World Wind Tour of Three Countries Part II

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  Kigali, Rwanda
Thursday, November 8, 2007

Hello everyone,
  So this is part two of my trip.  Just a word of warning.  If you are faint of heart or are not in the mood to read something depressing, you might want to skip this one for now.  But for me this leg of the trip had such a profound impact on me, I wanted to share it with others.  And I am really having such a phenomenial experience...
  After surviving the white water rafting experience, I left with the other IU student to join the second leg of our adventure.  One of the volunteers on the camp had told us all about his trip to Rwanda to see the sites/museam of the Rwandan genocide.  As a social studies educator I felt compelled to make a trip there as well.  Equipped with directions to the bus station, hotel reservations and four versions of currency (US, Kenyan shillings, Ugandan shillings, and Rwandan francs) we set off to Kigali, Rwanda.  Since I was nursing a serious headache we opted to stay in the capital of Uganda, Kampala, instead of taking the 3 am bus ride to Rwanda.  I would love to say Kampala was beautiful but I only saw a limited amount of the town.  At 7:00 in the morning we set off by bus.  Our friend told us it was only 8 hours - it ended up being 11:00.  And the roads in Eastern Africa are not that great.  That meant 11 hours of bumpy roads, the bus tipping back and forth.  I had no book and no IPOD so I had a lot of time to view the landscape and reflect about life.  We drove horizonally across Uganda, and the landscaped continually changed. In the east, Uganda looked like what I always visualize when I think of Africa (more so than where we are staying in Kenya).  The lands are flat, small grasses, blue skies, etc.  On the west the country is very mountainous.  It is really cool to see small sections of the land devoted to raising different crops.  Yet driving through the mountains was probably the second scariest moment of my experience in East Africa. 
  Nine hours into the trip we crossed the Rwandan border.  This required getting out of the bus, filling out the immigration card to leave the country, walking across another strip of no-man's land, and then going through immigration on the other side.  they also took all of our belongings out of the bus and we had to show the contents before entering again.  Then we were off again, headed to the capital city.
  From the moment I entered the country I was constantly aware of the impact of the 1994 genocide on the country. Do not get me wrong - the country is beautiful and realitively safe right now. Yet I personally was preoccupied with this event.  Along the road you would see a cementary or mass grave with a sign saying "We will remember you."  As I looked out of the window I tried to wrap my head around this event.  I could not understand how people living amongst each other could brutally kill someone.  I thought about the fact that this happened in my life-time, remembering watching a small story about it on Channel One during my junior year in high school. Although I have read a small account of the event, and seen Hotel Rwanda, I was trying to understand, what led up to the event and how the region feels about it now, only 13 years later.  And I can not understand why no one was talking about it then, and very few people are talking about it now.
  Our plan was to stay in the Hotel de Milles Collines - the hotel that Hotel Rwanda is based on - and then visit the museam/sites the next day.  The hotel was amazing (and I probably spent too much on food and luxury).  The top of the hotel has a restaurant with a panoramic view of the city.  Kigali was one of the prettiest places I have ever been.  It is nestled in a valley and surrounded by mountains.  As I sat enjoying my first Western meal in two weeks and enjoying this view, I could not stop wondering how this happens.  The city is huge.  I just could not wrap my mind around how  1 million people could be killed in less than three weeks. And here I was pondering these questions while staying in a luxurious hotel. I really realized how lucky I am in life.
  The next morning we went to the genocide museam.  The tour starts with some of the initial descriptions about Belgium and French colonial occupation of the land.  It tells how the Hutus and Tutsis lived together peacefully for years until western nations started to classify them as a distinct race on their own terms.  Then each colonial power favored one over the other setting the stage for racial tension and conflict.  At first I was learning a lot but wondering how me, the most emotional person in the world, was not more effected.  Then you enter a camber that tells what happened. It is just hard for me to imagine the horrers that these people went through.  Mothers forced to kill their own children.  People killed with machetes or stoned to death.  People buried alive or forced into latrines before being trampled to death.  Women being raped by men with AIDs - so if they live they live a horrible life.  And I can not believe we (and who knows who we is or should be) did nothing.  Throughout the museam there are moniters where you can hear stories from survivors.  There was also a wall devoted to the lost children.  It would tell their favorite sport and show, and then at the end tell how they were killed. 
  When I was in Washington, D.C. I was able to spend about 45 minutes in the Holocaust museam.  When I was there I remember one room that truly impacted me.  It was a room filled with nothing but old shoes.  The smell of death still hanging on the materials made me want to throw up.  There was a room in this museam that had almost the same effect.  You enter a large room with 4-5 triangular cubbie holes.  The walls are black. The only things in the room are 1,000's of photographs of the victims.  I think my generation mourns for the victims of the Holocaust but it seems so removed.  The pictures we see are black and white and fill our history books.  These were colored pictures of weddings, birthdays, families, children... and this has not yet become part of our recognized history. I stood there trying to make sure that I looked at each picture, as if not looking at one would make their experience less valid.  And I thought I was going to pass out.  At the end of the tour there was a longer video of survivors.  They continued to talk about what their life is like now, and still there is no help being provided.  I can not imagine how this experience can physically and psychologically impact someone going through it.  There was a german man going through the museam with an African guide.  At one point I heard him ask the other man how he survived.  The man replied he hid in a hole.  Another visitor went into hysterics and had to lie down, as she almost passed out.  It was so profound to be there surrounded by the people that experienced it.  I just can not do justice in my description. 
  I will always remember this experience and feel that it has had a profound impact on me personally and professionally.  In the gift shop I saw a tee-shirt.  It said "We must remember our past (past crossed out and Rwanda written in red over it) in order to avoid mistakes in the present (present crossed out and the Darfur written over it).  The other amazing thing was that when we were safe in our luxurious hotel we started watching CNN - Africa.  The entire coverage was devoted to the fighting in the neighboring country, The Democratic Republic of Congo.  It seems the fighting there is the same thing - Hutu and Tutsi.  Apparently mass groups of men are raping women in the East and some documentary film makers are trying to bring awareness to the issue.  The newscaster stated that the neighboring country to the east (Rwanda) is worried that fighting will cross over the border effecting this region once again.  I do not understand why this is not in the news in the U.S. and am frustrated with my own ignorance of the issue. It makes me even more convenced that my place is in social studies education.  I hope to make in impact in some way to help schools bring more awareness to these issues within social studies instruction.  But it makes me wonder also, if I need to be in the schools myself helping to spread this message.  I apologize to all who are reading this, for completely depressing you.  I hope you can tell how much this meant to me by my dedication to writing about it.
  After another great meal and a good nights' sleep we were off again.  I am truly grateful to have had this experience.  I am also extremely proud of myself.  I navigated my way through three different countries, hotels, currencies, and borders (well, with the help of one other).  I braved the rapids of the Nile.  I faced my own unawareness of an important issue.  After days of travel I was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted.  Yet I have no regrets nor complaints.  It was good to get back to the farm.  It made me feel like I am finally accostumed to the routines here in Kenya.
  I miss you all and wish you were here to share things with.  I hope everything is going well in the states.  Thank you all for your great messages and words of support.

Sarah 

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