A Heavy Day

We began Tuesday with a visit to the Rwanda Genocide Memorial. We wanted to go during our trip, and Peter suggest we do it now. It's not a place for small children.

The memorial is a fitting and respectful tribute to the 1,000,000 men, women, and small children who were systematically killed in a period of just 100 days in the spring of 1994. The exhibits begins back in colonial times and traces the origin of the hatred that spilled out in the genocide. The site is also a mass grave, holding the remains of more than 250,000 of those killed. Mourners still come to the site to pay respects. The toughest part of the exhibit was the children's section. I noticed a few of the visitors wiping tears as they passed through this section. I can't say I escaped without shedding a few myself. Joe asked me how it's possible people could do this. I still don't have an answer.

One of the mass graves on the Memorial Centre site

The children's exhibit

The most interesting aspect of the genocide in Rwanda isn't the brutality. Other such human catastrophes share the cruelty and the numbers of those killed. What makes Rwanda different is the recovery they've made in just 17 years. They're back on their feet economically, the streets are safe, and national unity is a top priority. You can imagine what would happen to a country of this size (about the size of Vermont) with all of those deaths and the mass exodus of more than 2,000,000 refugees who were escaping for their lives or for fear of being retaliated against. But Rwanda isn't your usual country. They have a tremendous source of pride and are working hard to be the star of Africa. As for justice, there was simply no way to prosecute and jail all of those responsible. Instead of retribution, the court system promoted reconciliation by offering those accused the opportunity admit their crimes and seek forgiveness while still serving some time. With all of that violence, time will tell if this formula breaks the cycle that began hundreds of years ago. But they're off to a good start.

If you want to see what we saw, you can visit the Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre website.

In the afternoon, Peter took us to lunch at another authentic African restaurant. Good stuff! I really like African food. There are the usuals... beans and rice and potatoes and a lot of stew-like dishes to mix in. Then there's matoke, which is a banana that tastes like potato and is served either mashed or with vegetables. Yum. I think every culture has its tortilla. Some call it pita or whatever. Here it's kaunga, a thick bread that's grilled but is still slightly doughy. It's good. There's a lot of salads and fruit. It's a lot more normal than we thought it would be.

Lunch with Peter and Julius at African Bite

Yum

However, the restroom situation is NOT normal, but it's not what you might think. Many of the signs here are in French and many of the bathroom rules are different. At the restaurant, Maddie wandered into a restroom only to encounter a gentleman using a urinal. She exited in a panic. Can you IMAGINE the look on her face? She inquired where she should go with a restaurant employee who was standing nearby. He told her to go back in. "It's OK," he said. Apparently, unisex restrooms are not just on Ally McBeal. I walked up a few moments later, making sure she was OK. After a few moments, she emerged with extremely wide eyes and that uncontrollable Maddie smile. We laughed all the way back to the table. Only Maddie.

In the afternoon, we visited with Miles at the Home of Hope. It wasn't a very good visit. We were in a funk, partly from what we experienced at the memorial centre earlier in the day and partly because Miles wasn't in the mood for visiting with his new "muzungu" friends. (Muzungu is the local term for white folks... it means "confused person wandering about" in Swahili). We held him for a long while but he didn't want to play. He smiled once or twice, but for the most part, he was Mr. Serious. When it was time to go, we got to take him down the stairs and see where he and his little roommates live in the orphanage. That will be another story for another time.

A little discouraged, we departed back for the guest house. Tomorrow's another day.