I think it was at this point that I decided, I'm not taking another bus, I've done my share. So I changed my plans (was meant to go to Arusha in Tanzania, see Mount Kilimanjaro and then head to Dar es Salaam). But I decided, nope, from here I'm flying straight to Dar and spending the rest of my trip as a Zanzibar beach bum.
But of course the reason I'd gone to Rwanda was to learn more about the genocide. So, on my way to the airport, I asked the driver to take me to the Genocide memorial.
From when I'd first arrived in Rwanda, I realised just how clean and kinda sad the place is. I remember writing in my journal, if Ethiopia was a God-Zone, Rwanda feels more like a Ghost-Zone. It's like walking through town on a holiday (like Christmas day), the streets are empty and the wind is blowing and it just feels like someone who should be there isn't there.
I don't think I was prepared for how much going to the Genocide Memorial was going to affect me. I'd had a fabulous morning and was on my way to Tanzania, in my own head it was just a brief stop. OMW, I was soooo wrong.
When I first got the briefing, I was shocked to find out that just a couple of metres away was the mass graves, they have more than 259 000 people in them!
Oh, but that was just the beginning, as you go through the memorial, they have videos and images of of the genocide. I can't get the image of this one guy who was half-hanging from a cliff, I'd realised when I arrived that there are lots of mountains and cliffs in Rwanda, now I could just see the ghosts of all those people who died on those cliffs. But wait, it gets even worse, there's a room where they've stacked some of the bones, like skulls in one shelf, femurs in another and other bones in another, all for our viewing pleasure.
I think it was at this point that I started crying, they have some preserved clothes of people that died. There were these tiny shoes that looked like they belong to a child. There were also rosaries that were found on some of the bodies. I could just see someone praying hard and holding onto their rosary, but being killed anyway.
Then, as if it wasn't tragic enough, they have a room with pictures of victims. But not pictures of them dead, just ordinary *tag you on FB* type pictures. Girls smiling, families sitting at parks, just people living life. Those people could have just been me, my family or my friends. *More tears...!*
The worst part of the whole tour, was the section dedicated to the children. They had 3 rooms, showing some of the children that were killed. I walked into the first room, saw 3 of the first images and realized I couldn't actually take it, so I walked out. But half-way out the door I was like: 'You owe it to them to finish this tour, you have to do this.' I took a deep breath and went back in. Images of these beautiful, innocent little people were all over the walls. All of them are now dead, it took everything in me to get to the end.
As I was driving to the airport, I felt quesy and dumbfounded. The cruelty of human nature is incredible! I kept thinking, 2 million in 3 months. How does that happen?
Then when I was at the airport, once again I realised that everywhere you turn in Kigali, people are always cleaning. I know this will sound a bit weird, but it made me think of those movies about psychiatric wards where patients are constantly wiping away a stain, long after it's clean. But the memory keeps them wiping and trying to get it out...
No comments:
Post a Comment