He is a king without a throne, a potentate without power or portfolio.
But King Kigeli Ndahindurwa, (pronounced ki-GAY-lee da-HEN-dur-wah), whose family came to power in the 14th century, is a man with a mission: to see peace restored to his bloodsoaked homeland. The United Nations estimates that 500,000 have been massacred and 1.7 million left homeless in five weeks of turmoil in the densely populated east African nation.
"This is the worst things have ever been, without question," says the man who ruled Rwanda from 1959 to 1961, clicking his tongue in disgust. "The slaughter of civilians, especially the children, is very bad. It's sad. Sad."
Kigeli V is the impoverished relic of a Tutsi dynasty whose survivors have been scattered with little hope of a return to power. Kigeli insists that his role as a national leader supersedes any tribal allegiance and holds himself aloof from the Hutu-Tutsi conflict that rends Rwanda.
Kigeli's minority Tutsi tribe moved into the region in the 1300s, dominating the indigenous Hutu. Rwanda and neighboring Burundi were under German or Belgian control from the 1890s until the early 1960s. The Hutu revolted in 1959. Rwanda and Burundi gained independence in 1962 after Rwandans opted in a referendum to abolish the monarchy. As for Kigeli: Belgian authorities refused to allow him to return after he left to attend a U.N. meeting in Zaire.
A military coup in 1973 led to the installation of a Hutu-led civilian government. A 1991 constitution was supposed to end the Hutu-dominated single-party system.
Rwanda's latest bloodbath began April 6 when the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi were killed in an unexplained plane crash. The death of President Juvenal Habyarimana triggered what Rwandan leaders characterized as a "popular uprising" against the Tutsi minority. But others, including Kigeli, don't accept that.
After 33 years in exile - the 7-foot-2-inch former king lived in Tanzania, Uganda and Kenya before moving to the USA two years ago - Kigeli still finds himself relegated to the political sidelines. He lives in Takoma Park, Md., near Washington, ignored by Rwanda's embassy, which considers him an enemy.
He subsists on government aid and donations from friends, studies English (he speaks five languages), works on raising money for the relief effort and talks to anyone who will listen to his plea for peace. "I think about my homeland every day," says Kigeli, 57. "Today, the image (of Rwanda) is bad, but it is a beautiful country."
Kigeli traces his nation's slide into anarchy to the government's failure to implement a 1993 peace agreement that called for an ethnically integrated government.
The widow of his late brother King Mutara III Rudahigwa, whom he succeeded on the throne, was one of those killed in the conflict.
The contrast between the former king's current and former life couldn't be more stark.
He lives, instead of in a palace, in a spartan apartment where he watches news reports and prepares official dispatches urging the international community to protect human rights.
His only attendant is former schoolmate Boniface Benzinge, who has been with him in exile for 17 years as secretary and adviser.
A rare remaining symbol of his monarchy is a gold pinkie ring that bears the crest of the crown: a drum with a bird and lion on each side. As is the custom in his country, he has not married. "Marriage is a sign of happiness and the king cannot marry while he is in exile," Benzinge explains. Kigeli says he would like to see Rwanda embrace democracy, repatriate all refugees and establish a multiethnic governing body.
"I am hoping to go back, but I have no desire to impose myself on the people. I would like to return as a citizen. I have that right."
As he leaves an interview, Kigeli gets a poignant reminder of his status. He is approached by a parking attendant, another African who recognizes him and wants to offer help. "I am Eritrean," the man says, "but you are my king. If there is anything I can do, please call on me."
