“Today” we went to the Kigali Genocide Memorial, the biggest mass grave in Rwanda with over 250,000 victims buried there. We first bypassed the building and went into a beautiful garden. Walking under canopies surrounded by giant cement slabs and beautiful plants and flowers. Almost like a reminder of those who died while still honoring their life and creating new life around it. We enter the memorial center and it starts the history of the Rwanda genocide. Although the 100 days of killing in April 1994 is the “climax” of Rwanda’s genocide story, it’s scary to know that this genocide (and all others) was the result of a very intentional plan. The groups of Hutu and Tutsi didn’t even exist until the Belgians gave them those labels and ID cards based off of how many cows someone I find the trivial differences between the groups even more scary because it’s clear that for YEARS Rwandans were pretty much brainwashed against each other. From what I understand, during the colonial time, Tutsis were more of the upper class (more cows) minority, while the Hutus were the working class, but had a huge majority in the population. After the Belgians left Rwanda, the Hutu had a\ lot of resentment for the Tutsi and once the Hutu president was assassinated (debatably by Hutu, Tutsi, or Belgians) the killing began immediately. The history of what led up to the genocide is equally as important as remembering those who died because it is the only way we can prevent this from happening again. Genocide isn’t spontaneous. It’s calculated and planned out. There were radio broadcasts and 10 Commandments for the Hutu establishing superiority and calling the Tutsi cockroaches. It’s a gradual dehumanization that allowed neighbors to turn on each other and it will frighten me everyday to know that it could be happening anywhere without our knowledge. We automatically assume nothing like this could happen in America, but the further our country gets divided and the more I hear politicians subtle hate speech against homosexuals and our inability to find compromise in almost any situation. Of course, I’m not saying that America is a time bomb for genocide, but in a more intense division in an unstable environment like Rwanda’s was it would be ignorant to say it couldn’t happen anywhere else and that scares the crap outta me.
There was one display that spoke about the children who were orphaned with a giant photo of a group of children staring down at the center. At this point I needed a break. I didn’t have room to take in any more. I just sat there and let them stare at me. I wanted to remember their faces and after everything I had already seen I needed to just sit down and breathe (and cry..again). I looked into each child’s eyes and even though I was 3 years old when this happened I can’t help but feel responsible. These children are parentless and what they went through has will be part of them forever and the most fortunate people in the world didn’t step-in to help. When they needed us most, the UN said “yes, there is major killing and they need help” while pulling out troops and turning their backs on these children and their country. I’m ashamed and horrified that the entire world stood by and did nothing while this girl with deep brown eyes watched her parents be killed and carrying a baby on her back. The 3rd section of the center was dedicated to the memories of the children who died in the genocide. There was a large photo of a little girl named Ariane Umutoni. Looking into her eyes and then at the plaque that says
Ariane UMUTONI
Age: 4
Favourite food: Cake
Favourite drink: Milk
Enjoyed: Singing & Dancing
Behaviour: A neat little girl
Cause of death: Stabbed in her eyes and head
This room was filled with other pictures and mini-bios. Seeing the face of a baby who’s head was bashed against the wall was too much. This memorial was so beautifully made. I felt like I knew a little of who they were. Humanized their photos and I felt like it gave them a little more life.
The survivor wall was a big room with photographs hanging on clotheslines. It’s a live display because people can come in and take photos or add photos of their families. The photos gave a very short glimpse into the immense stories of those who are buried outside. I sat again and watched another video projected on the back wall of survivors talking about the loved ones they’d lost. A man was talking about how he and his mom were in hiding and there was almost no food left, only beans. His mom knew he didn’t really like beans so she somehow found him a passion fruit and the next day his mother was killed. He’ll always remember that passion fruit was the last meal he ever had with his mom. I thought about the lilikoi that grows in our backyard and my parents are very adamant about making lilikoi juice out of it. I don’t know why my mind went there, but I pictured the same situation and that lilikoi being the only thing we had to eat. I also couldn’t even remember what my last meal with my parents would be, but I know I would never be able to eat it again. What an ugly reminder of a tragic and traumatizing moment in his life. Clovis was sitting near me and saw me crying. He scooted over, touched my shoulder and said “sorry” I asked him why and all he said was “you have to be strong.” I’m constantly in awe of their courage and how strong survivors are. I would be a wreck.
After seeing more and more death, hatred, and the extent to which the murderers went to to cause the most amount of pain, it was easy to say that they were just evil people. After lunch, we spoke to Jim Waller, a researcher of the penetrator psychology. He spends all of his time in the Rwanda prisons, interviewing the worst of the worst of the murderers. It was important to have that talk with him because it reminded me of how dehumanizing anyone, even someone guilty of such horrific things, is counterproductive. Genocide is only possible because of the calculated dehumanization of the victims over time. By dehumanizing the perpetrators, we open the door for history to repeat itself. In a way, the perpetrators are a different type of victim. I don’t want to put them anywhere near the same level as the true victims and those who were tortured or have to live with the physical and emotional scars. It’s scary to think that the people who committed these horrendous acts are human the same as anyone else. We all have it in us somewhere, which is yet another heavy truth I have to remind myself of. These people were brainwashed and possessed by the devil. They have to live with what they’ve done, and they easily could have been born on the other side of it. Most of them didn’t have a choice. We talked about that gang mentality that we see in America and how most of them were teenagers who are proven to act on impulse and take advantage of any opportunity. I’d like to believe that human nature is to resist the opportunity to let the animal out and take without remorse, but when it comes down to it, we’re all made of the same stuff genetically. Those murderers are only 0.01% different than me, and it was the mob mentality that allowed it to get that far. It’s something I’m struggling to really believe, but I’m trying to forgive the human inside them. If a survivor can live next to them and forgive them, I should be able to too.
Afterwards we did a workshop with Mashirika. I filmed a lot less because I really needed that reflection to deal with all of these intense emotions of the last few days. Highlights were asking the difference between genocide and war, and exercises in how we carry burdens and the struggle to let it go. Then we went to Rosette’s for dinner which turned into one of the craziest dance parties. Can’t wait for them to take us out clubbing next week :)
Have you read Eli Weisel's speech, The Perils of Indifference? It's quite good and applicable to your thoughts on dehumanizing. I'm so proud of you!
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