Kigali Genocide Memorial and Commision for Prevention

Back-post from 7-29-11

It has finally hit me that I am not on vacation, that I am half way across the world and that I am in a culture that is very different than my own (yet also extremely similar… I know this is hard to comprehend, but if you were here you would definitely get it). 

Today we visited the National Commission Against Genocide and had a very productive discussion.  Following this, we traveled across town to the Kigali Genocide Memorial were we were able to explore both the inside and outside, alone.  We were given a map and an audio guide.  I started outside and kind of got lost.  I decided to then go inside and save the gardens and mass graves for afterwards.  I heard the history prior to the 1994 genocide and followed through to the 100 day massacres and then the years of rebuilding and reconciliation that followed to the present day.  I saw accompanying videos, pictures, and artifacts.  Traveling through this maze of a museum, I found myself feeling incredibly alone.  I felt as if all of the happiness in the world (and inside of me) was being sucked out.  Hearing the testimony of some survivors, reading the last words of those who perished, and seeing the tools used to slaughter them…. I felt as if I was losing hope in humanity.  Why did no one help these people?  Why did the world not intervene?  It is as if we all turned our heads in different directions to ensure that we did not see the carnage that was occurring before our eyes. 

I made a promise that I would not cry.  I promised myself I would be strong in memory of these brave and mainly innocent people.  I was doing so well… until I came to the room that had pictures of victims that had been provided by family members.  There were so many and this was just an incredibly small increment of victims.  I looked at every single picture that was hanging on the walls.  Men, women, children, elders, infants…. I looked into a glimpse of their lives, an earlier and happier time.  I stared into their eyes wondering why them?  I lost it.  I thought I had to view every picture.  I had to remember every face.  I couldn’t skip any because they all deserved to be recognized and the cruelties they endured can and should never be forgotten.  From there I walked into a room that had skulls and bones from various body parts displayed behind glass.  I could see the marks from bullets and machetes in the skulls.  I kept walking.  Next I walked into a room where some clothes were displayed along with a few personal effects.  An “I love Canada” t-shirt caught my eye and I immediately thought of my new friend Christina who is from Canada and absolutely is in love with her homeland.  I was just so overwhelmed.  I sat down watching a projector display the same testimonies over and over again on a far wall.  I was thinking so many things and had so many questions that I knew would never be answered.  No one can tell me why this happened, why no one helped, or why other genocides and human rights abuses are still occurring.  Every answer I receive is unsatisfactory and leaves a whole even deeper than before because I know that many people accept this situation and others like it as “life.”

So as I was sitting there…. Feeling utterly helpless and completely alone, Christina walks in.  She looks around.  We sit in silence re-watching the testimonies.  Before long we have fallen into each other in tears.  It was obvious at that point that the same emotions were running through as well.  We decided to trek ahead together.  The most intense was yet to come in the Children’s Room.  Life-size pictures were displayed of children, toddles, and infants.  Below the picture it included the child’s name and other info such as their best friend, favorite drink or food, favorite play item or sport.  It also included how they died (burned alive, banged against a wall, shot, chopped up, etc.), their last memory (seeing his mother brutally murdered), and last words (UNAMIR will come!).  It was heart breaking.  I could barely even move forward at this point. 

Christina and I slowly finished the memorial together, eventually meeting the rest of the group at the mass graves to pay our respects.  I tried to hide my tears behind my sunglasses, but Lowell noticed and placed his arm around me just like a father would to a small child.  It was so comforting and as I looked around I realized that our group was very unique, completely different, and a little crazy; however, we were here together.  We thought we were choosing Rwanda, but in reality Rwanda chose us.  I realized that it doesn’t matter how many books you read or how much research you think you have done to prepare yourself mentally, it is never enough.  Being here is an experience that is nearly impossible to write about.  It is an experience that you have to…. Experience.