. — The Christian Science Monitor