Mireille Kanyange

I began my journalism career in July 2013 at Radio Isanganiro, which is now Radio-Television Isanganiro. In 2013, I came to Isanganiro as an intern, and I was then hired. I remember, during the test, there were five or six of us applying for the internship. We were given a text to read, we summarised it, and we read it aloud. There was a team listening in the control room. When I finished reading, I saw people on the other side of the glass partition nodding their heads as if to say “yes”. That's when I knew I had succeeded. And indeed, I was hired as an intern. Since that day, I have always worked at Isanganiro.

I didn't go to journalism school; I studied socio-economic management of businesses and organizations at the University of Lake Tanganyika. I finished my studies in 2006 and defended my thesis in June 2007. After university, I did various internships: a three-month internship at BANCOBU (Commercial Bank of Burundi), followed by a six-month auditing position at a private firm. In 2010, I had a one-year contract as a finance officer at a local HIV/AIDS organization, but I wasn't retained at the end of the contract. In 2011, I was still looking for work. My husband suggested I look for job openings at Le Renouveau, Iwacu, and at Intercontact Services, where agencies were posting job offers. So I took my file, which was always ready—my CV, which was a bit rubbish, a certified copy of my diploma, and my ID card; sometimes I made at least ten certified copies of my diploma so I'd have them ready at home!—and I went to Radio Isanganiro. I found people who were smiling. I wanted to meet the radio station director, but he was on leave. I then met a woman who now works at the Center for Conflict Alert and Prevention (CENAP); her name is Amandine Inamahoro. She was the head of programming, and she was the one acting as interim director. Today, I thank her! I told her what I was looking for, and she replied, “We're not currently looking for interns, but leave us your number; if any positions become available, I'll call you”. Two weeks later, she called me: “Mireille, we're looking for interns. Please complete your application, bring this and that, and drop everything off with the executive secretary”. I brought my application, took the test, and was ultimately accepted as an intern.

I should also mention that when I was in eighth grade, in secondary school, a French teacher told us one day, “Have fun making an advertisement for something of your choice”. Since I was doing a little research, I was intrigued by a Rolls-Royce; even the name, “Rolls-Royce”, was new to me. So I made an advertisement for it. I explained what kind of car it was, its features… My teacher was amazed: “That's fantastic! Where did you find all that information? How did you learn to do that?”. When he said that, I felt that… one day I might work in radio. In fact, I also listened to national radio, especially the second channel; I also had an uncle who worked there, and I wanted to be a little bit like him.

When I started my internship at Radio Isanganiro, I rediscovered my passion for journalism. At the radio station, I met other interns who had been there for over a year. We had a coach who taught us interview techniques. He taught us how to prepare our questions, how to hold the recorder when asking a question—you have to point it at yourself when you're speaking, and at the person being interviewed when they're speaking. When we were doing exercises and it was my turn, I would start with, “So, sir…”, but I would forget to point the microphone at myself. Everyone would laugh at me! Also, I had natural hair; there was a girl who had just completed a year as an intern at the radio station who later told me, “You know, when I saw your hair and heard how you spoke, I thought you were a nun!”. I told her that no, I was just speaking calmly! It's true that at first I was a little scared, let's say, of the people I saw, the ladies and gentlemen who were there… But anyway, after six months they extended my internship for another three months, then in March 2014 I got a freelance contract, then a 12-month fixed-term contract that was renewable. Then 2015 arrived. So, if you don't mind, let me tell you a little bit about 2015.

I live in the Nyakabiga neighbourhood, an area in the city center, in the Mukaza commune.* On April 26th, 2015, when the demonstrations began, they were on my route. From the University of Burundi, Mutanga Campus, the student protesters were coming down Avenue de la Jeunesse, which is a main road in front of my house. I could see them. So at the radio station, they told me, “Go cover it”. And I went. On April 26th, I was very close to the police, who had a whole array of shields for protection. And on May 13th, the day of the coup, I was in the newsroom. I remember, they assigned me to Place de la Révolution.** I didn't really know what was going to happen. But I didn't linger there. I first saw armoured vehicles with “RTNB” written on them, driven by soldiers. It was strange to me; it was the first time I had ever seen anything like it. I started to get a little scared, thinking, “My God, there are some things I haven't been told!”. And then, all of a sudden, I saw a lot of soldiers starting to surround Place de la Révolution. I was a little way down, between a basketball court and the CCIB FM+ radio station. From there, I could see a lot of soldiers coming, patrolling, and vehicles with “RTNB” written on them continuing to head towards the RTNB building. That's when I really panicked. Suddenly, a soldier—a commander, I don't know—said, “What are you doing here?”. He was addressing everyone who was there, civilians who were watching the scene, as astonished as I was. “What are you doing? Get out of here!”. That's when I felt that something bad was about to happen. In the meantime, I had listened to the 12:25 news in the national language by telephone. I was waiting to be called so I could report what I was seeing, to do the live broadcast. I waited and waited… until the 12:25 news broadcast ended. And on the radio, they had just announced the coup. Radio Isanganiro had announced it first. I started to panic: “My God, what’s happening?”. I even called the director to ask her why I had been sent when I hadn’t been called to do the live broadcast, as I had been told. She replied, “We’ve received a lot of information, you see, you might be able to do the live broadcast in French”. But I didn’t wait for the 12:55 French news broadcast, because as soon as the news in the local language ended, that soldier ordered us to leave the premises. At that moment, I started running; I ran and ran, all the way to the radio station.*** On the way, I ran into a friend who works at the BNDE (National Bank for Economic Development), with whom I had done my final year project. I asked her, “Did you hear that they just announced the coup on the radio?”. “No, I didn't hear it!”. And we ran, everyone was running in every direction. I arrived at the radio station and found colleagues who were starting to go home.

On May 14th, the next day, I returned to work; I didn't grasp the reach of the consequences of the coup announcement. There were three of us reporters, and one technician. The radio station director was somewhere in a hotel, as was the editor-in-chief; they had been afraid to go home and had stayed in a hotel. We were there. Suddenly, around 8:00 or 8:30, we heard that Radio-Télé Renaissance was on fire. When we heard that, the technician locked the room where the transmitter was located, and we left the building: “Come on, let's get out quickly, let's get out quickly!”. They had shot at Radio Renaissance, which was no longer broadcasting, then they moved on to Radio Bonesha, I think, and then they came to Isanganiro. Fortunately, when they arrived, we had already moved to a building next to the radio station. From there, we saw uniformed police officers searching left and right, climbing walls… They were going up the stairs of a building not far from us and looking in all directions as if they were looking for us, as if they had been informed that we were nearby. Then we heard them shooting inside the building. It's strange that before, there had been soldiers guarding the radio station, ever since the announcement of the coup the day before. I don't know what happened after that, but on May 14th, the soldiers were recalled. To get into the building, the police officers shot at the locks. They shot at the reception desk. Our building has two levels; they shot downstairs, then went up to the first floor, then the second floor, and shot in almost every office. They shot in the pre-recording studio, in the main studio, in the newsroom. They went to where the transmitter was, they shot at the doors, at the equipment, at the computers… everywhere. Around 10 or 11 a.m., the radio station went off the air. We were nearby; the station manager and the editor-in-chief were there too. We stayed there; around 3 p.m. we ate something—they had been shooting at Radio Isanganiro for hours, and we couldn't go out—and around 4 p.m., we went home. We left timidly along Avenue de l'Amitié. There were few people on Boulevard de l'Uprona.* We went home timidly, to neighbourhoods north of Bujumbura: some in Nyakabiga, others near Mutanga Nord… We arrived home and stayed there for a while.

A few months later, the acting director—the former head of the Finance and Administration department, since the director was no longer in Burundi—told us, “Those of you who still have contracts, come; we haven’t revoked Isanganiro’s operating license. We’ll gather information and post it on the website”. And that’s how we continued working after May 2015. We were a team of four or five people. Others had fled, going into exile in various countries, in Rwanda and elsewhere in Europe. Then, in 2016, the radio station director was made to sign a commitment stating that the station would not broadcast any more information inciting the population to revolt. And so, Isanganiro went back on the air. The journalists who had stayed in the country and had permanent contracts, as well as those who had fixed-term contracts like me, returned to the radio. We worked for two months without pay.

But above all, we worked in an atmosphere where, whenever we had to go into the field or even to Bujumbura, we were told: “You work for Radio Isanganiro, the radio station that announced the coup; you're coup plotters!”. We felt terrible, we felt terrible. Sometimes... we weren't prevented from working, but inside, we thought: “My God, if I reveal my identity, who I am, the media outlet I work for, maybe I'll be ignored, maybe I'll be harmed...”. We worked in this atmosphere, we survived, until the government spokesperson at the time, or even the Ministry of Communication or the National Communication Council (CNC), decided to tour the different provinces of the country to raise awareness, let's say, among the administrators about the importance of responding to journalists and giving them information. Because we had complained, in a way, that some administrators were denying us access to information, claiming that we, journalists from private media outlets, were coup plotters. We complained, and this campaign ensued; I call it a campaign because the CNC (National Communication Council) conducted extensive tours of all four regions of Burundi, from north to south, from east to west. Starting in 2018-2019, there was a slight improvement; some administrators began to understand us. We told them, “We're not here to harm you...”. We tried to convince these administrators and other key contacts of the importance of what we were doing; we explained that we were complementary, that we were working for the good and development of the nation; that both administrators and journalists contributed to the well-being of the population and the development of the country. Little by little, things took off, if I can put it that way. Then, the spokesperson for the Ministry of Security set up a WhatsApp group where spokespeople from all the institutions, media executives, editors-in-chief, and program directors could meet. If there was, for example, an invitation to a press conference, the information would be shared in this group. And then there were WhatsApp groups of journalists who took turns sharing messages. But frankly, what convinced some authorities, if I can put it that way, was the “never without the media” announcement made by the Burundian president at the end of January 2021. It was, in a way, a way of saying, “Please, share the information you have”. We sensed, in this “never without the media” slogan, a kind of revaluation of the journalism profession. So, even today, if I need to look for information somewhere and a contact is reluctant, I remind them: “Would you like me to remind you what the president said? Even the president himself knows it's important to give information to the person seeking it”. Sometimes they're convinced, and they're a little more willing to share that information. Things have changed, just a little.

During my time in Isanganiro, I worked as an editorial secretary for almost two years, between 2016 and 2018, and then as editor-in-chief from February 2020 to December 2022. Today, I am a radio journalist and reporter. Since May 2022, I have also been president of the Press House [=Maison de la Presse], although this is only a formal position. I have also travelled outside the country, which has been very eye-opening. In 2017, I spent five days in Paris exploring the French media landscape; it was a trip organized by the French Embassy in Burundi. In 2018, I went to Dar es Salaam for training on reporting on green cities, organized by the World Bank and AMI (African Media Initiative). In 2019, Radio Isanganiro sent me to Somalia to report on the operations of the Burundian military in the AMISOM (African Union Mission in Somalia). In 2022, as a member of the Association of Burundian Women Journalists (AFJO), I went to Bukavu to meet with Congolese women journalists; and in 2023, as president of the Press House, I spent two weeks in Beijing participating in a multicultural exchange between the All-China Journalists Association (ACJA) and journalists from various countries. Through all these trips, I discovered how other media outlets work around the world, and this has enriched me immensely.