Fun with Mom in Kigali.

Sunday, July 17

Today was my first full day with Mom in Rwanda! When she found out I had been accepted to the study abroad program in March, she mentioned wanting to visit Africa and the possibility of meeting up with me somewhere on the continent. It took a while for us to nail down our plans, but we finally decided she would come to Kigali for a few days, then we would fly to Kenya to spend some time at a safari lodge in Amboseli National Park. That way, I could get my meaningful, educational experience in Rwanda, but I could still do the "touristy" things like look at animals!

After breakfast, we went to visit the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center. We also took Kiela (who didn't get to go with us the first Sunday) and Tyler and Lauren, who just wanted to revisit and spend some more time at the memorial. I didn't think I would want to go back inside, so I brought my book (No Future Without Forgiveness by Desmond Tutu that I checked out of the IGSC library) to sit outside and read. But once I got there, I ended up walking through the exhibits again because I wanted to point some things out to my mom (like the chain that Bea's brother had been buried with). I'm glad I went through it again because I noticed some different things this time.

Apparently, the first the time I went through, I missed all the good stories. There was not much good that occurred during the genocide (obviously), but the memorial center did have a room dedicated to honoring those people who had saved lives during the genocide. One of the most memorable stories was about Frodouald Karuhije, a Hutu who thought the RPF was going to kill him. He dug a trench to hide in, but once he realized the genocide was being committed against the Tutsi, not the Hutu, he used it to hide 14 Tutsis from the genocidaires. His daughter and niece also helped by preparing meals and taking them to the Tutsis in their hiding spot. Similarly, Damas Mutezintare Gisimba saved people who had been left alive in the mass graves.

I was so thankful I went back through the center after I read these stories, considering they were the only comforting part of the enter memorial. I also noticed more tragedy this time, however. Did you know the number of foreign troops used in the evacuation of diplomatic staff and foreign workers would have been sufficient to stop the genocide? Neither did I. Or that after the Security Council agreed to established UNAMIR II on May 17 (about seven weeks before the genocide finally ended), the U.S. took over a month to provide the 50 armored personnel carriers it had promised? The French weren’t blameless, either (as we well know). In fact, they were partially responsible for the massacre at Bisesero. Over 50,000 Tutsis were hiding in these hills, until the French troops told them it was safe to come out. The interahamwe were waiting for them, and only 1,000 Tutsis survived.

I lost my mom somewhere in the memorial rooms at the end of the timeline. When I found her outside, she was pretty ready to leave. “I can’t believe you’ve been doing this for two weeks,” she said. I assured her we were not always surrounded by so many gloomy memories. We had been visiting cultural centers, learning about the government and enjoying our new friendships with the Rwandan students. But it’s true; the two weeks were hard, especially after we got to hear the personal stories of our own acquaintances there, including one IGSC student whose parents and six brothers and sisters were murdered during the genocide.

It was time to move on, then, so we went back into the city in the hopes of finding Aroma Café, a small shop we had visited one night for dinner. Tyler remembered its general location, so we had the cab drop us off at a familiar hotel and we walked until we found it. On the way, we passed the open market, which I had promised to show my mother. After lunch (samosas and a milkshake for me – yum!), the other students walked back to the apartments while I took my mom to the market. The kids loved her blonde hair. They followed us constantly, asking us to visit their stalls and holding up vegetables and other goods for us to evaluate. My mom wasn’t as timid as I was when it came to taking pictures, so I finally got some good shots of the market:

We (and by we, I mean Mom) purchased some decorative baskets to hang on the wall at home and a couple wooden bangles for ourselves. (I chose yellow and black, to show my Mizzou spirit during the upcoming fall semester.) By then, the time difference (nine hours from San Francisco) was starting to hit Mom, so we headed back to the hotel for a short nap before the closing ceremony that night.

The closing ceremony had been changed to earlier (originally it was the end of the third week), so Kiela and I got out our fabric to fashion some togas. Unfortunately, my fabric was not two yards. I guess I got swindled at the market! I found a couple wrap styles that could have worked, but then I learned the girls who had gotten traditional clothes made hadn’t received the finished products yet. I went with a sundress instead, as it was easier to wear and I wouldn’t be the only one not in “African” clothing.

Dinner was at a nice outdoor restaurant – wine included. After eating, all the students shared a little bit of their experience in Rwanda. I kept it short and simple: “I am one of those people who’s leaving early, on Tuesday, but had I known the wonderful experiences I would have and all the people I would meet and how much I learn, I would have scheduled to stay a little bit longer. But I am grateful for everything I have learned so far, and thank you all for being a part of that. And I can’t wait to come back some day.”

And we got T-shirts!

Ours loosely say: "How are you?" and "I'm fine."

It is what she said.

Sorry I am so far behind with my writing. But my goal is to catch up before August 1 because:

1) I head back to school on August 5 and then I know I’ll never catch up.

2) My journal (aka this blog) is due to my professor on August 1, so I don’t really have a choice.

3) I just spent an amazing three days in Kenya, and I want to tell you all about that, too!

So, to finish out my last week in Rwanda:

Tuesday, July 12

Today continued more discussions on religion and what specific groups did (or didn’t do) during the genocide. After a pretty statistic-heavy presentation about the Gacaca Court (Rwanda’s local way of dealing with perpetrators after the genocide, excluding organizers and perpetrators of sexual abuse, who are tried in the UN’s International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda), we had a Muslim leader speak to us in the afternoon.

The speaker began by describing the historical relationship of Muslims and Rwandan leaders. Traditionally, relations between the colonial administration and Muslims were tense. Muslims could not be educated in Rwanda unless they adopted Christian names, so many Muslim parents were hesitant to enroll their kids because of fear of conversion. Muslim Rwandans, while not classified as either Hutu or Tutsi, traditionally sided with the Tutsi group because they both felt persecuted after the Hutu government took power in 1959. During the genocide, many Muslims hid Tutsis in their mosques. Whereas those who hid in the churches were usually massacred, Tutsis who hid in mosques were not attacked. Muslim leaders also preached against the genocide, reminding Rwandans not to murder their brothers and sisters.

However, this is not to say that Muslims were blameless in the genocide. While it is true that there were Muslims who hid Tutsis in their homes and saved them, there were also Muslims who participated as genocidaires. (Just as there were also Christians who helped Tutsis hide from their killers.) In fact, one person in the classroom testified that her family was murdered by a Muslim in 1994. The thing that surprised me the most was that the author of the "Hutu Ten Commandments" - a propaganda document from 1990 encouraging the Hutu to recognize their superiority over their Tutsi neighbors and destroy the Tutsi influence in Rwanda - was a Muslim. To be clear, I don't blame Islam as a religion or Muslims as a group for this document; it is the responsibility of the specific people who wrote and published it. However, I am a little disappointed that the general public is always so willing to criticize the Catholic Church and other Christian groups for their condemnable behavior during the genocide, but after months of studying this is the first time someone mentioned the author of the Hutu Ten Commandments - arguably the worst thing released in the media to instigate the genocide - was a Muslim. It makes me wonder why people are so quick to blame the Pope but ignore people of other religions who failed to step in or directly encouraged hatred and murder.

On a lighter note (of course), I wanted to include a picture of my roommates on the trip. For dinner on Tuesday, we went to a new restaurant (adorable, nice outdoor eating area, really yummy tortillas) and took some pictures outside.

The roomies: Lauren, me, Colbey, Kiela.

A lesson in American humor.

And finally, you might be wondering about the title of this post because nothing so far has been relevant. Well, we've been trying to teach our Rwandan friend Emmanuel some American humor, namely "That's what she said" and sarcasm. Unfortunately, we introduced him to both at the same time, which caused some confusion. Now, every time I say something that provokes a laugh, Emmanuel responds with, "It is what she said," even if the joke was not suggestive.

Likewise, any time someone tries to use sarcasm on Emmanuel, he doesn't sense it and gets offended. For example, one day he asked Kiela if he could sit by her at lunch, and she said no.

• Emmanuel: "Oh, I'm sorry, is someone already sitting here?"
• Kiela: "No, I just don't want you to sit here."
• Emmanuel: "Really?"
• Kiela: "I would rather have you sit somewhere else."

At this point, Emmanuel was looking rather distraught, so I jumped in from across the table to tell him: "Emmanuel! Sarcasm." He looked questioningly at Kiela and asked, "Really?" We all began laughing, and she told him that of course he could sit down. He was very relieved, saying, "Good. I was going to say, 'You really offended me.'"

He has gotten better at recognizing sarcasm, but he still confuses it with "That's what she said." Whenever he correctly identifies sarcasm, he follows up with, "It is what she said," which by now is almost as funny as the original intention of the joke anyway.

Echoes of peace.

Monday, July 11

After a busy and emotional weekend, we returned to our normal schedule of morning lectures at IGSC. The religious discussions weren't over, though, as our speakers today included a Catholic priest and a Presbyterian minister. I had really been looking forward to hearing from members of the religious community, especially after how little the churches did for the Tutsi during the genocide, but I was really disappointed by the priest's presentation. First, he was extremely difficult to understand, so I didn't catch most of what he was saying. Second, I felt his points were very convoluted, and he seemed to be trying to dodge blame to the extent he wasn't very helpful in his explanations when students asked questions.

One strange thing that came out of the lecture was the idea that genocide is not a sin in the Catholic Church. Maybe I missed that part of the presentation (like I said, he was difficult to understand, which therefore made it hard for me to concentrate), but I'm pretty sure that is inaccurate. After all, if murder is a sin (and it definitely is), why wouldn't murdering thousands of people of a single ethnicity be a sin? I think he was trying to say that the Catholic Church as an institution did not accept responsibility for the genocide, but it wasn't presented that way. As I already mentioned, I believe in personal responsibility, and I don't think it's the Church's fault that some priests decided to betray their congregations any more than I blame the Church when a priest decides to molest a little boy, but I don't think he presented his argument very well.

While looking for pictures for this post, I stumbled upon this interesting article comparing the Pope's reaction to Irish priests who have molested children to priests who led massacres during the genocide.

The altar at Nyamata Church, which we visited yesterday, surrounded by victims' clothing.

Strawberry Fanta!

And on to less serious and more touristy topics....

After lunch, several of us went to the open market to get fabric for our closing ceremony dresses.  I was able to get two meters of a "traditional"-looking green, yellow and blue print (the colors of the Rwandan flag) for 2,500 francs. I tried to negotiate down, but failed. Oh well, most of the shopkeepers had been starting at at least 3,000, so I still thought I got a good deal. After purchasing our fabric, we went to visit a tailor. At least, I thought we were visiting a tailor. Instead, we picked her up in a very crowded area of Kigali and pulled into a small parking lot so she could fit us on the bus.

Amusing? Yes. Hot? Definitely yes.

Because my roommate Kiela and I are leaving during the third week and still didn't know if the closing ceremonies were being rescheduled for earlier, we opted not get something made and just fashion ourselves a toga if needed. (The toga-making skill is only one of the many benefits of being in a sorority. Ha.) While everyone else was being fitted in the bus, we left with Colbey (another roommate) to walk around this new area of the city.

During all our meals so far in Rwanda, our beverage options have been: Coca Cola, Citron Fanta, Fiesta Fanta (grape), Orange Fanta, Sprite and water. We had heard of the elusive Strawberry Fanta, but hadn't had the opportunity to try it yet. While strolling down the street, we found some! And purchased it, of course. With a chocolate bar. Yum. And drank it. And took pictures of this fabulous experience.

Kiela got a Coke. And now she regrets it. Lame.

Art After the Genocide

Our evening schedule was a little different today in that we had another classroom meeting before dinner. We had two guest speakers/performances visit us. First, we heard from a group that makes documentary films about the genocide. They spoke briefly about the process and then we watched their most recent film, which included interviews with survivors of the genocide.

The second presentation, a Rwandan theater group called Mashirika, was amazing. The woman who led the informational presentation was very well spoken, and the performance itself was unbelievably touching. It was a kind of interpretative storytelling, for lack of a better term, in which one young woman recited a monologue about the genocide as another young woman and two men danced slowly behind her. The story wasn't her own, but she performed it so well I didn't realize that until the end. She spoke of seeing the river full of Tutsi bodies, including an infant caught against a rock. Her voice rose to almost unbearable levels as she asked:

"What kind of man would kill a baby? A man like you?

Or a man like me?"

After the monologue, the female dancer in the background began singing a gorgeous (and surprisingly uplifting) song called "Echoes of Peace." I'm going to try to find it for my iPod; it was that good. It was definitely the best session we had at the CNLG building so far.

I found this poster on Mashirika's website. This particular quote really hit me during the slide show we watched before their performance. Also, the man in this poster was one of the dancers we saw.

There's a hole in my mosquito net!

Wednesday, July 6

Now that we had already been to the CLNG building once (where our classes are located), a few members of the group decided to walk to class Wednesday morning. We gave ourselves an hour just to be safe, but our stop at the coffee shop took longer than expected. We're used to Starbucks' counter service, but here in Rwanda they like to make it an experience, meaning you sit and have a waitress, even if you're getting coffee to go. So at 8:35, as we were walking down the street, our bus pulled up by the side of the road. We were late. Oops. The bus drove us the rest of the way, and we had to start class a little late. (Note: We have now timed the walk and it takes about 36 minutes. So we don't stop for coffee, and we haven't been late again.)

Just for your information (if you continue to read my blog), a typical weekday for this program is set up like this:

• 8:30 - 10 a.m.: Guest speakers/lectures, part one.
• 10 - 10:30 a.m.: Coffee/pastry break!
• 11 a.m. - 12 p.m.: Guest speakers/lectures, part two.
• 12 p.m. - 2 p.m.: Lunch and rest.
• 2 - 4:30(ish) p.m.: Visits to organizations/memorial sites/etc. or another guest speaker.
• 4:30(ish) - 7 p.m.: Free time, shopping, cultural experiences, etc.
• 7 p.m.: Dinner.

Our first speaker on Wednesday was Jose Kabago, a former professor and current Rwandan senator, who lectured about the history of the country and genocide in particular. Although he shared a lot of good information, I found the post-lunch session to be much more interesting and helpful to my understanding of Rwandan society as affected by the genocide.

Mr. Ngoga Aristarque from the Association of Rwandan Student Survivors of Genocide was our second speaker of the day. This association (abbreviated GAERG in Kinyarwanda) aims to make Rwanda "a beautiful, shining country proud to be inherited by a healed, confident, motivated, hopeful and successful generation," according to a handout he gave us. The association was created after the genocide for students because many of them had lost their families in the genocide. Through GAERG, the students are able to get new families, composed of a mom, dad and multiple children. One of the IGSC students who has been traveling with us has 26 students through this organization. Although the children can be older than the parents in some cases, they are expected to adopt the traditional roles of their place in the family. For example, the parents are caregivers for the children, who in return respect and obey their parents, and it becomes "a real kinship," as Ngoga said. "We create a relationship to be in the place of those who were killed in the genocide." In fact, Ngoga is going to be in his GAERG sister's wedding this summer, and their father from the organization will give her away.

The main objectives of GAERG is the commemoration and prevention of genocide in Rwanda, so another major thing the organization does is to commemorate those families that were completely wiped out by the genocide. Since 2009, GAERG has sponsored an event to remember those families that have no living relatives to remember them. The organization also conducts a census in different districts to try to get a number of how many such families in exist. For example, in Karongi District alone, almost 3,000 families totaling over 13,000 people perished. The census gathers information from neighbors who might remember their names, which can then be read at the event. When possible, their pictures are projected and their place of death is identified.

In addition to all these statistics, Ngoga's presentation led to a very difficult discussion. He mentioned that he personally would not be able to marry a Hutu woman after what happened, even today. This raised some questions from our IGSC students that are not Tutsi, who wanted to know what type of reconciliation would be necessary for him to be able to interact with a Hutu on that level, at which point our professor asked, "Does the reconciliation need to be coming from the survivor?" This discussion made me realize how recent the genocide really was. Most of the people who survived the genocide are still alive today; they remember the atrocities that were committed; they recognize their family's killers. I can't think of anything analogous to this in America, as the most severe racial tension I can think of - slavery - was so long ago that no one alive today can remember it, nor even their parents or grandparents.

And finally, I have to include a picture (or two) to leave you on a happier note:

We got mosquito nets in our apartments Wednesday night. We had quite a fun photo shoot inside the bridal-looking nets.

And then of course I found a hole. Oh well. That's why I take my doxy daily. Good times in 221B.

Zebras are for tourists.

Tuesday, July 5

Tuesday was the first day of classes at the Interdisciplinary Genocide Studies Center. After our "Opening Ceremonies" at the school, where the faculty members each spoke about his or her focus in genocide studies and plans for the program, we had lunch at a nearby hospital. Yes, we ate at a hospital. We thought it sounded a little strange, but the view at the rooftop buffet turned out to be phenomenal:

After lunch, we visited the "Neighborhood House"/"Rwanda Avenir," a healing place for widows of the genocide. When we arrived, there were several women sitting in the gazebo making traditional Rwandan paintings. I found a zebra that I really liked, but during the discussion I learned they only started painting zebras for the tourists. Of course, the "cultured traveler" inside me didn't want a zebra after that. I decided I wanted a painting that had historical significance in Rwanda, like the one on the second row, far right, in the below picture:

This design is the same design used on the woven mats that shielded the marriage bed from visitors in Rwandan homes. I thought that would be a neat story to tell when I brought my painting home, but of course it got snatched up right away. I decided I wasn't going to buy one at all, but then every other person in my group was making a purchase. #peerpressure. I got the zebra. (Judge me. It's okay.)

 

But the real reason we went to Avenir was to learn about the organization and hear testimony from the widows. Above is a (very bad) photograph of Avenir's guest house. It is a place for people to stay when they need a cheap bed while passing through Kigali. You can rent a room for 12,000 francs per night, which is only $20. Aside from the guest house, Avenir provides monetary and psychological assistance for the widows of the genocide. There is a resting room in the Neighborhood House that is used for the women to sit, converse and reflect on their experiences. Today, Avenir has expanded to a village of 180 houses for widows and orphans to live in. (No one lives in the Neighborhood House itself.)

The traditional paintings I talked about earlier are one way Avenir helps the widows. They create these paintings both as a form of art therapy and a way to earn a small income. (I bought my zebra painting for 7,000 francs, or a little over $10.) 

One of the women who spoke to us at Avenir is a counselor by profession, and she shared one of her most difficult experiences with us. She counseled a man after the genocide who visited her for several sessions. On his fourth session, he finally opened up and confessed about the murders he had committed during the genocide. While describing one act, she realized he was describing the death of her father. As soon as she realized he was her father's killer, she asked him to leave and told him she could not treat him anymore. When the genocidaire (someone who has committed acts of genocide) realized it was her father, he publicly confessed to the community, but she still can't see him. (And I can't really blame her.)

And now, to end on a lighter note:

 

I just thought this swaddled baby was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. I was a little nervous when the mother first tied her baby onto her back, but the baby held on tight until the blanket was snugly around her. And she made funny engine-like noises when her mother walked around.