Nyamata Memorial Visits

Yesterday we traveled to the southern part of the country, no less than 30Km from the Burundi boarder. Our group of 17 packed into one mutato (taxi bus) and ventured for our first time outside of Kigali. Once we left the city limits the newly paved road took us meandering through the hills lined with banana groves. Mud huts dotted the hills and every once in a while we would see small villages under construction. These villages are part of a governmental mandate as they believe it is safer for the people to consolidate into villages as they would be more vulnerable living isolated and scattered throughout the country side. Much attention has been paid to the southern region of Rwanda. Historically, Tutsi’s were forced to relocate in the south because it was thought to be less inhabitable and the Hutus were establishing their power center in the north. When the genocide broke out, the Interhamway moved down into the south and attacked the Tutsi’s in mass. We visited two churches that were horrific genocide sites. The memorials were kept almost exactly as they had been left in April of ’94; windows remained shattered, blood stains were unwashed, doors hung on their hinges, bars that had been pried apart by the perpetrators were still bent, and holes dug by the victims in desperation were left unfilled. Personal items such as toot brushes, shoes, jewelry, cloths, and identity cards were laid out for display. The skeletons were arranged by body type and lined on shelves. The first church was the site of 5,000 deaths, the second 10,000. There is no way to describe the scene or the emotions one feel when faced with such horror. As I stared into the hollow eyes of the skeletons I felt a commitment to upholding the resolution of never again.

Juxtaposed to the memorial sites, we visited a couple different development project sites. The first was near-and-dear to my heart. It was a NGO and government sponsored project to help fight poverty and malnutrition by building sustainable stoves. The stoves were made out of a creative mixture of sand and mud that with a limited amount of heat could stay warm for hours. This project has supplied people with jobs, clean boiled water, and they use about ¾ less firewood which is a benefit to the environment and also to the women and girls who have to go far distances to collect firewood. Now, instead of collecting wood, the girls are able to go to school! Some of the villages nearby have received large stoves in the school so that the children are able to receive sustenance during the school day. Amazing huh! When asked how the stove project has helped to create peace and reconciliation, the villagers responded that making the stoves has pulled them together and has given them hope for the future. Their children study together and are growing into a collaborative existence.

A Portrait of Kigali, Rwanda

In the furry of my thoughts, in the previous entry I failed to introduce you to my temporary home so welcome to Rwanda! Kigali is the bustling capitol of Rwanda. As the center of the most densely populated country in Africa, Kigali is hopping! The streets are packed with: goats, cows, monkeys, and bone-thin dogs; men in pinstriped business suits and women in classy business attire both heading to work; children in school uniforms skipping past shoeles children who’s ragged clothing hangs off of their shrunken bodies; army officers swinging loaded guns; lots of garbage (ugh); cars of all makes and in all levels of condition; mutatos(taxi buses and taxi motorcycles-I had my first motorcycle ride last night!); women balancing a plate of bananas on their heads, gallon jugs of water in thier hands, and a crying baby strapped to their back; genocide victims who physical condition has reduced them to begging; citizen work teams digging ditches or repairing the road; youthful boys and girls walking hand in hand while hurrying from school to their volunteer work with any number of grassroots organizations; people, friends and strangers, greeting on another moraho(good day).

Sitting and watching the street activity has given me one of the most poignant summaries of the country, its history, prospects for the future, and of Rwandan living. The city streets weave around lush, green, hilly country side. The cool climate and green beauty has surprised and impressed me almost as much as the beauty of the people.

I don’t always feel welcome though. As I walk down the streets I am greeted by calls of mozungo-white person. The first time I heard this title used I was out for an early morning walk. I hung my shoulders and wanted to pull my black jacket up over my face. I felt targeted, uncomfortable, and like an invader. Accenting physical differences to create separation/segregation is painful. In that moment of personal discomfort I experienced the years of pain and segregation that the Rwandan people have carried. As I turned to find my caller I spotted an elderly man grinning with a toothless smile and waving energetically; my pain was self-imposed. Since then I have been hollered at countless times. Sometimes in a friendly/curious manner and sometimes it is yelled from behind a frown and stern eyes. The white skin of German, French, and Belgium colonialists has played a divisive and essentially evil role in shaping Rwanda. The color of my skin has been stigmatized for a reason; the color of the Rwandans skin has been unjustly stigmatized and it is now their time to rectify the past.

Peace