Our flight out of Lusaka was uneventful, though a bit surprising to land in Zimbabwe really quickly before heading north to Nairobi and then over to Kigali. I was also a bit surprised to find a guy standing there with my name on it after making our way through passport control. I completely forgot that I arranged for airport pickup for our lodging at Heaven Hotel and Restaurant.
We only had a couple of days in Kigali, but there really was only one reason why I wanted to stop here. I teach about international intervention and humanitarian issues and the 1994 Rwandan Genocide is one of the case studies we use heavily in class. I wanted to see if my experiences visiting the country would alter the way I taught the course.
Just a short taxi ride away from our lodging was Genocide Memorial and museum. Clark and I went straight over after dropping off our bags. The museum was very well done, informational, and emotionally engaging. After going through the building you end up outside peering over a series of concrete slabs cut into the hillside. Though unassuming, these slabs mark the mass graves where over 250,000 people are now buried. As emotionally draining as this museum visit was, it paled in comparison to what I saw on the second day.
About 45 minutes outside of urbanized Kigali are the towns of Nyamata and Ntarama. Both were traditionally heavy Tutsi minority villages and consequently the sites of horrific massacres that took place at Catholic churches. Both sites have restrictions on pictures so I didn't take any. I don't think I would have anyway. I will describe what I saw and the stories I heard, but it is a bit graphic sooooooooooooo.......you have been warned. One can easily google the churches for official pictures.
The first stop was at the large church in Nyamata. About a week after the massacres started in April 1994, over 10,000 Rwandans took refuge inside and around the St. Francois-Xavier Catholic church in Nyamata. There was precedence to this as Tutsis found safety in the churches during similar attacks against them in 1992. They thought no one would harm them in a "house of God." When Hutu militias arrived, they threw grenades at the doors and inside the windows. The metal doors were twisted from the explosions and light seeps through the roof where there are holes from the shrapnel. Gunfire followed the grenades and the militiamen then used machetes and any other weapons at their disposal to kill off anyone in the church that survived the initial assault.
When you walk inside, the first thing the guide points out are the bullet and shrapnel holes in the ceiling, but your eyes immediately catch sight of the clothes. There was a musty smell from the piles and piles of dirty, blood soaked clothes that were seemingly everywhere, the floor, the pews, on the alter. I thought about all the Catholic churches I spent time in during my trip across Spain two summers ago. You couldn't help but be inspired by their beauty. Here in Nyamata, there is a machete lying on the alter, the stained glass windows are shattered, and the holy water font has been cracked from a grenade.
Behind the church is the mass grave and I was invited down into the crypt where to this day, they're still collecting bones. In all, there are 40,000 people here waiting to be buried. As you descend the steep stairs, you are confronted with rows and rows of skulls. After the initial shock of the sheer number, you inevitably start looking at them individually. It is then you realize that you don't need to be a forensic scientist to see how these people died. Bullet holes, machete marks, crushed craniums are all visible. The small skulls are obviously children.
I was next shown a casket that held the body of a 28 year old woman who was allegedly the last person killed. The militiamen subjected her to repeated sexual assaults and the used a sharpened stick to impale her through her body and out through her head. Her body was found like that and apparently this was not an isolated incident.
Despite the absolutely horrific nature of the stories and the sheer gravity of being in the spot where it happened, I held myself together pretty well. However, I was only halfway done with the visit as I had one more church to see.
The next stop was the Catholic church in Ntarama, where a similar tale emerged. 5,000 sought refuge at the church and were eventually slaughtered. The church here has a huge metal roof over the site preserving what is left of the church that is barely standing. The grenade attack by the Hutu militia weakened the walls and allowed the killers to get inside. This church is much smaller and consequently all of the clothes and materials left in the church are hanging from the rafters and the caskets filled with bones line the pews. The guide took me over to the alter where there were stacks of household items and even a big bag of beans. It was obvious the people arrived here bringing stuff they would need to survive a few weeks. All this was piled next to weapons used in the killing. I must admit, it was chilling to be in this church alone with a Rwandan guide as he picked up a machete to show me what the killers did. I was happy to drop the weapon and head outside to the fresh air, but we immediately went into another building, and it's here that I nearly lost it. The room, probably 25'x25', was a Sunday School for small children. The guide led me to a huge spot on the wall in the front of the room and very quietly told me it was the blood and brain stained spot where the babies and children were swung by their feet and smashed up against the wall. It was a bit much to handle and I didn't complain when we didn't linger.
I returned to the hotel thoroughly exhausted, but really glad I was able to see and experience those places. As horrible as they were, I couldn't help but notice the birds chirping and the laughter of kids playing in the schoolyards during recess just across the street from the massacre sites. According what I know about the genocide, Rwanda should be in shambles still. But the opposite is true. People are friendly, the streets are clean and safe, and everyone is eager to show a new Rwanda while openly acknowledging the past.
I can't say for sure how I will alter what I do in the classroom based upon my experiences here. I for sure want to include more on reconciliation efforts and the post genocide recovery, but at the bare minimum I want to frame the unit around the quote that I saw on a banner near the alter at Ntarama.
It reads:
"If you knew me and you really knew yourself, you would not have killed me."
Up next on our journey is a flight from Kigali to Dar Es Salaam in Tanzania. We will only be in Dar for one day and the we will catch the ferry over to Zanzibar. Unfortunately we only have a couple of days in this place, but hopefully we can catch a spice tour and run around the narrow alleys of Stone Town, with it's mixture of Arab, African, and European influences. Take care!
No comments:
Post a Comment