Reflections on Rwanda - 2010

It has been a busy year, with many changes and developments in the ROR program!

First, SHOUT Canada is now a registered non-profit corporation in Canada! This has been a very long process, but we are excited to see the growth of SHOUT and, hopefully, growth in our programming!

The biggest accomplishment of 2010? Reflections on Rwanda leaves shortly for another program in the country, taking students and young professionals from across Canada to participate in the genocide-education program. The program will be very similar to that run in 2009, but with a dynamic new set of faces! Two past-participants and organizers will accompany the program, with two others on the ground in Canada and England to make sure everything goes off without a hitch (or, with as few hitches as possible!)

Watch here to see the impressions and experiences of those on the trip-- bon voyage mes amis!

Leaving Kigali - A Sad Day.

What a day.

For lunch, we

met with one of my favourite people in the world,Eloge.Eloge is a survivor, and I blogged about him early on the first thing we did when we arrived in Rwanda was to attend a memorial service for his father. We talked about the program, and Eloge told us how impressed he was and how much he believed in us. He’s really part of the team, so it didn’t need to be said—but there’s something about approval from this guy that just makes your day perfect. As always, he gave a little impromptu speech that made everyone cry, but was uplifting at the same time. I don’t know what I believe in religiously—its come up a lot in this country—but I know that when I sit with Eloge I see all the best things the world has to offer. Whatever God is, it shines through him. I know he will change the world.

We also had a little cry with Faustin, our “guide”/BFF. We thanked him for everything he did for us, and he made a little speech. He said he has no family, and he has been searching for someone to be his sister.He took Sara’s hand, and said he had been waiting for her— to be his family.He is getting married to his beloved “bebe”, and he always thought she deserved a sister—Sara is that woman. SO sweet. He told me that I was tranquil and said everything with my eyes—and that I had the qualities of a leader. I countered that if he remembered my RDB experience, I certainly wasn’t always tranquil haha… but I think I was quieter around Faustin because he was always explaining things in French and my mind isn’t fast enough to translate and make informed commentary before he went on to the next thing. I generally understood him, but translating took me too long!

Sara’s mom took us all out to Heaven, an amazing expat restaurant.We had, hands down, the best meal in Africa. Sara even got a free little cake and birthday song—the humiliating type where 10 people come out of the kitchen singing and bring a little cake with a candle.The best part was they set it in front of me, so I got the abject humiliation while I tried to tell them to move the thing to her.

Alas. Today is the end of Kigali, for now. I woke up to WATER for the first time in 4 days, and despite its freezing-ness, I had the best 20 min shower ever. You appreciate everything much more here. A cold shower is far, far better than no shower. Richard, one of the survivors we met along the week, stopped by the house to visit this morning. He just wanted to say goodbye. So sweet of him. Everyone has been very welcoming and wants us to come back as soon as we can. I think they would keep us here if they could! The generosity is astounding.

Everyone else if off to a wedding tonight. They’re going to get traditional African clothes today. I’m at the airport right now, in Kigali, waiting to fly to Cairo…via Addis Ababa and Khartoum. Trying not to think about that second one.

Heroes and Villains

As promised, today I will begin trying to put words to some of my recent experiences.

The first relates to my understanding of the notion of heroes and villains. What/who is a hero and what/who is a villain? In pre-genocide Rwanda, Mister X was considered a sadist in one of the villages we visited- he was renowned for his cruelty and people often wondered if he was mentally stable. During the genocide, this same Mister X was renowned for his heroism because he was able to murder Tutsis so ruthlessly and with so little remorse.

Mister Y, however, risked his own life during the genocide to save 23 Tutsis - using his position in the military to smuggle them into Burundi. After the genocide, Mister Y is considered a traitor in his home town and one of his neighbours recently poisoned one of his children. What/who is a hero and what/who is a villain?

This is just one example of some of the absurdity I have been trying to deal with recently. Indeed, it seems that during the genocide, black turned to white and white to black, good became evil and evil became good.

My gut reaction has been anger - how could this have happened? However, as wise Holocaust survivors have often told me, it does no good to be angry about what happened, we cannot change the evil that has been done. We can only affect change in the present and future by learning from our mistakes in the past.

Raffi

Murambi. One of the worst crimes in history.

I awoke this morning around 5am, to the city-wide call to the mosque. In cities where there is a large Muslim population there is an early morning prayer call that sounds like something between a song and a speech. This is the second one I’ve woken up to in Africa, and I always wonder what’s going on for a second before I remember. After a stellar freezing “shower” (read: drip from a tap) we headed out for breakfast and off to Murambi Memorial.

Murambi was a technical school where over 50,000 were killed. The Tutsis in the region were hiding in churches but became too numerous and were told by the town leaders to go to the school where they would be protected. They were attacked 4 times, but it was the last attack that destroyed the resistance. The Tutsis were suffering starvation and dehydration, and at 3am late in April, the Interhamwe slaughtered the refugees.

We were guided by a Hutu woman whose Tutsi husband and two sons were killed at this site. She saved her daughter by carrying her on her back and fleeing to her hometown after the massacre. It strikes me each time we go to one of these sites and the guides have almost universally survived the savagery themselves and lost everyone they loved.Yet, they are there. They are walking through the bones and the bodies and sharing the site with tourists taking pictures. I don’t know if I, despite how much I would want the events remembered across the world, would be able to do that. Murambi is a particularly difficult site, with many buildings holding the full remains of people. They have been preserved with a type of paint or thin plaster and the looks of horror and pain are still etched on their face.s I don’t have any pictures… I felt similar to how I did in Majdanek, Poland, in that I felt like I was violating something sacred.It was heartbreaking.

I don’t really have anything else to say at the moment…. It’s very bright today and I think I’ve got sunstroke. Again. Feeling not so hot…we’re going for lunch and a few liters of water right now. Maybe I’ll be able to reconcile some of these events and have something more insightful to say later on… but I don’t expect much. Today I felt like I really saw the genocide. And now I feel empty.

-Candace

Rwanda and the Congo!

Internet has been limited over the past few days, and while I know it may be positive and help me learn to enjoy life and live without constant access to the outside world, I am still unable to find the joy in being without the world wide web. I know that’s a sad thing, but it’s the truth and I admit it.

After the ill-fated Gorilla adventure (ill for me, that is) we headed to Gisenyi to stay with Daniel’s family. They are the nicest people in the world and opened their house to us immediately—they even had our shoes washed. The home was lovely and was the first time I’ve seen HOT WATER in weeks. Most showers in Africa are cold water only—if there is a shower. So, we’ve been having ice cold ones for a long time—the hot shower was a real treat. As was the massive and amazing supper. I refer to African chicken as “marathon chicken” because it runs around all the time and is all sinewy and skinny…this, there is no meat. Somehow, these people found real chicken. After a fantastic meal we headed out to “take tea” on the veranda and have an impromptu dance party where local African daces were taught. We were not the best of students, but it was a valiant effort and much fun! I’m pretty happy to have an African family now—they invited me over anytime and truly make everyone feel at home. With 8 children, I suppose that would be second nature!

We decided to take an exciting side-adventure at this point, as the family is Congolese but livesin Rwanda. We had all discussed going to Goma with enthusiasm, but weren’t sure if we would really do it. This morning, we did. We all piled into the jeep and set off for the border—some 3 minutes away. Our passports were taken to be stamped and the Congolese authority, who said they would keep them and we’d deal with the “formalities” later. As you can imagine, we were not

impressed by this but Daniel's cousin said that we should trust him to deal with it and so we did. We left our passports with Congolese customs officers—perhaps one of the most corrupt countries on earth. To save anyone a heart attack while reading this post—we got them back without incident.

Goma was amazing, and not what I expected. A volcano devastated the region 8 years ago, and people have built their homes on the volcanic rocks left behind. Much is still black and charred, and with such a lack of vegetation it makes the area looks desolate.Aside from this, there is a clear lack of happiness in the people of Goma. In Rwanda, everyone is happy and smiling and excited to see us—even if their own lives have been unimaginably difficult. In Goma, everyone seems sad. There is extreme poverty and extreme wealth, with no visible distribution. Perhaps comparing to Rwanda is unfair—Rwanda is 15 yrs out of war and the DRC is still in it.

We did a tour of Gisenyi after getting back to Rwanda, and headed off on the long, bumpy ride to Kibuye. The road was not recommended, but was a few hrs faster than the alternative, more navigable, route. Maybe not our best decision ever. I usually take the back of the jeep because I don’t get as carsick by being thrown around—thanks to the extensive pharmacy I brought with me. But this was insane. We were tossed around for 3 hrs getting to Kibuye—at one point my head hit the ceiling and I heard my neck snap. That was a great moment. We finally hit our hotel and passed out for a few hours of blessed sleep.

This morning, we briefly visited a church where many had been killed.Kibuye was a Tutsi area, predominantly, and as such the fighting was most deadly and bloody here. We also were lucky enough to met with Josephine, a Hutu who sheltered Tutsis in the war. She took in 5 at a time, and by cover of darkness snuck them to the shores of Lake Kivu where she had hidden boats to take them to the Congo and out of the war. She also recounted the story of Thomas, a child who came to her. She protected him despite the opposition of her husband, and eventually when it became too dangerous hid the child with her parents. After the war, he was raised as her own son and is now studying in Kigali. As for the people in her town, they are afraid of here. They don’t trust her after finding out she protected Tutsis—but she just smiles and seems grateful for life. An amazing woman.

We headed off on another gem of a road to Bisesero, the site where 30,000-50,000 were killed.

The area was called the “Hill of Resistance”, where Tutsis banded together to fight back against the Interhamwe. Unfortunately, they were massacred in June 2004. We met a man at the site whose entire family—parents, 11 brothers and sisters and wife—was murdered in the area. He is all that remains.The site itself if built, but there is nothing inside and it is a work in progress. There is however a tin shack that houses the bones of many who were murdered. It is a strange thing, to walk into a room of human skulls. I want to say it is sad and horrific, but those are clearly implied. What surprised me was how little emotion I felt—indifference is a terrible thing, but I cannot comprehend that each of those bones was a person. I know it is real, but it does not seem to be. Like the Holocaust program and my experiences in Poland, I don’t believe I will fully synthesize this information until I return home and have more time to think.

We are in Butare now, ready for our last day outside Kigali and our last set of memorial sites. Murambi Memorial is known as the most visceral and difficult of all the sites, so I am personally not looking forward to it. But, this is the job we are here to do and the lessons we are to learn.

-Candace

Umuzungu's in Goma

It’s July 7th, there is so much to say, I don’t know where to begin. We left Kigali on the 3rd to travel around the country. The first stop was Ruhengeri to see the gorillas. Raffi and I had quite the experience to say the least. The office ended up over booking, so we were in a group on our own with five soldiers and a guide. They took us on a route that was not usually traversed because all the other routes had been taken by the other groups. We climbed for four hours, a portion of which was a steep jungle and a soldier using a machete to cut through the various branches and plants. We finally made it to the gorillas. Needless to say it was magnificent and well worth the treacherous climb.

The next two days were spent in Gisenyi with Daniel’s family, which was just like being at home and much needed. Despite what my mother, Eloge, and many others had advised, we crossed the border into the Congo with the help of Daniel’s family. In a mere few hours, I began to comprehend the contradictions and corruption that seems to be widespread in the region. Apparently to get through we had to leave our passports with the Congolese border agents. We questioned whether we would see our precious passports again. Apparently Canadian passports sell for around $200 US in the Congo. Thanks to Daniel’s cousin there was no problem.

We drove through the streets of Goma, which according to me, looked worse than the World Vision adds you would see on television. Because of the devastation of the volcanoes in 2001, everything had been completely destroyed. People’s homes were built on black volcanic rocks, there are apparently anywhere from 8 to 15 people living together per house. Due to the violence in other parts of the Congo, many have fled to Goma, so it is totally populated with people who have no means of survival. It is bleak and overwhelmingly depressing. In Rwanda, everyone seems happy to see muzungo’s (white people), even if they are struggling, they seem happy. They run after us, wave at us, want to be around us. In the Congo, no one seemed happy, especially when seeing us.

Perhaps what is even more depressing is the hypocrisy of it all. After passing through the bleak streets of Goma, we reached Lake Kivu where beautiful mansions stand along the water. The Congo has a vast amount of resources, including gold, diamonds, and many minerals. The divide of wealth is unlike anything I have seen. It seems that very few are profiting off of the richness of the country, while the rest fight to survive on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, the head of MONUC (the UN mission in the Congo) stays in one of these mansions. MONUC has a mission of 20,000 in the Eastern region of the Congo, and spends one billion dollars per year to run the mission. We saw blue helmets around Goma who literally sat on tanks and did nothing. After passing the border back into Rwanda, we met drunk MONUC peacekeepers who asked to get their pictures taken with us umuzungu’s. I have always had a skeptical view of the UN, even though I am aware that it is all we have to deal with major peace and security issues. I now have even less faith in this corrupt and bureaucratic “peacemaking” institution. As someone said, it is an international mafia.

To explain the past few days of travelling around this country would be impossible. Seeing the gorillas, visiting Goma, listening to a survivor on the hills of resistance in Bisesero, and seeing mummified bodies at Murambi has left me feeling very confused and unsatisfied. I want answers. I have many questions that no one seems capable of answering. Perhaps I will never find answers. What I do know is that I am even more motivated to learn about this region. I don’t know if I will ever understand it, but I will certainly keep trying.

Off to Hotel Milles Collines for happy hour!!
Sara

Checking back in from Kigali

Having not posted an entry in several days, I can genuinely say that I do not know where to start. Part of the reason I haven't posted is because we have been out of Kigali, which makes internet access less available, however, the other part of the reason relates to my own inability to put my feelings to words. It is as if, on the one hand, I have so much to say, but, on the other hand, nothing at all. Luckily, Candace has been keeping the blog full of stories and pictures. Tomorrow, I will do my best to post a proper entry, but for now, my soup at the restaurant adjacent is getting cold. Best, Raffi