On April 6, 1994, unidentified attackers shot down a plane carrying Rwandan President Juvenal Habyarimana as it was about to land at Kigali airport. President Habyarimana, his Burundian counterpart and eight other passengers died in the crash. The next day organized killings began. Massacres continued over the course of three months, and nearly 1 million Rwandans lost their lives.

After the assassination of the president, Hutu extremists attacked the Tutsi minority and Hutus who stood in their way. The murderers were well-prepared, and targeted human rights activists, journalists and politicians. One of the first victims on April 7 was Prime Minister Agathe Uwiringiymana.

While thousands of Rwandans were being killed every day, Belgian and French special forces evacuated about 3,500 foreigners. On April 13, Belgian paratroopers rescued seven German employees and their families from Deutsche Welle's relay transmitting station in Kigali. Only 80 of 120 local staff members survived the genocide.

As early as January 1994, UNAMIR commander Romeo Dallaire wanted to act on information he had received about an "anti-Tutsi extermination" plot. The warning he sent to the UN on January 11, later known as the "genocide fax," went unheard. And his desperate appeals after the genocide began were rejected by Kofi Annan, who was Under-Secretary-General for Peacekeeping Operations at the time.

The Mille Collines radio station (RTLM) and Kangura, a weekly magazine, stoked ethnic hatred. In 1990, Kangura published the racist "Hutu Ten Commandments." Mille Collines radio, which was known for its pop music and sports programs, fueled the genocide by urging Hutu civilians to hunt down and kill Tutsis. Director Milo Rau devoted his film "Hate Radio" to these appalling broadcasts (photo).

In Kigali, Paul Rusesabagina hid more than 1,000 people in the Hotel Des Mille Collines. Rusesabagina had taken over the position of the hotel's Belgian manager, who left the country. With a great deal of alcohol and money, he managed to prevent Hutu militias from killing the refugees. In many other places where people sought refuge, they were not able to escape the slaughter.

Churches were no longer sanctuaries. About 4,000 men, women and children were murdered with axes, knives and machetes in the church of Ntarama near Kigali. Today, the church is one of the country's many genocide memorials. Rows of skulls, human bones as well as bullet marks in the walls are a reminder of what happened there.

The French government maintained close ties to the Hutu regime. When the French army intervened in June, it enabled soldiers and militiamen responsible for the genocide to flee to Zaire, now the Democratic Republic of Congo, and even take their weapons with them. They still pose a threat to Rwanda today.

During the genocide, millions of Rwandan Tutsis and Hutus fled to Tanzania, Zaire and Uganda. Some 2 million of them went to Zaire alone. These included former members of the army and perpetrators of the genocide, who soon founded the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR), a militia that is still terrorizing the population in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo today.

On July 4, 1994, rebels from the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) patrolled the area around the Church of the Holy Family in Kigali. By that time, they had liberated most of the country and routed the perpetrators of the genocide. However, human rights activists also accused the rebels of committing crimes, for which no one has been held accountable to this day.

On July 18, 1994, the RPF's leader, Major General Paul Kagame, declared that the war against the government troops was over. The rebels were in control of the capital and other important towns. Initially, they installed a provisional government. Paul Kagame became Rwanda's president in the year 2000.

The genocide went on for almost three months. The victims were often slaughtered with machetes. Neighbors killed neighbors. Not even babies and elderly people were spared, and the streets were strewn with corpses and body parts. It's not only the physical scars on the bodies of the survivors that remind Rwandans of the genocide. A deep trauma also remains.

In the British Netflix series, Kate digs into the turmoil of her past. She wants to put those responsible for the genocide in her home country behind bars, but that puts her in grave danger. It's a dramatic reappraisal of the genocide — and its aftermath to this day, accompanied by Leonard Cohen's "You want it darker" as the soundtrack.

Paul Rusesabagina ran the Hotel des Mille Collines in Kigali in 1994. During the genocide, he protected more than 1,200 people from certain death. In 2004, the story was turned into the film "Hotel Rwanda." The disturbing drama was not only nominated for three Oscars, but also reminded the general public of the atrocities of the genocide.

Romeo Dallaire (photo) was commander of the UN mission in Rwanda before and during the genocide. In his book "Shake Hands with the Devil," he lays blame on the international community for the catastrophe of 1994. The Canadian had said that intervention was vital in order to stop the murder, but his cries for help and those of the Rwandans went unheeded. His book was turned into a film in 2007.

Radio was used by the genocidaires, who perpetrated the genocide in Rwanda, as a propaganda tool to spread their hate messages throughout the country. The RTLM broadcaster called Tutsi and moderate Hutu "cockroaches." In his play "Hate Radio," the Swiss theater director Milo Rau stages a frighteningly authentic day in the studio of the infamous station.

The church is also partly to blame for the genocide in Rwanda. This dramatic, formal sentence from a Tutsi pastor's letter to a church superior collaborating with the genocidaires was chosen by US journalist Phillip Gourevitch as the title of his book. In Rwanda, he collected reports from survivors. Through them, he tried to understand the psychological aftermath of the genocide.

The film "Shooting Dogs" shows how quickly a supposedly healthy world became hell on earth. In a school in Kigali, hundreds of people seek shelter from the murderous militias waiting outside the gates. They initially believe that the UN blue helmets can protect them, but then the evacuations of Americans and Europeans begin. The Rwandans are left behind — and the killing starts.

For 91 days, Immaculee Ilibagiza hid in the bathroom of a pastor's house. Machete-wielding men had been looking for her and the seven other women who had taken refuge in the small room. When they were finally able to leave, she discovered that almost her entire family had been murdered. She believes that it was her faith that saved her, and has written about the genocide and its lasting effects.

Even 25 years after the genocide, Rwandans remain inextricably linked to the darkest chapter in their history. But many Rwandans also want to look to the future — including rapper Eric1key and the "Rwandan Records" project. Their goal is to show how the victim mentality may be overcome by promoting the perspective of self-confident people. They've had shows in Berlin and Rwanda.

Twenty-three years after the atrocities of the Rwandan genocide, the country is still suffering from the scars of its past. Many Rwandans have fled to Europe to settle down in a peaceful environment. Portrayed namelessly here by Finnish photographer Miia Autio, some of them hesitated to disclose their new home, and others even preferred not to show their face.

The genocide went on for a period of 100 days only in 1994, but the horrors that preceded it did not stop afterwards either. "Almost all my family was killed in 1997, years after the end of the war," revealed the man portrayed above. "I fought against the government, first as a citizen and later as a politician. But they were chasing and torturing me, and I had to leave my country," he added.

"Only bad news come from Rwanda," lamented this woman, who arrived in Norway in 2005. She survived the massacres of 1994, but was later blackmailed when she decided to testify for her neighbor who had been unjustly accused of taking part in the genocide. "That's why I fled the country; I thought I would lose my life. Today, I am a Norwegian citizen, but it doesn't help me. I am Rwandan."

"My mother died in prison, and my father was incarcerated, although he hadn't been in the country during the war," said this woman. She ran from Rwanda to Kenya, and later to Cameroon with her two little sisters. Eventually, she came to Belgium. "I was accepted here. I found my place in Belgium and even started a family here. But I miss Rwanda, and I still feel more Rwandan," she added.

The reasons why people continue to flee from Rwanda are evident, but it doesn't make them easy to talk about. "It is too hard for me," admitted this man, who wants to return to Rwanda one day. "I wish freedom, justice, and real democracy for my home country. I wish the people there were able to express their opinions freely. I wish we all felt safe and in peace in our nation."

Rwandans used to describe their country as a "paradise," and for the woman pictured above, it was tough to leave it. In addition to her experience, she now has to face degrading prejudices. "Once, during a job interview, they asked me to turn on the computer to make sure I knew how to do it!" she said. "I wish Rwanda some day becomes the paradise it used to be, and I'll be able to go home."

The genocide led by the Hutu population against the Tutsi people resonates strongly in the Rwandan society. The man in this picture claimed the government discriminated against Hutus after the war. "My life here in Europe is a new start. It is often challenging, but I like that the government here supports everyone, including foreigners. Here I have hope for life and the future," he added.

"I don't only feel foreign in Germany, I am foreign, but I feel at home here," said this man, who lives and studies in Hannover. Despite many frustrations in his new environment and racist experiences, he doesn't want to return to Rwanda: "I am a person who wants to express his point of view. If I criticized the government, it would be bad for me. I have settled down in Germany, and I feel free."