This was a difficult month to be in Rwanda. During April,
the rainy season reaches its climax. The days are damp and wet, the nights
colder and darker, as the stars hide behind the clouds. My shoes are caked in
mud, but there’s little point trying to wash them when there’s little chance of
them ever getting dry. April is also the start of the genocide memorial period,
a time when the entire country takes a moment to pause, and remember the events
of 19 years ago.
On April 7th, 1994, the President of Rwanda was
returning from a diplomatic trip to Arusha to settle disputes between the
Rwandan government, and the Tutsi rebel armies, who had taken refuge in
neighboring Uganda during the preceding decades. As the president’s plane was
flying into Kigali, it was shot down around midnight. The official word was
that it was the rebels who shot down the plane, but to this day nobody knows.
Within minutes the Rwanda genocide began. Many tell me that it’s important to
say ‘within minutes,’ so people realize the genocide wasn’t a retaliation
against Tutsis for the assassination of the President, but rather a long
planned out event that was simply waiting for some kind of catalyst. The first
day 10,000 people were killed. The killings lasted for a hundred days. It seems
like such a short time, but it was long enough for the seasons to change. Long
enough for the rest of the world to turn its back. It was long enough for one
million people to be slaughtered.
When the Rwanda Patriotic Front (the current ruling party)
took control of Kigali on July 4th, the city was destroyed. 2/3 of
the population was displaced, with many Hutus taking refuge in neighboring
Congo (then known as Zaire). When the RPF crossed into the Congo, mass
atrocities ensued, leading to the Congolese Wars, which are still going on to
this day. Since their start, over 6 million people have been killed. The
Rwandans say that after God created the world and rested on the seventh day, he
chose to sleep on the shores of Lake Kivu, because he viewed it as his most
beautiful creation. It’s hard to disagree, Rwanda is one of the most beautiful
countries on Earth, but during those 100 days in 1994, it’s hard to believe
that God was thinking of Rwanda at all.
On April 14th, Miranda and I attended a memorial
service at Nyarubuye church, the scene of one of the most horrific atrocities.
The ceremony began with a mass, and lasted a few hours as different speakers
(and a few singers) got up to give their remarks. During the service, they also
took the time to reopen the mass grave (which holds over 20,000 bodies) in
order to bury the 12 new bodies that were found this year. They are still
finding bodies. Rwandans, who are normally
composed to the point of seeming numb, began to break down. Men and women were
crying, some had to be escorted out. It was a jarring sight. After the ceremony
Miranda and I went to a local bar to have a beer and talk about what happened.
I was feeling fine and returned home only to find the power was out and I was
alone. I turned on my computer to watch a movie, and as I was flipping through
the various films, something convinced me to turn on the Frontline documentary
I have about the atrocity at Nyarubuye. The film shows home video of the RPF
visiting the church as they advanced towards Kigali. Lying at the feet of the
Jesus statue that adorns the church was the body of a young boy, still wearing
his khaki school uniform. His face had been bludgeoned in. It was a surreal
sight, especially after having been to the church earlier. At that moment I received
a phone call from home, and I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.
A fellow PCV and I had a long talk about serving in Rwanda.
The country has a unique history, to say the least. And even though the
genocide occurred 19 years ago, there’s no denying the effect it still has on
the country. Today the country is stable, but with unrest in the Congo, and
stories of rebels committing rape and murder, even out here in Rusumo!, it’s
enough to make one on edge.
And sometimes you need to take the edge off!
The day after attending the Nyarubuye memorial I was a mess.
I was depressed, unhappy with Peace Corps, unhappy with Rwanda, unhappy with
almost everything and desperately needing a vacation. Luckily, some friends and
I had one planned, and not a moment too soon! That Monday I took a bus to
Kigali to meet up with some friends, and then we went north to spend the night
with some fellow PCVs. It’s always fun to visit other volunteers, and I usually
end up being thankful I don’t have to take the awful motorcycle rides that a
lot of my colleagues end up having to take to their sites. Motos+rocky
roads+steep cliffs do not make for a fun journey! After some beers and cooking
by candlelight, we went to bed and woke early the next morning, ready to cross
into Uganda. Though the two countries share a border, they are a world apart.
Uganda is more relaxed, the people seem a little friendlier, and…did I mention
they speak English? (In a small note of defense to Rwanda, Uganda was way
dirtier and made me realize that Kigali is a freakishly clean city)
The first few days were spent on Lake Bunyonyi, a beautiful
lake full of small islands and surrounded by terraced mountainsides. The
pictures I took are really nice, but as always, dwarfed by the reality of the
place. To get to the hostel we had to take a dugout canoe, which proved a lot
more difficult to paddle than I was expecting. By the time we arrived, we were
exhausted and famished, and lucky for us, the hostel had an amazing restaurant
with a menu full of fresh seafood dishes. Also, it was incredibly cheap which
is pretty amazing considering we were on an island with nowhere to go! During
the night we slept in a geodome, which is like a giant bamboo hut that opened
up to a deck overlooking the lake. It was truly paradise. The high elevation
meant incredibly cold nights, but the hostel was prepared with thick blankets
(and luckily we all had our sleeping bags!).
After enjoying a little slice of heaven, we boarded the Post
Bus (literally the bus that delivers the Post!) and began the long and arduous
trek to Kampala. Nine hours on bad roads made for a few crabby passengers, and
lucky for Kampala it has fast food. We stumbled into the nearest burger joint
and were soon refueled and excited. We slept in an old soap factory turned
hotel, and the next morning woke early to head for Jinja, to go rafting on the
headwaters of the Nile River.
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| Rafting the Nile |
The whitewater rafting was truly the highlight of the trip.
Even someone as terrified as me (I said go easy while everyone else in my group was begging for wild and
crazy), I have to admit that it was
terrifying and fun and I loved every minute of it.
Of course my incredibly burnt kneecaps might ask me to say
otherwise.
We took the night bus back, which of course was not without
problems, but we finally made it back to Kigali Monday morning. The vacation
definitely helped to lift my spirits, and made me excited to get back to site,
something which I would have never though possible a week earlier.
Since my return, things have been going really well. There
is a new group of interns at the Health Center, and they are a lot of fun and
seem interested in working with me. All of my time working in the Family
Planning clinic paid off as I assisted one of the nurses with a Community
Health Worker training on family planning. My biggest contribution was the
always-important condom demonstration, and lucky for me my health center
doesn’t have one of those wimpy wooden dildos. Someone, somewhere, managed to
get a giant, black, veiny, rubbery one that made for a very complicated and yet
very funny demonstration!
So I’m feeling good, and counting down the days to my year
anniversary here in Rwanda (May 10th)!!
