A little Farewell… for now ;)

Well, I’m back in America and I must say these first initial days have been quite the adjustment. I remember Drew mentioning three weeks in Rwanda is the equivalent to months away somewhere else, and I have to agree. I haven’t ever had such a rough time transitioning back into my regular life. My long and grueling adjustment back to an American sleep pattern was my own fault, but that has been the least of my worries. My concerns have just been about getting back into the western way of thinking, more so, the western way of consuming. I’m constantly reminded of all the things we do that are harmful, and all the things we waste without any care. It’s alarming. It’s frustrating. And sometimes, it just pisses me off completely. But I’ve had to take a step back, it isn’t fair for me to subject everyone else to the same mindset and it isn’t right for me to be angry with someone who hasn’t had the same experience. I spoke with my good friend Danielle last night, who volunteers summers in Poland to help abused orphans, and it was such a meaningful conversation for me. Being able to talk to someone about similar heart wrenching and beautiful experiences is just what I needed during this phase. I can talk someone blue in the face about their wasteful consumption or their ignorant attitudes but I think sometimes it’s just best to leave them be. And I’m not sure if that’s the right idea either. Suggestions are one thing, but people are stubborn. Is it best to leave someone in their own little bubble? Even though that bubble is floating around, affecting everyone else? I’m not completely sure. But, as Danielle said, if I can impact one person then that is enough. Whether it is a child in Rwanda or a friend over here, being a positive change in someone’s life is an accomplishment in itself. I’m not going to change the world, but changing one person is enough.

I think it’s alarming I walked right into the controversy of American Sniper, and I think I pissed off quite a few people when I shared Seth Rogan’s tweet regarding the similarities between Inglorious Bastard’s Nazi movie premiere and American Sniper. Perhaps I’m just overly sensitive now, but I can’t help but to see the connection. Propaganda is a powerful thing – powerful more so when it goes around undetected. We can fight the obvious displays, using our egos to say we won’t be brainwashed but these little projects can be equally damaging in a way that we don’t even notice. I haven’t seen the film, but I’ve seen the reactions and it scares me. Some people have said that it’s those own people’s fault for generating hate from it, or that these people always had a predisposition to hate – but it’s still bringing the hate to the platform. Maybe I am ‘too soft’ now, but I just don’t see the allure of it all. I don’t think watching a man kill a bunch of people, deserving or not, entertainment. And I can’t imagine Rwandans would ever make a movie like this, I imagine their reactions – what? Why would we want to see that? The man suffered, his targets suffered, all victims to war and hate – why would we want to film that? People have said it gives an accurate glimpse into war, but I haven’t seen anyone really pitying the man for his sacrifice or feeling an urge to help those with PTSD – it’s mostly been all about ‘those f***ng Iraqis’ – ‘those savages.’ I’m around teenagers all the time in my job, and their reactions terrify me. Maybe if I wasn’t in a position to be around high school students I wouldn’t have such a disturbing view of the movie’s ramifications but I do, and it frightens me.

The use of language can be manipulated in so many ways; you control a language, you control a nation. I keep getting flashbacks of this one moment in the Kigali memorial center where one of the foreign paper examples used the words “Tribal Violence” to describe what was happening in Rwanda. Tribes?? What tribes? There weren’t any tribes in Rwanda. But you know, as an American reading this, the words tribal immediately distances you from the problem. These aren’t people with personalities and families – they’re savages and barbarians fighting over something you just can’t understand. Why bother helping them? They’re wild and untamed, there’s nothing we can do. They probably don’t understand love and compassion the way we Americans do, there is no way they’re able to think on the same level as us. Tribes will be tribes; violence will happen and oh well, that’s unfortunate. Those poor uneducated souls...

One word and your perception changes.

But, as I’ve mentioned throughout all of my blogs… Rwandans are the teachers. We should be learning from them on how to treat each other, how to love one another and how to forgive. I’m not exaggerating when I say that Rwanda has stolen my heart. I’ve been all over Europe and it has indeed been beautiful, but Rwanda’s entire world is beautiful. The people are what make it so incredible, their love and their understanding. Their dreams, their passions, their openness to the world. It makes me frustrated and sad when I hear the remarks and see the facial expressions from people when I told them I was going to Africa, or now that I’ve just returned. We're the ones who don’t understand, we’re the ones who need something to learn. We’ve taken the humanity out of our culture and replaced it with business and logistics. Rwanda is developing quickly and possibly may be the central IT hub of the entire continent. I hope they don’t fall victim to the same mistakes we have.

But, I’ll be there again. I’ll be there to witness this development and hopefully continue finding positives. I’ve met so many wonderful people and I’m hoping a career or volunteer opportunity will emerge by the time I graduate. If not, I’ve made contact with a Peace Corps recruiter. Rwanda has changed me, and I want to give back as much as it’s given me. I hope I find my way back, I’m determined to. I said in my first post that I felt fate brought me on this trip, and I feel that it is true. I feel a great urge to return.

I'm pleased to say that the fund for Pacifique's children has already reached $1,300! I cannot believe the amount of support that has come our way, I'm so excited to see what happens in the future. He is working on his new cultural center, and had his interview with CNN this morning! Cannot wait until it airs!!

This blogging requirement has been interesting. I’ve always wanted to document my traveling but I’ve never allotted enough time to do so. Being required to write about my time in Rwanda was very therapeutic and I’m glad I’ll be able to reflect on my time for years to come. It’s been an odd experience having my thoughts read publicly. I’m not one who shares my writing, I’ve never been given an opportunity… I’ve never seeked one either. There’s something unnerving about allowing others into your thoughts, making you feel naked and exposed. Especially given the time constraints, I’ve had to publish first drafts and hope they sounded alright, further adding to insecurity. What has been given was a raw emotional mess on screen and I hope that has moved you enough. I’m not sure how anyone felt reading these blogs, but I hope I was able to describe and emulate this wonderful experience. I think it’s an impossible task, but I hope I got close enough.

Tonight is our last night in Rwanda and I figured I should hammer out some entries about the last couple days of our stay. I’m very short on time so it’s going to be rather brief. Perhaps on my return I’ll be able to add more.

Saturday January 10

We went to two different markets and I purchased most of my souvenirs for other people, I think that’s the hardest part of traveling – trying to figure out what to buy for each person. I’m pretty happy with my purchases, I think I found fitting items for everyone. They were markets though, so we had to barter and the sellers were very excited to have a buyer so it was rather hectic and difficult to sift through different stalls. I spent quite a bit of money… hoping I didn’t get ripped off too much. Yvan warned us about mzungu prices and advised us to offer 1/3 of the asking price and barter up from there. I felt too uncomfortable bartering too much so I gave up quickly, but oh well. Hopefully I didn’t spend too much! The items are so beautiful though, I think they were all worth the prices I paid. I actually picked up my outfit today (1/15) that was requested and measured this day – my skirt and blazer! They’re awesome and specially made to your liking. Can’t wait to wear my new teacher swag. Beautiful fabrics. The women’s dresses here are so vibrant and stylish and now I see why – they personally have them made to their choosing and size!

The second market lost power – the sellers were showing their items via flashlight, quite an interesting way to shop. An even more awkward rejection when you decide you’re not buying anything. The power has been going out a lot here.

We visited Inema Art Studio and performed our play and also had a theatre workshop afterwards. It was our first time doing the workshop so it was nice to be able to finally experience what we’ve been chatting about for so long. I can definitely see myself doing some of the activities in my own classroom.

MR. CHIPS for dinner. Holy moly, me-oh-my! The crispiest fries and chicken I’ve ever had. Maybe because I haven’t been eating fried foods for three weeks, but deary me – this stuff was intense.

Sunday, January 11

Went to church at the Zion Temple. I haven’t been to church in probably a decade but I’ve wanted to go for years, so I’m glad I finally did – even if it took a trip across the ocean to do so. The beginner was awesome, they sang music as they waited for the Pastor, and I’m glad they posted the lyrics so I could attempt to sing in Kinyarwanda. Very fun, and dancing was encouraged. The pastor’s speech was passionate… others felt it was angry but I felt he was just very forward in his speaking. One of his points was “----“ The church was welcoming to us, they singled us out in a crowd of MANY. Maybe because we clearly stood out, or because they were previously told. But they had us stand up and they whole church said a prayer for our safe travels and joyous experience in Rwanda. They gave us translator headphones for the songs but I loved listening to them being sang live by everyone in Kinyarwanda. Very moving. Supposedly this service was filmed for international viewing so I guess I can add another TV broadcast to my list…right next to Steve Wilkos.

Returned to the markets and spent even more money… 30,000 frw… eesh. It’s ok. Just breathe. I saw these really awesome masks I wanted to buy, but they were hanging pretty far away. Yvan was with me so he was able to help me barter, and the seller and him kept mentioning to get both of them. I only wanted one, but I figured they were telling me I’d get a better deal for two so I bought both. It wasn’t until afterwards, outside of the dark market, that I realized one figurine had breasts and the other had a penis. Then, just in time, Drew said they’re fertility symbols. WOAH. And that touching them gives you good luck for conceiving. Oh boy. I was scared. Then, someone gave me a dove chocolate wrapper that told me to embrace love. THEN the hostel staff nicknamed me in Kinyarwanda as Keza …. Meaning pretty. Yep. I was quite nervous, I felt that a betrothal was in my near future. It’s been five days and I’m still single so let us all hope that I still have a couple years until this fate comes to fruition.
Monday January 12

We had our first teacher training and the group was fantastic. Rwandans are generally very quiet and polite, so we imagined these funky loud theatre games would be out of their comfort zone, and it’d be difficult to break them in. Nope. Not the case. They were wild – wilder than some of us! It was so much fun. I don’t think I’ll ever forget “Jibberish-Island” – hysterical. The teacher trainers are people who used to teach and now share their skills, so most of them are much older. But, they were still bouncing and shimmy-ing about. Such a cool group, and I hope to stay in close contact with them when I return.

I asked one of the teacher trainers for advice for a new teacher. He mentioned:
                      

- Build Relationships
                     

- Understand students’ backgrounds and differ ante
                     

- Self-reflect on yourself before teaching – do not let your own personal issues or negative emotions in your life impact your teaching

He was such a cool guy to talk to, he’s had so many jobs! Was in the military for awhile and started at age 12, worked in the media, taught and now trains teachers. He had such a lively and fun personality – but was still logical and concerning about how effective our work is. He’s one of those people that you’re happy to see in the teaching field.

SWEETS – I paid nearly $5 for Haribo. Go me! Go imported goods! $8 conditioner? OK!


Tuesday, January 13

Second day of teacher training. Had a lot of fun with them, and glad we got to spend two full days with them. The lesson plan we modeled after was about MLK’s speech and we had them read it out beforehand. Super cool to listen to Rwandans recite his famous speech, it was very meaningful. Afterwards we developed the abstract story of our created theme – Beatrice added a song she created “Amahoro, Amahoro, yeaaaa Amahoro” and it’s been stuck in my head for days! Great day – hot day, but well worth it. Talked to some more teachers, really hoping to stay in touch.

That night we watched “Finding Hillywood” and “We are All Rwandans” – great films. Abuub from the first film was with us! He was wonderful and shared some information with us after the film. I feel so grateful to keep meeting all of these significant and wonderful people. I can’t believe it. He’s recommended several films for me to watch, I never watch films unless they’re recommended so I’m looking forward to it!
Wednesday January 14

Visited Sina Gerard and they showed us many of their products. Their most well known is Akabanga – the super hot sauce they have here. I can barely use it, just one drop is enough to make my eyes water. Eeesh.

Sina’s entire enterprise is so cool, you can see his dedication in his work. And even more so, his dedication to the community. He created his own school for the local children and pays for all of their education (it’s a private school) and this school has scored exceptionally well on all the nation’s exams. It’s so moving when you see business leaders care about children and their education.

Sina plays music for his pigs. Yes. Music. He blasts music over the speakers because it makes them happier pigs. It’s so funny to see it happening, and I have some video footage of them seemingly wagging their tail or bopping their heads to the beat. Most are sleeping. But, it’s still really cool.

Then, we visited the Rebecca Davis Dance Studio. This is a program created by an American woman who saw the need to help street children years ago. As you can tell from my story about Pacifique, homeless children are an issue here. Her studio involves academic courses and the dancing bit is used only as a reward – if the students attended their classes that week. They’re very strict about this and it keeps the children focused and determined to attend their classes. Children who were interested and excited to dance for us were turned away when they were reminded they didn’t attend their classes. What an interesting concept. You can see how much these boys love the dancing – they range from very young to maybe 14 years old.

We performed our play for them after they danced. They had a lot of questions about for us (via translation), the first: “are there children like us in America?” What a sad question, and an even sadder answer when we had to admit that yes, we do have homeless children in America. They continued to ask about these children… here are the questions I can remember:

• Do they take drugs?
           

• Do they sniff glue? (Popular drug use in Rwanda)
           

• Do they sleep on cardboard like we do?
           

• Do they transit the children, like they do to us?
           

• Do the cops take them, like they do to us?
           

• Do the cops beat them, like they do to us?

The last question really hit hard. The boys were so interested in learning about these children who are experiencing similar struggles. After the questions, we had our theatre workshop with them and then we danced about to some music. Super fun, we had a few dance circles and it was so exciting to be a part of it. It’s hard to imagine that later that day they’d be sleeping on cardboard in the streets, they were so happy in that room. They look up to their dance instructors, I’m glad that they have them as role models in case they don’t have a role model elsewhere. You can see that the instructors genuinely care about these boys.


Thursday January 15

Today we went to the schools and worked with the children. So, we spent two days working with teacher trainers and now we actually got to go work in the classrooms. The teachers were getting involved with us and seemed to really like the games and skills we were teaching so I hope they do use some of them in their classrooms. The first class was the hardest, it was the kindergarten class, and it was difficult to keep them focused for the games – as the games main point is focus! It was still a lot of fun. We visited four classrooms.

We had lunch with the teachers and it was very different experience to anything I’ve ever had in the schools’ staff cafe back at home. First, they welcomed us individually and then a man gave a prayer and a 7-8 minute speech about God’s wisdom. After that, a woman took over and also spoke for a few minutes about God. Then she asked for testimonials of how God has helped others in the room. THEN after that, she asked for struggles that the group can pray for later in their individual prayers. I’ve never experienced something like that and it was so sweet to see these teachers caring about each other and interested in helping each other. Most teacher café’s involve complaining about the students or trivial matters- but these teachers gave me an entire different experience.

We had our final dinner at Zen – an oriental cuisine restaurant and it was delicious. A great farewell dinner. I haven’t tried much oriental dishes before so this was a first and it was yummy! Definitely need to try some places on my return to America and Rwanda

Very short and brief points but I felt I needed to get a final blog post in before beginning my long travels. Bon voyage! See you all very soon!

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated – I’ve been so busy here! But I’ll give a brief run through of a few days last week and will post more when I have time.

Thursday, January 8

We woke up super early and headed over to Azizi Life – a company that pairs visitors with families in a village to get a glimpse of what their daily life is like. It was such a cool experience – we split into two groups and I was with Drew, Tim and Rob. We were with a group of women, and boy do they work! I realized I’d make a horrible housewife here.

The first thing they did was dress me in appropriate clothing – my choice of fabric that they wrapped me in for a skirt and a head scarf. It was a pretty blue print that matched my blue shirt quite well : )

After that, we peeled cassava. I’ve never had cassava before coming to Rwanda but we eat it often – it’s a very starchy vegetable. The casing peeled off easily, it was relaxing to sit and peel the cassava. There were lots of children around us and the one girl – Joslyn would soon become my favorite. The home itself was similar to the ones I saw when passing through villages on the way to Akagera.  The women showed us their kitchen, which involved a small enclosed fire they would feed dry leaves into. They showed us how they cook the cassava, using a large wet banana leaf to cover them to keep them moist before putting the metal pot lit on it.

After that, we headed out to the fields. We cultivated their soil for quite some time and it was tough work – especially with the head scarf, I was so warm! I came across some potatoes on my way. I’m not sure if it’s because I was the only girl, or that I looked exhausted but they kept telling me to take a break. I shared my water with one of the women and she seemed really shocked by that. After we finished our plot, they gave us curved knives to cut down some of the long grass. It was interesting learning how to cut at the right angle, and what we did with the grass afterwards was the coolest part! We made our own head-pieces out of banana leaves and then carried the bundled grass on our heads!! I’ve been seeing so many women, in the city and country, carrying things on their heads and now I know how! I still wasn’t very good at it – I blame the curved spine ; ). We fed the neighbor’s pig with our grass. It shows how communal the villages are, they work for everyone’s benefit

Afterwards, we made the long trek to fetch water. We had lots of yellow jugs to carry with us and despite the women trying to keep the children at home, most of them followed us. We passed many houses and everyone was eager to greet each other – another thing that is so noticeably different about Rwanda and the USA, people here are so friendly and caring for one another. The other group was also getting water at the same time so we were all able to meet up. The women found a station of continuous water flow and we filled up many jugs. They only allowed me to carry one, and the children didn’t even want me carrying any! They kept trying to take it for me. The children are so willing to help.

We had lunch – a very large lunch. The guide served my plate and it was more than I could handle. I didn’t want to be rude and not finish my food so I was on a mission to eat everything on the plate. Two large pieces of cassava, sweet potato, half an avocado (can you imagine just having an avocado tree to eat from all the time? Mmm), beans and vegetables. The cassava is the hardest bit, it’s so starchy! I kept whispering to Tim to take my second piece. They brought out corn on the cob after a bit but I couldn’t bear to eat any. We had great conversations with them (via translation) and really got a feel for what their lives are like. You can see how happy they are, being able to be with friends and their children all day. They do a lot of tough work, but they do it together. They eventually asked what our favorite foods are and I said pineapple – which ended up being our dessert. I knew I had to take some because I mentioned it’s my favorite, but they didn’t notice my first piece so I had to take another piece. My tummy was about to explode! The food was delicious though, so it wasn’t hard to eat – just hard to digest after eating so much!


After lunch, the women taught us how to make jewelry. I was a walking food-coma so I made sure to sit on the benches, plus my back was starting to hurt from the lack of support. It was super cool seeing how they first make the materials. They strip a plant’s leaf (not sure what kind) until they have long pieces of white thread.  They do it with a long knife against a piece of wood or rock. Then, they dye these strings any color and use the strings to create jewelry. I made earrings, well I thought I was. They eventually made mine into a necklace and the two women helping me made earrings to match it. I’m glad because mine wasn’t nearly as detailed and nice as theirs were. It takes a lot of patience, a good eye and a strong thumb to make these items. They said I was good at it, that I don’t seem like a beginner but I think they were just being nice to me : ).  It took a long time, about 40 minutes, just to make my necklace. They sell for so cheap, I couldn’t believe how long it takes to make these items. The women often make them together, so I think its also a chance to have conversations with each other as well.

Afterwards they sang and did some dancing for/with us. The guide asked if, since we’re a theatre group, if we happen to have anything to perform for them as well? It was pretty funny, because we’ve been performing everywhere! So, of course we do! We performed for them and as usual, the favorite part was the ending when we sing “Mwaramutse!” It was a lot of fun performing for them. It was hard to leave, as we spent our entire day with them. I was especially sad to leave Joslynn – the little girl that was so funny. She was always jumping around and singing – getting the rest of the children involved. You can tell she’s the one that creates the most fun for everyone. Every time I saw her, she was either dancing around a group of children who were just standing (and eventually started dancing as well) or on the look-out for water bottles. I’m not sure why the children love water bottles so much, I know they make them into toys – attaching half of it to a stick and leading a skinny tire around with it. But the children, from all over, are always so excited to get empty water bottles. Joslyn was no different, she even hid a couple water bottles under her shirt – as if no one could see the large bumpy chest/stomach she newly developed. It was so funny, she was being so stealthy. I put my half-full water bottle on the ground during the dancing and I saw her bending backwards to get a side-eye glimpse of it often – to be sure it’s still there and no one else snagged it. By the end of my performance it was gone. She was hysterical.

Before leaving a women taught me how they carry their babies. I’ve been interested ever since coming here, the babies are always strapped to their backs. I didn’t understand how they were able to do so, I thought someone would have to hold the baby in place while they strapped it to them with fabric. Nope! She bent over half way and had the baby on her back, the baby knew well enough to hold on to her clothing as she tossed fabric over her back and then tied it in the front. I couldn’t believe it! I think I’d drop my baby if I did that. But then again, I’m afraid to even hold a baby in my arms. She asked if I wanted to try with her baby but I couldn’t do it, I was too afraid I’d mess up! Super cool to see it done though, and it’s such a normal way to carry babies here, even children carrying their little siblings do the same.

Friday, January 9

The next day we drove to Muhanga – Buffalo’s sister city. Drew has been visiting the city every year and this is where we donated the two cows. We met with the mayor, who actually stayed with us the entire day! It was great having her with us, and we met formally in a hall first where she sat with her panel and spoke with us (via translation). My favorite part was when she mentioned how open they are to having us return – to work in their schools. I’ve already decided I want to come back after graduation for 6months-1 year to work/volunteer in the schools so it was really awesome to hear how welcoming she is to having us come back. It was exactly what I needed to hear – that she wants us to consider returning to work in the schools.

Afterwards, we went to the house where the cows were being distributed. I was confused at this point, I thought we were just collecting the cows and then going to the appropriate homes. But, the cows came out and a man started singing and touching the cows with sticks – then I realized he was blessing the cows. The ceremony has started! There were a lot of people in the little area, and the cows were a bit nervous. One hit me lightly as he trotted about nervously. It was an interesting ceremony to watch, I just wish I was better prepared for it, knowing that the ceremony was happening. Everything was done in Kinyarwanda so I only was able to understand the bits that were translated. The mayor gave a small speech, at one point saying that this distribution is possible because of good governance. I think someone mentioned that the mayors of each place must spend days at a time within each village – sleeping there and meeting the people. The mayor is meant to be close with the people they serve, and to know them personally. I can’t say I know Byron Brown all that well. It was great to see her mixed in with the people, to enjoy the ceremony. We donated one cow to an older couple, and the other to a younger couple. The boy must’ve only been in his low 20s and was nervous to make his speech. It was super cool to listen to the singing and eventually they started dancing. I wish I would’ve gotten more involved in the dancing, and I tried to as best I could. I call it the bystander effect – being behind someone who isn’t involved and being influenced to not get involved. I really like the way they dance, lots of arms movements. The kids love to dance.
 

Afterwards, we met with the two families that have received donations from the previous groups. One was a cow, and the other was solar panels. The women initially lost the cow due to sickness, but received a new one and has learned how to keep the cow healthy (beforehand the cow’s excrement would mix into his food). The family with the solar panels was really neat. Since receiving solar panels, the village has been given electricity but the family still prefers the solar panels. Beforehand, once the sun went down there wasn’t any light. The use of the solar panels allowed the home to have light well beyond sun-down, and became a study space for the neighborhood students. It’s amazing, again, how much everyone cares for each other. The boy, in his speech, remarked that he will lend his cow when needed to sick families. The family with the solar panels didn’t keep this luxury to themselves, but opened their doors to anyone who wanted to visit and use their light. It’s so nice to see how communal the families are. The father was so excited to show us the electricity they’ve received, I couldn’t understand what he was explaining but I could see his smiling face and excited tone as he fiddled with the wirings of the ceiling light and radio. I should mention that “Call Me Maybe” was playing as we entered the house. Drew said that the family has really prospered since his last visit, that the house has become much more developed. It’s wonderful to see how appreciative the families are for the donations and seeing how well they are doing afterwards.

We visited Mama Arlene afterwards. This woman, from Pennslvania, has created (over years) an entire compound for children without families. Rwanda is trying to get rid of the word “orphanages” and I accidently called the children orphans to Mama Arlene who immediately told me they’re not orphans – that she is their Mama. It was so sweet to see how protective and loving she is over each child. We met with her teachers first and performed for them. She showed us around the school and I initially thought that might be the end of the tour – but then she brought us to the children and MANY buildings. There were fields to play in, crops growing, and different buildings for the children. It was like a mini-community. The children were ecstatic to meet us – all grabbing hands and giggling and dancing. We went into one building and had the children sit around her.

Mama Arlene is older, and has been doing this since 2006.  It must be wonderful for her, you can tell how much she adores children. As an older woman, I imagine her own children are all grown-up and this job must give her the chance to take care of children again – to always be a “mama” to a little boy and girl. My own mom loves kids and I can’t help but see her in this kind a work, as a woman who genuinely loves children and wants to help them. Part of this stems from my own concern about her grandma-napping my own children in the future, haha! Kidding. Kinda.
 


She had the children sing a song for us “You are my sunshine” and all the children knew it. We sang along and I started tearing up as I heard her voice singing along with all these little voices. It reminded me of my own grandmother who passed away when I was in highschool, it’s a song that always reminds me of her and how she’d sing it to me often. And here was this women taking on the role of mother for all these children and singing the same tune. Children who have no family, that only have her and their fellow orphans – this little family that came together and have to rely on each other. I can’t imagine how it must feel to be so little and to know so much pain and rejection. The song reminds me how much my grandmother loved me and I saw her in this woman, this woman expressing her appreciation and tenderness for these little ones. It made my heart swell with emotion, I really felt my grandmother there.

Afterwards Mama Arlene told the children to go find a mzungu and play. The children kept rotating among everyone but one little girl kept close to me. She loved to dance so she was my best buddy for the time and Mama Arlene told me she has a beautiful voice but the little girl was too shy to sing loud enough for me. We gave the children our donations and it was awesome to see them using them! Previously, they’d be distributed after we left but we were able to play with them.

One little boy, David the trouble-maker, took to the rugby ball immediately. At first he was just throwing it and guarding it from other children but I told him it was a rugby ball and he was so excited to learn what rugby is. He even had me follow him outside so I could teach him how to play. I did my best explaining it to this little 7 year old (I think) and he listened so intently and kept asking me to teach him more. It was so sweet and eventually more kids joined in. We moved to another building but David kept calling me from that building’s yard to come play with him. Again, he kept asking me if he was throwing the ball right and he was trying to teach the newcomers the right way. I had to leave at that moment and it has to be the most heartbreaking good-bye I’ve had with any of the children during this trip. Most of the time they’re so busy, excited or distracted to give a personal good-bye. He stopped running and just looked at me, and asked “Are you leaving us?” and his face dropped from excitement and determination to just rejection and sadness. I said yes and he asked when we would come back- tomorrow or next week? Earlier he asked me if I was sleeping over. You could just feel how much love these children craved and it broke my heart seeing his face drop like that. I know it wasn’t a huge rejection leaving him there but it felt like I was just adding more mistrust and insecurity in this already vulnerable little boy. He was a little trouble-maker, a boy who often couldn’t sit still in class and was always talking, but you can sense that he’s just trying to make a connection with someone. He had that eagerness in his eyes and the moment he took my hand to bring me into the yard, I could tell that eagerness was just to have someone love and want him.

I know Mama Arlene is giving him what she can, I can see that just from her immediate frustration when I used the words orphans. She’s a wonderful woman and I hope she can find a good place for little David.

So You Want to go to Rwanda?

The other day I met a young man, Pacifique, at the hostel and I’ve been meaning to write about it. He was visiting the hostel for the free internet and is a local Rwandan in Kigali. He asked me about my day and was really friendly, despite my quiet and stressed demeanor – this was after I visited the prisoner’s community camp and I was still shaken up about it.

Eventually we got into conversation about his amazing work. He is a survivor of the genocide and his family, like many others, suffered financially after the genocide. He had to resort to becoming a ‘street kid’ – begging for money and food. He couldn’t afford schooling and eventually looked for work to help his mother with money. He was working near a Canadian man who questioned why such a young boy was working and not in school. This Canadian man, after hearing his story, then decided to pay for the rest of Pacifique’s schooling. Pacifique still kept in close contact with his fellow street kids, often teaching and sharing what he learned in school. He mentioned that these kids became his brothers and sisters, always looking out for each other.

Now, Pacifique has graduated. He is an artist – but he doesn’t just sell his art for profit. He still has a great love and devotion for the children living on the streets and a large portion of his profits go to paying for these children’s education! He shared some of his documents with me that reviewed each child’s story and the costs of their schooling per year. Some children don’t have parents, have parents suffering from HIV, some suffering from extremely low-paying jobs or other heartbreaking stories. The children’s’ schooling is roughly $100-150 per year and he pays for nearly SIXTY children! Schooling is free for most Rwandan children, but not for the homeless children – the “street kids.” He shared that he faces a lot of difficulty, one year he didn’t sell enough artwork and had to promise the school’s he would eventually pay them back.

As if the schooling wasn’t enough, he actually just acquired a large space that will allow him to invite TWENTY of the children to live with him. You can see his determination and love for these kids, he is spending so much of his money just to keep them safe and to give them a chance at an education – a chance he was given by luck by that Canadian fellow. Some of the pictures he showed was a large holiday dinner he cooked for the children, even serving meat because they love meat so much. I can’t imagine how expensive it was! But, he was so excited to talk about how much he loves to cook for them – especially for the holidays. I remember another batch of pictures were of boys drumming and also a “Miss Rwanda” activity. The kids seem so delighted when they’re with him.

I could sense this love for the kids as soon as we started talking. He immediately wanted to show me pictures and videos of the kids. Not only does he help them with schooling, but he also runs a cultural center on his own. He teaches them dancing, music and art several times a week. This helps keeps the youth busy, as a life on the streets can often persuade them into dangerous hobbies, as we see in America as well. The skills the students learn aren’t just hobbies, but a way for the children to develop a talent that can help them provide for themselves. He creates free events where the children can perform their new talents and the audience is merely asked to donate. These donations further help the children. It gives them a sense of dignity and ownership at a young age, that they no longer need to beg for money or food – they can earn it on their own. I asked him to share the dancing video because it immediately captured my heart when he showed it to me. You can see how happy these children are. I’ve attached it below.

His cultural center, NIYO Cultural Center, has recently been given an NGO status, so he is able to ask for help. He asked if I plan on returning to Rwanda and I shared that I have been chatting with some people about some of the possible education programs I could apply to. He mentioned that with this NGO status he will be able to grant me a volunteer visa for 6 months-1 year. I’ve said it before, I feel really lucky to be in Rwanda – being sent in a way that makes me feel that I’m meant to be here right now. I wonder if this is where this pull is sending me. I’m not sure how helpful I can even be in his center though. I can graduate with my masters this December, but I’m wondering if I should wait until May… and do my master’s project in Rwanda. I’m not really sure what I do with a master’s project so this idea may not even make sense. Still, something to consider. I’d really love to come back.

Unfortunately, PayPal and GoFundMe aren’t accessible in Rwanda. I feel that people would want to donate to his center after hearing his story, I know I do. But, there isn’t an easy way to do so. A woman who joined us for a bit explained the extensive steps one has to go through to send money to Rwandan citizens. The easiest way is to have a trusted foreigner set up a PayPal/GoFundMe account and send the total money through the extensive steps regularly (this is what she does for the designer she helps). It’s frustrating to know that he’s being held back by such a trivial thing, because I really think (and hope) that people would be interested in donating. I mean, one entire school year is only $100 – even a donation of $25 would be helpful. Especially when you consider he’s paying for sixty children – some in secondary schools that cost much more than $100.

Oh… by the way, Pacifique is 23 years old.

Makes me feel like quite the failure! He has such a fascinating story and a huge heart. What other 23 year old in the world can say they fund education for 60 homeless children and have just purchased a space so 20 of them can finally have a home with him? He’s so committed to these kids and I hope I find time during my stay to visit his center. He’s a person that warms your heart. Despite the struggles he faces, he is dedicated to creating opportunities for children that wouldn’t have a chance without him. We need more Pacifiques in the world. I feel lucky to just have met someone as special as him.

I hope I can come back.

Since writing this blog, Pacifique and I have created a GoFundMe account. If you’re as touched as I was by his story, please consider donating. Any kind of donation will be appreciated. 
Here is the link: http://www.gofundme.com/jw5p24

Here is a video of the younger children at the center doing a traditional dance:

Community

January 7, 2014

Yesterday we had a visit to the all-male community camp of prisoners. It was quite a long ride and consisted of many hills. We were joined by their commissioner, the woman who checks up on the 32 community camps throughout the week. It was interesting to have her with us because I was able to see a huge difference between her and the correctional staff back in the United States.

I was really nervous entering the camp, every prisoner there is a criminal of the genocide. So, I was going to be meeting the very same people I’ve been talking about in my blog – the men who brutally murdered and raped the people of Rwanda twenty years ago. How can you possibly prepare for that? I forgot the exact number but I believe there are about 40 men there.

I’ve written about Rwanda’s will to forgive but I’ll describe their legal system for a little groundwork. You can imagine that after the genocide the country was rather chaotic and dysfunctional. There wasn’t much of a legal system to immediately ‘punish’ these murderers. Many fled to the Congo, but many are still in Rwanda. Through time they were convicted but the interesting part of their conviction is called ‘Gacaca’ – meaning grass trial. If the killers admitted to their crimes and asked for forgiveness, they were given a lighter sentence. This involved asking for forgiveness from the survivor – after admitting they murdered their family. This also involved disclosing the location of their bodies if known. This is a very different sentencing or legal system that we have back at home… it is much more personal and humane. It gives the perpetrator a chance to admit his guilt and gain back his humanity. I imagine it is quite difficult looking the survivor in the eye.. just as it was looking at their victim’s.

Carl once again shared a beautiful story on the way to the camp to give us a sense of the humanity of the killers. It’s easy to see them as one thing – a murderer, but we have to remember that every person is complex. It’s even more clear through that novel I’m reading- that we are all human and capable of both horrendous and wonderful deeds. As an English teacher, I come across many people who hate specific authors because of their questionable ideals. For example, hating Hemmingway because he is a sexist. They problem in that is that these people are exercising the same thinking that they are scolding the other about – seeing them in a one dimensional way. Hemmingway is a sexist, but he is also a great author. You’re proving a disservice to yourself on the work you’re missing out on because you refuse to see him as more than a sexist man…. just as you accuse him for seeing women one-dimensionally.  So, I found Carl’s story a powerful representation of fighting against this thinking. 

If anyone watched “Ghosts of Rwanda” they may remember the real footage of the mental hospital. Many Rwandans and foreigners fled to this hospital for safety, and the presence of foreigners kept the killers away from the hospital. When the UN arrived, the Rwandans were ecstatic – they were being saved. But, the UN came to save only the foreigners so they could fly them back to the safety of their home country. You can see one woman crying in the footage, trying to have someone take her baby so it won’t be murdered. The Rwandans knew the foreign presence was their only sense of protection – the presence of unarmed foreigners were enough to keep the killers at bay. And now, they are leaving. The Rwandans tried to explain and beg them to stay… but they all left. With the absence of these average foreigners, the militia attacked and killed all the peaceful Rwandans seeking shelter there. Except for two young girls who, again, were able to hide and fake death under dead bodies. Carl spoke at a university and one of the girls shared this story with him. She remembers one of the murderers entering the room after the attack and stated,
   “I can’t believe we killed them all.”
And the girl, recognizing his voice as a friend but still understanding his mission of killing her people, made the decision to announce her survival and deny his statement to say, “No, you didn’t.” What amazing bravery on her part, to give this seemingly heartless killer some stroke of humanity. It’s as if she didn’t want this old-friend turned murderer to have this on his conscience of murdering ‘them all’. Of course this proved problematic, what can these killers do with two young surviving girls? They can’t take them with them. The soldiers decided against killing the young girls and brought them water. The girls survived.

I felt this story really showed that even when one is blindly working in the name of evil, their humanity can still strike through. And even as a helpless, vulnerable girl – one can rise up and restore one man’s humanity. If even for a moment.

The community camp allows the men to serve their sentence through helping the community. They build bricks that help build Rwanda. They are not behind bars or locked in small rooms, they live in tents of tarp and are free to come and go as they please, including leaving the entire camp. There wasn’t a security checkpoint and the camp isn’t surrounded with barbwires. It’s all open, you wouldn’t even expect this place was for prisoners. The men can easily escape, but they don’t. They can just walk off the camp easily, but they don’t. The men are given 10 days a year to leave the camp and visit their families, and can even request more if they have a wedding or family business to attend to. The men aren’t treated as rats of society, but as men who need to grow back into humane people. I still cannot believe the lack of security. The neighborhood kids even filter into the camp because of how open it is, you can see them peeking around the tents to get a glimpse of these ‘mzungus.’ The commissioner also stated that the men are given leadership roles within their group, and it helps cut down on funding because they don’t have to hire as many officers to control the prison. It’s such a stark contrast to the way we treat prisoners in America. I wonder if Rwandans would be subject to the same ‘evil’ as the American students were in the Stanford Prison Experiment that I’m reading about. I don’t think it would because Rwandans don’t have the same idea of scolding and punishing criminals as we do.

t reminds me a lot of a story I was following. A young boy (I believe 14) in the early 1990s shot a woman in the face during a robbery in Florida and was sentenced to serve his time in an adult prison. Being a young boy subjected to an adult male prison, he became overly defensive and lashed out protectively. You can imagine how frightened he was. He was sentenced to solitary for a short time. Nearly 25 years later, he has been in solitary the majority of the time, and I believe the longest prisoner ever to remain in solitary. He has attempted suicide many times and cuts himself in BOREDOM (a prison counselor remarked many prisoners do this because of the lack of mental stimulation in solitary). He is only allowed out of his room 3x a week to shower under close supervision. His own victim, the woman, has been fighting tirelessly over YEARS to remove him from this horrible isolation. Even his victim is aware of this inhumane treatment. And then you wonder, if he is released how will he transition back into society? He’s been treated like the dirt of society, like a rabid animal. And the reasoning behind his solitary, similar to many other cases, are trivial and unjust – simple things like placing cardboard in front of your air-vent to direct the cold air can land you in solitary for months.  It’s disgusting. And yet, Africans are the savages? Are you kidding? Seeing their ‘prison’ and comparing it to our own is alarming. Very alarming. We punish the prisoners and strip their dignity. The Rwandans guide their prisoners and restore their humanity. People were so concerned about my safety when I told them I was going to Africa. We have such a distorted view of this entire continent, I think we’re the ones who should be answering questions.

So, riding into the camp… I had to keep this in mind. The men were all lined up when we arrived and I felt uncomfortable standing in front of this military position. We introduced ourselves (via translation) and we shared some questions. We were all standing together, I could reach out my arm and touch these men. I was able to look into the faces of men who killed and raped countless numbers of people. It was a powerful and uncomfortable feeling. I didn’t feel unsafe, but it was uncomfortable because they didn’t look like killers. Some faces were a bit scary, but most of the men had kind eyes and gentle facial expressions. One old man was hunched over and had his bottom lip protruding, as if in a constant stance of guilt. I remember he had his hand raised when Carl asked a question but another man was called on first. I announced that a man near me had an answer after the other man was done, but the man looked at me and immediately looked down. I’m not sure if he was ashamed of his answer or if it was too similar to the previous one.

The question Carl had was about how a group of killers were bribed with chickens by a family they were about to slaughter. His question was why this was possible. The previous man said that God interjected several times during the genocide. Another man mentioned that it was a way for the killers to return with something to their leaders – the chickens gave them an excuse for why they didn’t kill the family.

But it really struck my heart, it reminded me of shy students in class who are afraid to speak up and share their idea. He had that same sense of breaking eye contact and looking down that I experience so often when I ask students to share. It was as if I saw this broken child in the body of this old man.

Nearly all of the men are happily married with children. I believe all the prisoners were farmers before the genocide. It seemed that every question we asked came down to the same thing – “don’t be like us.” I remember when one man said that, the entire group nodded their head. They shared their old fear of the government and their appreciation of it now – being given this chance of proving themselves good again. They asked us how we will share our story of Rwanda when we return, how will we show how Rwanda really is? They seemed to understand the negative connotation the country has and seemed intent on being sure we share that Rwanda is not just the mistakes they’ve made. So many people only see Rwanda as the location of a horrible genocide, and they seemed guilty and worrisome over this idea. They don’t want this beautiful country represented only in their faults. They also asked us to tell our prisoners to stop hurting each other. This was amazing. They even know how terrible our prison system is, and wish it had the same sense of brotherhood that they are given in this camp.  At the end, we took a photo with the men. It’s odd to look back and think of how I had my arms around the two men next to who’ve done such horrible things. They smiled when I put my arms around them, it didn’t feel like I was touching evil – it felt like I was with any regular person. I’m not sure if that’s right or not.

After the questioning the men did some kind of clapping to thank us. A man would call out something in Kinyarwanda and they’d do a clap (5 quick claps, 5 quick claps, 5 quick claps, 3 claps). They taught us how and we did it all together a few times. I had to jet off to the bathroom afterwards but could see them dancing from afar. I ran back over and they were chanting and singing a song, and they all started dancing around. And guess what!! THE COMISSIONER JOINED THEM. Yes, she started dancing with them. I tried dancing along with them as best I could and it was amazing. They were so happy and seemed so appreciative of life.

Who can go to an American prison and see convicts singing and dancing? And even if they do, who can see a warden joining in and laughing along with the convicts? What a beautiful sight to see. Rwandans care about Rwandans, and it’s beautiful to see that it holds true even in the lowest of places.

We were about to perform our play but it started down-pouring. The prisoners returned to their homes – the tented areas and we went into our own shelter. I was disappointed that we weren’t able to stay with the prisoners so we could continue our discussions but I saw the children hiding across the yard. It stopped raining as hard but we were still under the shelter so I asked our guide, Evan, if I could hang out with the kids and he said yes! So we meandered over and the kids giggled and ran away when they saw us approaching. Another girl on the trip, Molly, joined us. I chatted with the kids for a little, mainly just smiling and giving high-fives since we couldn’t converse much. I taught this one little boy, “Di-das,” a hand-shake and he loved it. The kids were so shy but excited, they would sneak around the poles and once we saw them they’d laugh and run away so I started chasing after them. Molly and I were running around the building chasing the kids as they darted about and giggled. It was awesome, much better than sitting around waiting for the rain to subside.

Eventually it was dry enough to perform but the rain started as soon as we began. It was pretty cool performing for the prisoners in the rain – quite the rush. I felt a lot more nervous as they were all so stoic – a big difference from the antsy smiling children the day before at the refugee camp. They were also a lot closer than the kids were, we were right on top of each other. The kids I was playing with were also watching from the nearby tree. The rain kept getting worse so the audience dwindled throughout and we didn’t get a chance to talk to them after the performance. We resorted back to our own tent and one of the prisoners brought over some corn on the cob they prepared for us as a thank-you, it was delicious and so sweet of them.

As I’ve said, there were PLENTY of hills on our journey, and the roads are just dirt in the country so the rain storm was making our driver nervous. We had to leave early in fear that the roads would be unmanageable if we waited too long. Well, they proved just as unmanageable even then. We got stuck right outside the camp! We had to get off the bus and Gaga (our driver) tried to get out of the mud. The children all swarmed about as we watched. The prisoners caught on to what was happening and came running with shovels to dig us out. They all went to work shoveling and expanded the road so Gaga could drive out. There were men in lines just digging in a synchronized fashion. I felt very uncomfortable during this entire time. I wanted to help. These men were slaving away as a group of young, healthy people just stood and stared. It made me really anxious.

So, I found my buddy and greeted him with our cool handshake. They had older kids with them who were obviously videotaping us and taking photos. I asked if they wanted a photo with me but didn’t understand and continued to take photos of just me. It’s really awkward when you see a camera just pointing at you taking pictures of just you. Reminds me of all the reasons why I shouldn’t be taking pictures of people here! I wanted to hang out with the kids some more and maybe sing some songs or dance or do something but no one else was interested in my group. So, I just hung out with the kiddos myself, who were doing similar things the kids in the refugee camp were doing – lots of touching my arms and giggling. I already miss my buddy, he loved the hand-shake!

The road was getting better, thanks to the men’s digging. We knew Gaga should get a good start and not stop the van once he goes so we started hiking up the hills to wherever he’d find flat land to stop and pick us up. I said goodbye to the prisoners and tried to thank each one on the way up – “murakoze cheyne” (thank you very much). I  felt so uncomfortable having them labor over us while we did nothing.

The men helped push the van and it was released from it’s mud of doom. But, was stuck again! They pushed and pushed and Gaga was able to get a good run, we saw the van zooming up the hills and one of the prisoners was hanging off the window from where he was pushing! The van reached us and we all boarded. I thanked the prisoner again, as he would have to walk all the way to the camp alone and came with the van just to reassure our safety.

Well, we were stuck again. We pushed along with his help and a few other prisoners came running up the hills. Once we were dislodged we had to board the van, but we did the clap as a thanks to them beforehand J.

These men seemed genuinely concerned about our safety and well-being, something you wouldn’t think of when you consider a mass-murderer. The commissioner even stated that the reason the children come around the camp because the men often share their food with them. The men, despite their terrible past, seem intent on becoming human again. It’s not the best analogy, but it reminds me of rescuing a dog. People always say that a rescue dog seems to love and appreciate their owner significantly more than a typical dog. These men seem to recognize they’ve been at their lowest and appreciate life that much more. A second chance. These men are seemingly excited to extend their help to others- even if it means sprinting up a hill to push a van of strangers out of mud.

Similar to the refugee camp, not everyone gets to see these parts. It’s not a tourist destination. I’m glad I was given this opportunity to see these men in person, it really represents humanity – forgiveness from some and dedicated rehabilitation for others.

It’s not until I sat down and wrote this blog that I was reminded that these men were criminals from the genocide. You’d never guess these men could commit the crimes, but it’s clear that they are willing to tell you. They don’t want to hide, they want the world to know they are guilty, but equally remorseful.

(I didn’t have internet to post so here are two days worth)

Today we went to Murambi to visit the memorial here. I don’t have much to say about the memorial because it made me very uncomfortable to view it. This memorial is quite controversial and I did try to stay open to it. The memorial is located within a school where victims were betrayed into thinking it was a safe place. The memorial has a mass grave of buried bodies, but the uncomfortable bit is the rooms of bodies that have been preserved with formaldehyde. There were several rooms where the bodies were laid out and I was only able to enter two of them before I just couldn’t bear to view any more. The chemical smell was overwhelming and the bodies were completely white from the chemical. They were preserved in the same position they were found, and that’s what was so difficult for me. Once I saw a woman on her side shielding her face in fear, combined with a giant dent in her skull, I just couldn’t manage to look at more bodies. Especially the children who were still cradled in their parent’s arms.

 

Part of the reason for these displays is because of the denial of the genocide. The bodies prove that these people did exist and the genocide did occur. I understand that, but I’m not sure what I’d prefer – to be put on display so others can be aware of my existence or to be put at peace in the mass grave. I’m not saying it’s right or wrong. Either way, I felt unwelcomed when I walked into those rooms. 

Daisy

January 5, 2014

We started off our day visiting some pups! Last week I let it slip (well, I always do…somehow) my insane obsession with dogs to our program director, Melissa. A few others also shared their love of the k9 and they decided a trip to “Wag” on our free morning was fitting. The main place was shut down because the owner is giving birth in America but we still got to see some foster dogs. May have wanted to adopt one and bring her home J… there is still time…

After the visit we went back to GEI headquarters and did some processing of the past few days. It was very relaxing, we meditated for 20 minutes first. It was special. I don’t give myself time to process or relax very often, and I realize how important it is  to give yourself this time to filter in everything. This trip has been very confusing emotionally and I’m grateful we’ve been given time to sort through it. It was interesting to hear about how others are taking in Rwanda because I’m all over the place. I can’t pinpoint my emotions here – it’s a ride of highs and lows.

Speaking of which, we visited the Gihembe refugee camp afterwards. I prepared myself for the worst – expecting to see sickly, damaged and crying people. That wasn’t the case. As I’ve mentioned before, the children are so excited to wave to us in our vans and visiting this camp was that…. x1000! The children surrounded the van and we had to slowly walk off it because they were so excited. The camp does not get visitors often, or at all. Drew had to go through quite a bit so we could be allowed inside. And even so, they only let us stay for an hour under close supervision. At first they weren’t even going to let us perform but they did eventually. They were very suspicious of our visit – of any visit by outsiders. We of course weren’t allowed to take pictures. My memory of it is very vivid and I hope it stays that way.

The children immediately jumped at the chance to touch us “mzungu” (white person in Kinyarwanda – not a negative term, just a descriptive term). They were fighting over who could hold my hand and were very protective of it when they were able to. They were rubbing my arms quite violently, some even pinching my skin. They were really interested in the whiteness. Some were even jumping to pet my blonde hair. Whenever I knelt down to talk to a little one they all swarmed my head to get a closer touch of this strange hair color. It was rather bizarre on my end, I’ve never received so much attention – especially in this gawking type of way. I had a cloud of little children everywhere I walked and sometimes I couldn’t even walk because there were so many around me jumping for a chance to touch me or talk to me. They were pretty shy once they did talk to me often asking for my name and either running away when I told them or giggling nervously when I asked for theirs. They were so happy when I (attempted to at least) said their name. The littlest children were the most shocked, I imagine we are the first white people they’ve ever seen. They would fight through the crowd somehow and just stop and stare with their mouths and eyes wide open. They would smile once I said hello but were just speechless. I remember I took a little girls hand and she shrieked in laughter and ran away and then just watched me from afar. We walked around a bit and this one little girl (maybe 6?) took hold of my hand and refused to let anyone else take it from her. She would scold and booty-bump anyone else away. As we were walking/dancing down the streets my hair would get in my face and I’d have to break our hand-holding to put it back behind my ear. She didn’t like this threat of losing the hand so she became my little hair stylist, watching for any hair in my face that she could tuck behind my ear. She’d jump up and gently stroke my hair, it was so sweet. She was initially nervous when I tried twirling her, I think because she thought I was trying to get rid of her but when she realized I was twirling her she loved it. She would giggle and sway and dance about. It was wonderful. I couldn’t speak much with the children because of their lack of English but we still had a lot of fun dancing through the streets. The streets weren’t paved and had many holes so it was pretty difficult on my end to balance with several children hanging on each arm or pulling on my shirt. A few times an adult came in and scolded the children for hanging on so much, I think they noticed some of the difficulty of walking. They were stumbling throughout as well but I think the excitement of seeing all of us was an adrenaline rush for them. A lot of the children had shaved heads and were quite dirty. I don’t think it’s a hygienic thing though, as they streets are dirt and I was pretty covered just from being there for an hour. The really tiny children had quite a bit of snot on their faces and I was wishing I brought some wipes, I’m not sure how appropriate that would be though. The children were the best part of the visit. I wish we could’ve stayed longer. You can tell they do not get visitors, and I feel bad that we were just a flicker in their lives

The little girl on my arm, though… what a little fireball. I mentioned her determination to stay on my right hand but she was so much fun too. I asked her what songs she knew and she started singing a song. I couldn’t catch on to most of it except the one part “Rombri-see Rombea-saw” and once she heard me singing she sang only that part with me. Eventually my whole little gaggle of children started singing just those words and it was probably the best experience of my life. I felt so happy to have made some kind of connection with these kids, and they seemed so excited to have me singing along with them. We sang those two words as we shimmied down the streets, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that memory.

We met Drew’s friend Clovis in the camp. Most of his family is still there but two siblings have been resettled in Florida. He invited us into his home and we met several relatives. They were all dressed so nicely and the mother seemed so excited to host us. It was very sweet.

We performed our play for the children. We all headed to the basketball court and each brought a large amount of people with us. We simply made a square and starting performing and eventually the crowd caught on and watched. My first ever theatre performance was in front of hills and hills of refugees in Rwanda, isn’t that amazing? It was really loud and I tried to speak up as much as I could. I forgot a small line but I don’t think the kids minded much! It was amazing seeing all of their eyes on us and I think they really appreciated us performing for us. I think our visit was nice for them, but adding in our performance and donations I think made it much more meaningful for them.

Most of them are Congolese, fleeing the violence and unrest in the Congo. Most of the children were born in the camp and don’t know any better. I feel so bad for these children who are growing up in a refugee camp. I know its better than the possible violence they’d face in the Congo, but I wish there was an easier way to be resettled elsewhere. As foreigners, they can’t work legally in Rwanda. It reminds me a lot of the people who are angry over the foreigners who work and “take our jobs” in America. But you have to consider the horrors they are fleeing from. You can imagine the parents don’t want their children living in these horrors.

Carl shared one of his own stories on the way to the camp and it gave me an idea of how terrible it is for the people living in the Congo. The Congo has become quite the hot-spot for minerals and it’s been swarmed with people trying to make money from it. The government is dysfunctional and hasn’t been able to control the people. I should also mention that after the genocide ended, many of the perpetrators fled to the Congo for safety against retaliation or court. Some (innocent) Hutus also fled in fear that the Tutsi would lash an equally violent attack on the Hutus as revenge. So, the Congo has many many problems, and I’m sure I’m only referring to the surface of them.

We met with UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees). I think they met us as a way to get an idea of why we were visiting – to be sure we had good intentions. I hope that after this visit they allow Drew’s future groups to stay longer in the camps. I’m glad we were able to have this personal interaction with them, it gave me an idea of how they’re trying to help these refugees. It was very businesslike and I felt that they really did appreciate our visit and interest in helping. There were two women and one man and our group sitting around a table and I felt so lucky to be able to chat with these important people. She mentioned some facts about the camp… this is what I remember:

There are about 15,000 people in the camp

The homes are 4x3 for an entire family. So, a family with seven children all have to live in this tiny home. They often all sleep in the same bed, which proves problematic because the children never get a sense of privacy or ownership.

They are only able to fund schooling for children up to “basic 9” which is similar to the rest of Rwanda. After grade 9, the education is no longer mandatory or free. This is also a problem because the children have a lot of free time and often get involved with extensive alcohol and/or sexual activity. One of the problems they face is how to keep the youth busy.

The only way out of the camp besides marriage of a foreigner is through resettlement. I’m glad the USA has been hosting most of the refugees. Out of the two camps she mentioned, thousands have been sent to safety in the US. About seven have been settled in Canada, and two in Finland.

Beforehand, the refugees were given food – often the same kind over the years. Now they have switched to a money system, so the people are able to buy the groceries of their choosing. Each person only gets $9.60 a month. I think this has its pros and cons… it gives the people a sense of dignity and ownership in a place where they little but it is still so low. And I wonder if they all use the money appropriately. I think it’s a better system than before, I’d hope that with such little money people will be influenced to make the right decision as to how to spend it.

The people get 14 liters of water a day – to bathe, cook and drink.

The camp suffers a similar culture of silence as we do in America. Women who suffer from rape in the camps often don’t speak about it because of the consequences they may face in the future. The woman said they are able to bring the perpetrator to court, but after release they are sent back to the camp. This could mean that the woman may even live next door to their rapist who they’ve convicted. You can imagine how frightening this may be for the woman. It’s bothering that around the world woman are facing these same issues of fear…

As you can imagine, the refugees are very happy when they get the chance to resettle. The woman mentioned that she gets phone calls of excitement – over things such as furniture or bedrooms. They’re so appreciative of these little things that we don’t even take notice of. Seeing the extreme opposite was unsettling, really makes you consider what you really need to spend your money on.

Carl and Drew mentioned a visit to a hospital and to a very specific doctor. This doctor specializes in a surgery on a woman’s bladder. The violence against women in the Congo is extreme, the women often become sex slaves. The women aren’t only penetrated with male parts, but with objects as well – and not gently. Many women suffer from an ailment (I wish I could remember the name!) that involves their bladder being punctured so they leak urine constantly. As if this isn’t enough, many of the women are shunned because of their smell and the idea that the Devil is represented in their suffering. This doctor has become a hero to these women. People from all over the world come to learn from him because he was become so well-practiced in this surgery because of the many, many cases- an average of 200 women… some staying for one month, some for a year depending on the severity. The women appreciate the doctor’s specialty and their chance at a new life. It seems that Carl had a similar reaction when he visited the hospital, the women were incredibly excited to have a visitor. They all came out to dance and sing for him, despite him saying it was not needed and that he was the one that was grateful for the visit. He started welling up as he told the story, and his voice especially cracked when he mentioned he saw an old woman, about 75 years old, come out and join the dancing. It’s sickening that young woman or middle-aged woman have suffered from this evil, but raping and brutalizing a gentle grandmother was especially upsetting. Carl came to find out that the song they were singing was an original – a song dedicated to the doctor and a celebration of his existence. It was a beautiful story, and it just continues to show me that these Congolese are just like the Rwandans in their strength. I expected to see broken and damaged people, but that has not been the case. I admire them so much. They’re able to find song and dance despite the cruelties served against them. Drew was right, this experience involves having your heart broken and fulfilled every day.

It makes you want to do more. I feel so grateful to have a secure and loving home. It makes me sick though. Why am I so lucky to have been born in a stable and safe environment? I could’ve easily been born in the Congo or in Rwanda and faced all of these horrors. I could’ve been raped, I could’ve been beaten. I could’ve starved, I could’ve been given HIV. I could’ve watched my family being murdered, or being forced to murder them myself. I could’ve survived and had to live with the memory of the cruelties. It makes me feel both grateful and disgusted for my luck of being a white American. How can I relate to these people? Even the color of my skin makes me an outsider. I want to do more, I want to help these people. But where do you even start in the Congo? I’ve been given a brief history and that is even full of complexities. It has to be a small movement to change, but people are dying everyday. What can I even do as one person? A person with little experience in anything relating to these extremes. I also feel that as a westerner we can sometimes do more damage than good. A person who is capable of making meaningful change must have a deep understanding of the history and culture at work, and as of right now I have neither. It’s something to consider for the future, if I can ever be someone who is able to help in a way that is welcome. 

Heart Break and Joy

The national memorial was intense. Wow. LOTS of information and even more tears on my end. Holy moly. I’ve done some prep before my trip to understand the genocide, but I was still an emotional mess throughout the whole thing. First we visited the gardens that involved several concrete slabs that served as mass graves for the many victims – estimated 250,000 bodies at this site alone. It was very quiet, the memorial rests on a hill so the breeze rustling through the trees is the only sound you can hear as you walk through the gardens. It was very peaceful. A group of Ugandans found me and asked me to take some photos with them. They were so excited to have pictures with me (it was an odd feeling for me) and it was a nice break from the quiet concentration and depression I was experiencing in the garden. I feel it was symbolic of this whole experience so far – that Rwandans faced this horrible genocide in the near past but yet they are now so incredibly happy and optimistic. I remember Drew warned me before going on this trip – prepare to have your heart broken and fulfilled everyday.

There are mass graves all over the city. But, they decided on this location for the memorial because it was the location that could host the largest amount of bodies. People are STILL digging up bodies in their yards. They hope to identify them through clothing or IDs in their pockets. Similar to the Holocaust, the perpetrators often burned any documentation when they killed. There aren’t many paper trials that prove an actual person ever existed. That an entire family ever existed. Can you imagine that? The world denies YOU existed – everything about you is destroyed. And yet, some people deny the genocide or the number of deaths. That is like killing someone twice. Taking away any stroke of existence they had.

Before the Belgians, Tutsi meant you had 10+ cows. A simple socioeconomic status. After the Belgians, it became a strictly ruled classification based on facial features. I cannot believe how a simple term constructed by modern people led to the death of thousands. The power of language is incredible.... in both extremes. I noticed in a copy of a foreign paper that stated “Eighty people killed in tribal violence” – the word tribal really struck me. As a foreign paper, read by foreigners, using the word “tribal” creates that same idea that sticks around Africa today to some – that Africa is full of savages and barbarians that are unlike any of us ‘wise’ westerners. It makes me sick. It distances us from them – that they are not like ‘us’ and it’s a simply tribal problem we shouldn’t involve ourselves with. Words are so powerful and so influential.

Another point that really affected me was the portion on women and children. Women were raped… often and often and OFTEN. I knew this beforehand but I didn’t know that Hutu women were also raped as punishment if they were married to Tutsi men. What is even more disturbing, is that men often passed on the HIV virus among others to the women. This is destructive on so many more levels – down to the biological. Not only do they wreck havoc on the woman emotionally and physically but leave any survivor with the disease to pass on to their children to destroy well beyond the rape.

Women were often forced to kill their own children before being killed themselves. I wonder if this is better than in the hands of a killer. It reminds me of a novel “Beloved” – where an escaped slave woman murders her children when they find her to ‘save’ them from the cruelties of slavers. I wonder if the women in this case would prefer to have their children pass away by the hands of love rather than by the hands of hatred. It’s so difficult to even imagine having to consider that idea.

The children section was nearly unbearable. It was difficult to even breathe because it was so horrific and upsetting. The museum posted pictures of these beautiful and happy young children and toddlers and listed things like their favorite food or toy… but ended it with how they were murdered. I can’t even explain how I felt during this part. It’s heart breaking. I remember seeing in the artifacts room superman bed sheets and little boy sweaters (maybe age 5?) with holes from where they were brutally stabbed…

On a lighter note, after the genocide (in 1997) a rebel entered a school and demanded the school children split into Tutsi and Hutu and the students refused because they knew his intentions. They stated, “All of us are Rwandans.” Unfortunately 6 died and 20 were wounded, but it demonstrates how much Rwanda has unified to stop this hatred. That was 3 years after the genocide, now its 20 years. There is so much to learn from Rwanda about forgiveness and strength.

The next day we visited Nyamata church. This was a safe haven for many decades where the Tutsi could hide when violence was taken against them. They always thought they would be safe in a church because Rwandans have great respect for God and religion. The militia attacked the church, but even when the people were being killed outside the church and their men were fighting against the killers- the women and children felt they were safe under the house of God. Yet, the killers went inside and slaughtered them all with machetes and clubs. Betrayal. You see the marks on the skulls and see the violence against them – split skills, missing noses, giant gaping holes, missing pieces… Seeing the skulls and realizing those are actual people with childhoods, and interests and skills was really moving. And yet they all look the same, you can’t tell who was Hutu or Tutsi.

I was in front of the group as we walked towards the church, but it didn’t look like a church – I thought it was just a welcoming center so I nearly walked right in and once I got to close I abruptly stopped, I felt an intense heaviness come over me that stopped me in my tracks and I realized I was walking into something that demanded great respect. Halting. Walking inside you see humps and humps of clothing all over the benches of the victims. I remember seeing a small boy’s shirt that said “Skate action.” It’s always the children items that affect me the most. So vulnerable and unknowing. And to imagine the parents that tried so hard and desperately to save them… and to realize they couldn’t give their own children the protection they needed is just heartbreaking.

The killing tools are so personal, it’s not distant with gunfire or gases – the killers could see their victims’ eyes or the children’s fear when they were taking their lives. I remember learning that’s why gassing became so popular during the Holocaust, not only because it was cheaper and more efficient, but for the German soldiers’ own sanity. Hitler realized the soldiers were getting emotional and upset over the tragedy of shooting their victims and seeing their bodies and knowing they’re the cause of the death. So, gas became a way to make it less personal. It also the shifted responsibility… not feeling morally responsible for killing their victims. The idea of the ‘gas vans’ during the Holocaust and how it demonstrated this – the boarder wasn’t responsible, he was just putting people in a van. The man who connected the van’s pipes to the chamber in the van wasn’t responsible, he was just connecting two pieces. The driver wasn’t responsible, he was just driving around the block. The logic behind it is just so disturbing. How people cope with their sins and excuse themselves from it...!

Unknowingly until the end, we had Vianney Ntez’ryayo, Pastor of Episcopal church, also touring with us. He was at the church when genocide was being practiced in 1992. He was there when the Italian woman who helped protect the Tutsi was murdered. He wasn’t in the church when they were killed everyone else, but was able to find shelter in the forest. He assumed his wife and four children were safe because they were in the church. It didn’t work anymore, they were all murdered. His oldest child was only five! We were standing by the mass grave behind the church, and this was when he shared his story (via translation). He mentioned that his children and wife were buried here and it was striking. To see someone and hear them say that just makes your heart stop. Since then he has remarried and has another 4 children, the oldest is 19. Hearing the story from one individual made it so much more realistic. There were thousands buried there and that is only the story of one relative to the victims.

This church is the location of the girl in “Ghosts of Rwanda,” where she hid under dead bodies to escape murder. I spoke to Drew and he mentioned that many children did the same, they hid under their dead parents body. He specifically mentioned one boy he knew there, who was six and hid under his parents and then trekked across Rwanda to find his sister and miraculously did. They both survived and unfortunately he died of stomach cancer recently. These parents were able to save their children beyond their own deaths with the last thing they could spare – their own bodies. The love and protection of these parents is incredible. I can’t imagine how these little ones were able to survive without someone taking care of them or feeding them. People like Carl must’ve been helping them and trying to transport needed resources to them in secret to keep them alive. It upsets me when I think of all the heroic stories of people that aren’t shared. There has to be many heroes that were doing wonderful things for others that eventually faced their own deaths and weren’t able to share their experience.

Carl led a group prayer of all of us after Vianney shared his heartbreaking story. It was our group and three additional people – one a pastor from New Hampshire, the translator and the survivor pastor. It was so beautiful, I couldn’t stop crying. I felt so helpless for what happened and felt so many emotions for this man that lost everything. Afterwards he mentioned he has already forgiven for what happened. He talks about it often but the same conclusion always comes to him – that we need peace in the world. Most would be vengeful or full of hate after his experience, but he forgave and is working towards a better world. It was wonderful to meet him. 

I’m not a religious person but the prayer was incredible. I felt so connected to it. Reminded me of when I witnessed the Monk chant in Italy and feeling that sense of heavy peace and connectedness to something universal. I think that’s what makes religion so powerful. The sense of connecting.

The next day we went on a safari. It was about 3 hours to get to Akagera, but the ride was well worth it! We drove through beautiful landscapes and got to see some of the communities in the rural areas of Rwanda. The children were especially memorable, they would be so excited to say hello and wave as we drove by. I remember this tiny TINY little girl charging down the road to try and catch up to the van and screaming excitedly to say hello. I’ve never seen houses quite like the ones out in the country. They were much smaller and some were coated with mud. You can clearly see how well connected they are with their neighbors, they were all hanging out with each other. I’m not sure how many utilities they had in their homes, they seemed very minimal. They didn’t seem in want though, they seemed very satisfied sitting and chatting with their neighbors outside. The children were having a blast. I keep seeing children chasing tires with a split water bottle on a stick all over the country. I saw quite a bit of water filling stations as well. I cannot believe how well they can carry baskets and buckets on their heads!!! I see it all over Rwanda and it’s amazing every time!! Another thing I love is the children J! Not only are they incredibly adorable, but the children are meant to walk everywhere as soon as they can walk. And when they carry them, it’s often in a wrap on a mother’s back and you see the baby casually bouncing along with her steps. It’s a lot different than in America where we constantly carry our children way past the time when they can handle themselves. It’s ‘squealing-type’ adorable when you see a little child walk or run around everywhere at such a young age! I wish I could take more pictures of how beautiful the children are here but I feel like such a creep photographing them. There’s just so much to admire here.

Before entering the park there was a group of maybe 5-6 boys trying to sell their little wooden creations. It seemed like a very poor area. The boys made lots of things – houses, dump trucks, safari cars… and they were EXTREMELY excited when we stopped our jeep. The one boy rushed to my window and kept shouting prices and showing me his dump truck. I bought it and it was only 500 Rfr… we all bought one and we had a little village of these wooden creations. They were very intricate, I know I couldn’t create one! Even the house had little rooms inside that you can only see if you open the door.

The safari was super rad. We had a quick night one on our arrival. We had really cool safari jeeps with open tops to venture out in. The drivers thought we were too tired to go at first but I’m glad we did. We saw THREE elephants that evening!! If anyone knows me well, they know I really love elephants! They were chopping away on some branches and there was a little baby one too. The one kept putting a branch on his head like a little hat J. So cool to see them in person, and only roughly 20 feet away… amazing! Makes it even more sickening to think of zoos and how limiting they are for animals. We got coated in dirt, especially the other jeep behind mine (lucky me, I was in the front jeep!!) they looked like they had horrible spray tans. The dirt here is a luscious color of blood-orange, and it contrasts so well against the vibrant green. Gosh, it was so beautiful. Taking a deep breath through the mouth, and filling my lungs with the fresh air was so fulfilling. I loved the safari. We saw quite a few baboons but those became very common… especially at our hotel. You have two options of staying while at the park: specific camping grounds or the hotels. The hotel was GORGEOUS! I remarked that it’s a place, along with the park of course, I want to return to for my honeymoon ;). After I find a husband of course…

But the BABOONS! Supposedly people keep feeding them so they lost their fear of humans and come VERY close to us now. They were walking all over the hotel and I could even hear them outside my hotel door! I wish I recorded them, it was quite frightening at first. The hotel even made a list of tips on how to behave around baboons. Dinner was delicious as usual… they may not eat as much meat as Americans do but its totally okay because their vegetables and fruits and prepared so well. Yum!

The next morning we went on a day safari. Boy, what a core workout of trying to stay balanced in the jeep! It was such a fun experience. We trekked from 7-3ish and saw lots of animals… tesabees, loads of baboons, pumbas J, buffalo, lots of zebras, water bucks, other sorts of bucks and a few giraffes. The giraffes were very far away and unreachable but it was still neat to see their silhouettes. It was such a beautiful day, one of the best times of my life.

I saw a lot more rural communities on the way home and it was just as touching as the ones on the way in. Seeing these communities really affected me. Drew mentioned that the Rwandans are very communal, but seeing it in person made a huge difference. When I read about the genocide, people often remarked about how it involved friends murdering friends. It made it so disturbing to know that communities that were so strong and close could crumble under the wrong kind of pressure. These communities are unlike anything I’ve seen in Buffalo, and yet they were still breakable. It’s really sad. If ‘evil’ was able to control and break down these strong bonds between neighbors and friends, what can it do in weaker societies like the ones we have in America? It’s such a sickening realization.

The movie “Sometimes in April” was recommended to watch and Drew and Eric mentioned that most of the actors were Rwandan. Before this trip I would’ve just thought – oh cool, good for them that they’re getting the profits and credits for the film’s success. But now, after participating in theatre, I realize how important it is for them to choose Rwandans. I always figured acting was mainly in accordance to the director’s idea but now I realize it’s much more personal than that- that you bring in your own personal emotions and understanding of the role. Hiring Rwandans is giving them a chance to bring their own personal experience into the movie, and share their story to the rest of the unknowing world. It becomes part of a healing process in itself.

I think this has been a very important trip as an English teacher. I’ve been learning, especially in graduate school, how important it is to give students a sense of ownership over their work. Allowing them to make choices and giving them the freedom to work on topics they are interested in. This entire trip is about storytelling and creating an environment to allow people to share their stories comfortably. As an English teacher, this is exactly what I need in my own classroom. I never would’ve felt comfortable using theatre activities to help students share their ideas or experiences but this trip is really coming together for me. I keep thinking back to my research over the past semester about how important and meaningful it was for students when they were able to share their stories/interests via digital media. Seeing a country cope with such tragedy through storytelling really enforces the idea of giving students the stage to share their own in Buffalo. I feel so lucky to have been given this opportunity to be here. 

So Soon!

Woohoo! My first blog post, of what I imagine will be one of the most exhilarating and meaningful experiences of my life. In exactly one week, I’ll be landing in Rwanda, Africa.

While others are planning their news years resolution, I’ll be on a fast track to start mine – a new insight on community and forgiveness, the powers underlying systemic evils, and how to effectively use storytelling and theatre to approach both of these issues.

So, theatre. I am not a theatre person. I spent this past summer in Italy teaching English under a company that prides itself on its “Theatrino” program (but you didn’t have to have a theatre background). However, I was working closely with an actor from Miami for the majority of the time, and I always felt second-best in my performance. He had an amazing amount of energy and worked so well with the kids – he was able to let loose and really become a kid himself. I thought it was just his special self, and I adapted a lot of his ‘tools’ for my future placements.

After recently attending a few rehearsals with this group, I realized that, although he of course is special, a lot of his talents of working with the kids were very similar to what I was seeing in these rehearsals. After my first rehearsal I remember speaking to Tamara about how much fun I had, and I was still on a high of excitement from it. I was nervous because I realized theatre isn’t about putting on a mask and faking it – it’s really about making the story your own; making it meaningful to yourself.  Which, although I was told this is easier, it felt much more daunting to me! Having to bring in my own personal ideas and feelings about the script felt very intrusive. As the sole education major with no theatre background, I felt my ideas were silly and unwanted. But I never got that reaction after sharing my ideas, the group has been so welcoming and encouraging towards me to open up. At first I was nervous as the only non-theatre student, but now I’m actually grateful for it! I think if there was another apprehensive student I would’ve felt more connected to them and would’ve held back because of our shared fears to perform. But, being ‘alone’ made it so much easier to force myself into acting, and to let loose with the rest of the gang. I’m feeling more confident about it! Dr. Paterson told me, a teacher is constantly acting. And I think this experience is going to do a lot for my teaching/performance ;)

As far as the history of Rwanda, I’m a bit ashamed that the only bits I knew about the country was from the movie – Hotel Rwanda. My history lessons were very minimal in regards to anything in Africa, and I can’t say the news has been all that informative either. I feel that our country generally considers Africa to be full of savages; we don’t ever hear about the beautiful or great strides they are making in several countries. The first remark I get about going to Rwanda has been about Ebola, even though I’m incredibly far from the outbreak…. Africa is massive… not a country, a continent! I’m hoping to get a better understanding of the country through this trip. It’s been amazing to read about it thus far. After the genocide in 1994, 70% of the population involved women. This meant women had to build up society again, in the midst of all the destruction. I find this amazing! Not only did the women have to maintain their motherly roles of the home, but they also had to fix a whole new nation. Even more so remarkable, the justice system was nonexistent after the massacre so many of the Hutu-extremists remained in Rwanda… even living next to the same people they tried to kill. This website provides a great perspective on this – the Tutsi survivors meeting, and forgiving, the Hutu perpetrators who’ve slaughtered their loved ones. It seems unfathomable, but beautiful. It’s so hard to even try to wrap my head around what that must feel like. It’s incredible what they have been able to do... to have the strength to move forward.

The power of influence is really interesting for me, and I’ve been reading a psychological book, The Lucifer Effect, which focuses on how “good people turn evil.” It was recommended to me after I visited the concentration camp, Sachsenhausen in Germany years ago. In addition to my lessons on African history, my lessons on the Holocaust were also rather questionable. Before visiting Germany, I was inclined to think that those Germans were simply ‘bad apples’ - that the water was temporality tainted and all the Germans lost their minds. That’s a problem. Why? Because that teaches us to think that atrocities and cruelty like genocide could never happen again – but yet it did, and it still does. I’m not sure if it’s because of the lack of resources or my own teachers’ avoidance of talking about such an emotional topic, but I think it’s important for students to understand the psychology, and overall history that goes on behind these horrific events - focusing purely on the terror creates just a superficial and distant attachment to what happened. It wasn’t until my visit that I learned that the majority of Germans did not support Hitler, and several of the consequences citizens and soldiers had to face which led to their questionable reactions. Similarly, there are reports from Hutu prisoners who claim that they didn’t want to take part in the killings but had to “in fear of being accused of complicity.” The reports go on to show that the Hutu were influenced to consider the Tutsi as enemies, as threats to their communities – even though they worked beside and befriended each other before. The use of dehumanizing the Jews and the Tutsi created a lack of emotional attachment or moral responsibility, and the added pressure to comply with authority’s demands in fear only worsened the situation. It’s been an interesting book so far and really looks into what forces influence people to act in cruel and incomprehensible ways. It doesn’t serve as an excuse, but I think it’s important to understand it. I don’t think its good to distant ourselves away from these events as if they’re isolated and incapable of being repeated… I think it’s best to understand so we can critique the questionable powers and pressures at work right now and do our best to operate against them. Even with recent events here in our own country, it’s getting pretty tense and it’s easy to fall into the role of passive bystander..

I also find it interesting that before colonization, the terms Hutu and Tutsi were merely associated with economic status- one could change between the terms over their lifetime. But, colonialists made specific definitions by measuring facial features to decide who is Hutu and who is Tutsi – it was a trivial term that spiraled into a way to segregate the population. These ‘new’ definitions created groundwork for genocide. The repeating idea of ‘separate but equal’ does anything but create harmony.

Quite a long post but being able to jot some of these ideas down is helping me synthesize everything. I’ve always tried to journal in all of my travels but I always ended up giving up - spending time doing other things rather than sitting down and writing about my day. I’m glad were asked to write because I think it’s going to be a really interesting experience and I think having some time to write about what I’ve experienced will help make sense of all the information I’ll be taking in!

Overall, I think it’s going to be a mind-opening experience in all kinds of ways. I cannot wait!