Rwanda Receives 7 US Deportees as Cash‑Grant Deal Could Reach 250

Kigali, 1 September 2025 – On a humid August evening in Kigali, seven exhausted passengers stepped off an unmarked plane. They were the first migrants deported from the United States under a controversial agreement that could see up to 250 people sent to Rwanda. To the Rwandan government, these arrivals are proof that it is “ready to take them,” with promises of job training and healthcare. Yet behind the official reassurances lie human lives upended by policies hammered out thousands of miles away.

“We want to go home – or build new lives”

According to government spokesperson Yolande Makolo, of the seven deportees who quietly arrived in mid-August, three immediately requested to return to their home countries. At the same time, four said they would try to build lives in Rwanda, Makolo insisted that all seven had been vetted and would receive “training, healthcare, and accommodation support to jump‑start their lives.” For now, they are housed by an international organisation, with visits from local social services and the International Organization for Migration.

Those assurances are cold comfort to people whose identities have been kept secret. The deportees are not Rwandan and have no connection to the country. They are essentially stranded, dependent on a government that treats them like a foreign policy asset.

A secretive bargain – with cash attached

The Rwandan government has been vague about the deal’s terms, saying only that it signed an agreement with the Trump administration in June 2025. However, reporting by Radio France Internationale reveals that the pact includes a US cash grant. An unnamed Rwandan official told Reuters that Washington sent a list of ten people to vet and that the grant letter was signed in July. Makolo framed the agreement as an altruistic gesture, saying, “nearly every Rwandan family has experienced the hardships of displacement.”

Not everyone is buying that narrative. Phil Clark, a Rwanda expert at SOAS University, notes that the US originally dangled the deportation scheme as leverage over Rwanda’s role in peace talks with the Democratic Republic of Congo, but the cash reveals a more transactional motive. “Now it shows that Rwanda will also profit financially from this scheme,” he told RFI. Rwanda has already pocketed hundreds of thousands of pounds from Britain’s now‑scrapped asylum deal, and Clark says this arrangement cements a disturbing trend: richer nations paying African states to offload migrants.

A Rwandan activist who asked to remain anonymous put it bluntly: “The deal comes down to money and political influence. Accepting these deportees also gives Rwanda an advantage in the ongoing peace negotiations regarding the conflict in DRC”

“The whole scheme stinks.”

Rwanda is not alone. Uganda, Eswatini, and South Sudan have also agreed to take US deportees, often under opaque conditions. In Uganda, the lack of parliamentary approval has angered many. Opposition lawmaker Ibrahim Ssemujju joked bitterly that President Museveni “will be asking, ‘When are you bringing them?’”. Mathias Mpuuga, former leader of Uganda’s opposition, decried the arrangement outright: “The whole scheme stinks”. Other Ugandans noted that the country already struggles to host refugees fleeing neighbouring conflicts.

The human cost of these deals is already evident. In Eswatini, five deportees were placed in solitary confinement upon arrival. A lawyer representing them said he was denied access to his clients, prompting rights groups to file a court challenge. Immigration advocates warn that “third‑country deportations are unnecessarily cruel” because they dump people into societies where they may not speak the language or understand the culture. Some deportees have no criminal record; others have already completed sentences, yet find themselves incarcerated again

Why activists worry about Rwanda

Rwanda presents itself as a stable, fast‑growing country, but human rights organisations paint a different picture. Human Rights Watch’s 2025 report describes the July 2024 presidential election, which Paul Kagame won with 99.15 % of the vote, as taking place against a “backdrop of repression.” The report notes ongoing ill‑treatment of detainees and a crackdown on civil society, including the closure of thousands of churches and restrictions on opposition parties. The UN refugee agency has warned that migrants deported to Rwanda risk being forced back to the countries they fled

Given this context, rights experts say sending vulnerable people to Rwanda could violate international law. They argue that outsourcing deportations allows Western governments to sidestep their responsibilities and shield abuses from public scrutiny.

Beyond statistics: people caught in geopolitics

The Kigali arrivals are not numbers in a report; they are people used as bargaining chips. Behind the US cash and Kigali’s polished language, each deportee is a person torn from family and community. Some may have fled violence; others might be long‑term residents of the US; none asked to end up in Rwanda.

Trump’s administration says third‑country deportations are necessary when home countries refuse to take back their nationals. Supporters argue that the policy enhances public safety. Critics point to abuses: the same Trump policy sent hundreds of Venezuelans to a notorious prison in El Salvador, and human smugglers like Kilmar Ábrego García have been wrongly deported, beaten, and tortured

A Pan‑African challenge

Rwanda’s willingness to host deportees may make diplomatic sense for Kagame, but many Africans see it as a betrayal. The activist from Kigali warns that Rwanda is trading dignity for money. Ugandan politicians and activists echo the sentiment, asking why their nations should solve America’s immigration issues. Even in Eswatini and South Sudan, where ruling elites benefit from US patronage, local lawyers and rights groups are fighting back

At its core, the policy treats Africa as a dumping ground for unwanted migrants, reinforcing neocolonial patterns. If Pan‑Africanism still has meaning, it lies in challenging this injustice: refusing to allow African soil to be used as a holding pen for migrants deemed undesirable by Western governments, and demanding migration policies that respect human dignity.