How strange it is to come outside where the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and everything seems so peaceful. Being inside the memorial where I was surrounded by and immersed in information, pictures and videos of the genocide made it seem so real, but out here in this flower garden it seems a million years away and really just a dream that people have made movies about.

While inside I noticed a man with a huge and deep scar on his head. Was he a survivor of the genocide? Probably. Everyone in Rwanda is a survivor.

This memorial has 14 different mass graves with a total of about 2,500 people buried here. The outside of the memorial is beautiful: a flower garden, two fountains and a shaded sidewalk. The view of downtown is beautiful and the memorial is set in a quiet part of Kigali. Inside the memorial are 3 main sections. 1. A chronological walk through the memorial detailing events preceding and following the genocide. It's crazy to think that Hutus and Tutsis knew no difference between themselves before Europeans came in and favored the Tutsis. But what is a Tutsi when her history, culture, religion are identical to that of a Hutu? In this section there was a room of skulls and bones from many victims of killings. 2. There is also general information (actually fairly detailed) about other genocides in the world: Cambodia, Kosovo, the Holocaust, Balkans, and Rwanda. 3. The most heart/gut wrenching part for me was the memorial to the children. There were a dozen blown up photos with placards detailing the child's favorite food, drink, characteristics, last words, and lastly, how each one died. It was horrific.

I'm sitting in the sunny flower garden trying to process what I've just seen and read. It seems that signs of the genocide were so clear and yet humanitarian aid and the very people who could have stopped the on-coming massacre, pulled out, leaving Tutsis (who they'd favored) to fend for themselves against friends and neighbors who were being told (via hate radio) to kill Tutsis.
thoughtfully,
eh

The month of May is the holiday after the first term of school here in Uganda. Thankfully I'm a teacher so it means I get to take that holiday . This month Kristina (SALTer) and I have traveled/will be traveling together to Rwanda and then parts of Uganda. We have just completed our first week of travel during which we spent time exploring the city of Kigali, Rwanda. As we were traveling south I couldn't help but assume that Kigali would be very similar to Kampala: noisy, dirty, and in general just like an East African city. Boy was I wrong! When we arrived at the bus park of Kigali I was shocked at the organization of it all. The chaos was kept to a minimum. Then, as we moved around the city a bit more, I was very impressed with the cleanliness of it all. I should have known, considering the people at the border confiscated all plastic bags before entering Rwanda. The grass was neatly manicured and there were women sweeping the street all over the place. But of all these things there was one that surprised me the most. The fact that the cars in the city (and there were multitudes) all followed the road rules was absolutely shocking to me! In Kampala, when you step into the street, you run the risk of being "knocked" by a taxi, lorry, motorcycle, or bicycle. You literally take your life into your own hands when you try to cross the road. Cars are going any which way while bodas (motorcycle taxis) dodge between the cars. But in Kigali when you touch so much as your big toe to the white stripe of the zebra crossing, the cars halt and kindly wave you across. At first I was very confused, thinking maybe they were stopping to let a local dignitary cross. Or, I thought, they have seen the president and are stopping out of respect. But all of those thoughts were wrong. The cars were stopping for me! I really could hardly believe it. I started feeling like a movie star every time I attempted to cross the street. But, alas, I am back in Kampala where I realize I am no movie star and if I'm not careful I'll just be a pile of road kill (perhaps that seems a little dramatic but after Kigali, I think I'm suffering from culture shock)
Peace,
eh