Last day in Uganda: Lunch with Boyetts. Successfully/accidentally locked myself in bathroom. Watched Madagascar. Packed. Ate a good meal. Jumped in a cab with Rachael, Josh, and a strange driver man.
Entebbe Airport: Huge long line. One hour delay. Loopy Rachael. Cranky Laura. Power outages. Very Africa.
Entebbe Flight: Watched Remember Me, got depressed, napped, watched Pocahontas, got considerably happier.
Amsterdam Airport: Followed Josh around. Bad move. More long lines. Rachael giggling uncontrollably.
Amsterdam Flight: Sat next to Rachael. Colored some pictures. Stared at an Ethiopian baby with HUUGE eyes. More uncontrollable laughter. I think at this point, ALL sense was gone...
Detroit Airport: OMG I CAN WEAR SHORTS NOW. MCDONALDS. AMERICA. AAAAHHHH.
Detroit Flight: Talked with a delightful man about his further delightful family. Kept making accidental references to Africa. Oops.
Atlanta Airport: Fought crowds to the baggage claim, where Grace was already leaning against a piece of my luggage.
With Grace: Listened to lots of loud music. Demanded to stop by Dairy Queen, where I finally got a blizzard. Had real salad for dinner. Wandered aimlessly around Target, amazed by its aroma. And now she's giving me more cooking lessons.
I plan on doing one more wrap up/this is what I learned blog, but considering the amount of sleep I'm running on, this will have to come in a week or so. America, however, is so far so good.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Bouncing on the Nile like Baby Moses
First order of business: I have not been bombed. I am, in fact, alive and uninjured. However, I am also in Kampala, the city where the bombs are. But we'll talk about this more later.
Let's go back to Sunday for a moment. I was kind of depressed, which is why that blog was short, but Sunday was definitely interesting. We went to the 7-hour-long ABIDE graduation, which was SEVEN HOURS LONG. Maybe you understand the message I'm trying to convey here. The great thing is--well, let's back up a second. On Saturday night, Rachael and I hung out with "mom and dad" in their room just for fun. We found a long-dead mouse in a computer bag and played dress-up with Kathy's closet. I decided that, just for kicks and giggles, I would wear Kathy's traditional Ugandan dress to the ceremony the next day. Fast forward back to that long ceremony I was just talking about. I was dressed in a long wrap skirt, poofy dress top, and large scarf/wrap thingy. I looked like a giant pink and gold cupcake. All the Americans laughed at me, but when we arrived at the ceremony, all my Ugandan friends gave me hugs and said, "Rora! You look SMART!" which means, "You are one smokin lady in that dress mmm-mmm!" The bigger the better here I suppose. Unfortunately it was VERY hot in that outfit and ants were crawling all up in my clothes. But in that time I read a book, wrote a card, and jounaled a lot. Seven hours. Seven.
Then I managed to break a poor Ugandan boy's heart. Rambo from Bible Baptist, who liked walking me home from church each Sunday, came to the house that evening wanting my picture. Then he didn't want to leave. It was really sad. He kept saying "I like you, I like you" and I kept saying "There are many nice girls in Uganda, many...I will pray you find one..." He was really sweet, but.....anyway....After he finally left I got a massive headache and missed the final World Cup game and was in an absolute haze as everyone was leaving and saying goodbye at 12:30 am.
Monday was really sad. Rachael and I actually had to say goodbye to Daddy Dale and Mama Kathy and there were some tears. I will dearly miss that family, they've meant more to me this summer than they know. We left with the ABIDE leaders for a long trip to Kampala around 11. This was after we heard about the bombs and watched some terrible footage on the news. Comforting, right? On the way up, some zebras crossed the road. First zebras I'd seen in Africa. We arrived at Red Chili guest house around seven, exhausted and covered in dust (gotta love dry season). Rachael and I went to the guest house's restaurant and waited an hour and a half for sandwiches. And we were extremely uncomfortable because there were so many white people in there--we felt really out of place and small. I'm turning into an African.
The next morning we woke up bright and early (I was slightly brighter and earlier than Rachael) to go white water rafting on the Nile. We hopped on the rafting company's bus, which came to pick us up at the guest house, and went on an hour and half ride to Jinja, the source of the Nile. Once again, we were surrounded by white people and I felt really out of place. The boys were bound and determined to do the "Wild" course, which was hilarious because we had three Ugandan guys with us who were not very accustomed to water. Oh my. We also had Laura Love, who is not in any way/shape/form a thrill seeker. Then we had Big J, our guide, who was not very sympathetic to anyone. On the first class 5 rapid we hit--yeah, that's the biggest class you can raft on short of death--one of our Ugandan guys and I went under. I was terrified out of my MIND. When both of us came up, he was laughing and I couldn't speak, which is funny because I'm the certified lifeguard and he's not a swimmer. On the second class five--the biggest rapid we hit--I opted to go on the safety boat because it wasn't supposed to tip. Nope, we went under. My thought right beforehand was "I would rather get a shot than do this"--and I hate shots. I have never been so scared....ever. I think I swallowed about a gallon of the Nile while trying to get air. When we went to lunch right after that, one of our Ugandan guys claimed that he had a headache. He found some guys to take him back to the bus and I tagged along (a chicken move, I know, but my heart was still pounding for a good thirty minutes after the last tip). Therefore, I spent the rest of the day with some Ugandans, had some really good conversation, and wasn't scared at all--except when we got chased by Ankole cows and I stepped knee deep in mud. I also tried my first jackfruit, which tasted like candy. When our rafting group finally got back, we found out that they hadn't tipped again all afternoon. Great.
That night Rachael had a great experience. I tease that she has the bladder the size of a walnut, and on the way back to Kampala she was desperate. The bus driver pulled over to the side of the road so people could "su-su" and she discovered that the Ugandan version of a rest stop equals squatting on the side of the road, no bushes, with cars whizzing by. Thank goodness I brought a skirt out to give her a bit of protection.
Today we left Red Chili and went to Matoke Inn, which is the AIM missions guest house. It feels a lot like a grandma's house and it's just nice to be able to sit and reflect. There were indeed three or four bombings in Kampala on Sunday and Monday, and we're just praying that they don't target the airport--that would be problematic. I'm planning on just staying in this house, so I'm not really worried about being involved in any violence while I'm here
Tomorrow we step on the plane, which I'm actually getting really sad about. I'm a little bit scared to go back to America because I've just started getting used to things here.
On the other hand, my promised bowls of cereal DO sound pretty nice.
Let's go back to Sunday for a moment. I was kind of depressed, which is why that blog was short, but Sunday was definitely interesting. We went to the 7-hour-long ABIDE graduation, which was SEVEN HOURS LONG. Maybe you understand the message I'm trying to convey here. The great thing is--well, let's back up a second. On Saturday night, Rachael and I hung out with "mom and dad" in their room just for fun. We found a long-dead mouse in a computer bag and played dress-up with Kathy's closet. I decided that, just for kicks and giggles, I would wear Kathy's traditional Ugandan dress to the ceremony the next day. Fast forward back to that long ceremony I was just talking about. I was dressed in a long wrap skirt, poofy dress top, and large scarf/wrap thingy. I looked like a giant pink and gold cupcake. All the Americans laughed at me, but when we arrived at the ceremony, all my Ugandan friends gave me hugs and said, "Rora! You look SMART!" which means, "You are one smokin lady in that dress mmm-mmm!" The bigger the better here I suppose. Unfortunately it was VERY hot in that outfit and ants were crawling all up in my clothes. But in that time I read a book, wrote a card, and jounaled a lot. Seven hours. Seven.
Then I managed to break a poor Ugandan boy's heart. Rambo from Bible Baptist, who liked walking me home from church each Sunday, came to the house that evening wanting my picture. Then he didn't want to leave. It was really sad. He kept saying "I like you, I like you" and I kept saying "There are many nice girls in Uganda, many...I will pray you find one..." He was really sweet, but.....anyway....After he finally left I got a massive headache and missed the final World Cup game and was in an absolute haze as everyone was leaving and saying goodbye at 12:30 am.
Monday was really sad. Rachael and I actually had to say goodbye to Daddy Dale and Mama Kathy and there were some tears. I will dearly miss that family, they've meant more to me this summer than they know. We left with the ABIDE leaders for a long trip to Kampala around 11. This was after we heard about the bombs and watched some terrible footage on the news. Comforting, right? On the way up, some zebras crossed the road. First zebras I'd seen in Africa. We arrived at Red Chili guest house around seven, exhausted and covered in dust (gotta love dry season). Rachael and I went to the guest house's restaurant and waited an hour and a half for sandwiches. And we were extremely uncomfortable because there were so many white people in there--we felt really out of place and small. I'm turning into an African.
The next morning we woke up bright and early (I was slightly brighter and earlier than Rachael) to go white water rafting on the Nile. We hopped on the rafting company's bus, which came to pick us up at the guest house, and went on an hour and half ride to Jinja, the source of the Nile. Once again, we were surrounded by white people and I felt really out of place. The boys were bound and determined to do the "Wild" course, which was hilarious because we had three Ugandan guys with us who were not very accustomed to water. Oh my. We also had Laura Love, who is not in any way/shape/form a thrill seeker. Then we had Big J, our guide, who was not very sympathetic to anyone. On the first class 5 rapid we hit--yeah, that's the biggest class you can raft on short of death--one of our Ugandan guys and I went under. I was terrified out of my MIND. When both of us came up, he was laughing and I couldn't speak, which is funny because I'm the certified lifeguard and he's not a swimmer. On the second class five--the biggest rapid we hit--I opted to go on the safety boat because it wasn't supposed to tip. Nope, we went under. My thought right beforehand was "I would rather get a shot than do this"--and I hate shots. I have never been so scared....ever. I think I swallowed about a gallon of the Nile while trying to get air. When we went to lunch right after that, one of our Ugandan guys claimed that he had a headache. He found some guys to take him back to the bus and I tagged along (a chicken move, I know, but my heart was still pounding for a good thirty minutes after the last tip). Therefore, I spent the rest of the day with some Ugandans, had some really good conversation, and wasn't scared at all--except when we got chased by Ankole cows and I stepped knee deep in mud. I also tried my first jackfruit, which tasted like candy. When our rafting group finally got back, we found out that they hadn't tipped again all afternoon. Great.
That night Rachael had a great experience. I tease that she has the bladder the size of a walnut, and on the way back to Kampala she was desperate. The bus driver pulled over to the side of the road so people could "su-su" and she discovered that the Ugandan version of a rest stop equals squatting on the side of the road, no bushes, with cars whizzing by. Thank goodness I brought a skirt out to give her a bit of protection.
Today we left Red Chili and went to Matoke Inn, which is the AIM missions guest house. It feels a lot like a grandma's house and it's just nice to be able to sit and reflect. There were indeed three or four bombings in Kampala on Sunday and Monday, and we're just praying that they don't target the airport--that would be problematic. I'm planning on just staying in this house, so I'm not really worried about being involved in any violence while I'm here
Tomorrow we step on the plane, which I'm actually getting really sad about. I'm a little bit scared to go back to America because I've just started getting used to things here.
On the other hand, my promised bowls of cereal DO sound pretty nice.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Osibe gye, Mbarara
Let's keep this short and sweet because it's kind of sad. Today is my last day in Mbarara. On Thursday I said goodbye to all the kids at Bible Baptist and on Friday I said goodbye to my kids at Nkokonjeru. Yesterday I said goodbye to the marketplace (thank heavens) and today I said goodbye to the GETS girls. Tomorrow I will say goodbye to my family here--Daddy Dale and Mama Kathy and my little brothers--and I'm not sure how I'll keep it together then. Then again, I'll also say goodbye to all our rodents.
Tomorrow we're heading to Kampala (the capital city). On Tuesday we'll be rafting the Nile. Then we'll step onto the plane on Thursday.
At least I'll still have Rachael.
Tomorrow we're heading to Kampala (the capital city). On Tuesday we'll be rafting the Nile. Then we'll step onto the plane on Thursday.
At least I'll still have Rachael.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
It's Almost Time
It's kind of hard to believe that there are only eight days left for me in Uganda. On July 15th, I will be stepping on a plane and heading back to good old America. How do I feel about this? I'm not completely sure. Right now, I'm a little sad, but also seeing that it really is time to wrap things up. In fact, I've seen a few signs that tell me "it's time":
1) I've run out of interesting book to read to the kids at Nkokunjeru. A few more weeks there and they would be bored with me.
2) Joel and Jill Skinner left last weekend. That was just plain sad, because they are really fun people and it's just not the same without them here.
3) We slaughtered one of our pigs for Joel and Jill's going away feast. It's quieter without him.
4) The Ugandan family that lives on our compound just got a rooster that crows at 6:30 in the morning.
5) We found another rat in the kitchen.
6) I've been about pushed to my limit with "'Ay muzungu!" You'd think I'd be hardened to this, but I haven't. Because I'm a woman, whenever I hear a man say it I just feel like a piece of meat. Muzungu itself is related to a word meaning "wanderer" or "one who walks around in circles". I understand, though, that this is a common problem for missionaries in lots of other countries.
7) I have almost developed an addiction to coffee---not good.
8) The two discipleship programs Rachael and Josh have been working with are ending this week.
9) I'm running out of clothes. I've thrown out two or three shirts already and need to get rid of some others....
10) I finished up piano lessons today.
11) I'm having serious Disney withdrawals and there are roughly 80 notifications on facebook that have accrued over the last week that I can't look at.
So even though it's sad, I think this week is definitely feeling like a close. It's also been a pretty entertaining time. Really good things that have happened over the last week:
1) I've run out of interesting book to read to the kids at Nkokunjeru. A few more weeks there and they would be bored with me.
2) Joel and Jill Skinner left last weekend. That was just plain sad, because they are really fun people and it's just not the same without them here.
3) We slaughtered one of our pigs for Joel and Jill's going away feast. It's quieter without him.
4) The Ugandan family that lives on our compound just got a rooster that crows at 6:30 in the morning.
5) We found another rat in the kitchen.
6) I've been about pushed to my limit with "'Ay muzungu!" You'd think I'd be hardened to this, but I haven't. Because I'm a woman, whenever I hear a man say it I just feel like a piece of meat. Muzungu itself is related to a word meaning "wanderer" or "one who walks around in circles". I understand, though, that this is a common problem for missionaries in lots of other countries.
7) I have almost developed an addiction to coffee---not good.
8) The two discipleship programs Rachael and Josh have been working with are ending this week.
9) I'm running out of clothes. I've thrown out two or three shirts already and need to get rid of some others....
10) I finished up piano lessons today.
11) I'm having serious Disney withdrawals and there are roughly 80 notifications on facebook that have accrued over the last week that I can't look at.
So even though it's sad, I think this week is definitely feeling like a close. It's also been a pretty entertaining time. Really good things that have happened over the last week:
- Rachael, Emily, and I have had some good quality time with our "family", the Hollenbecks. Dale said that I would be a really fun daughter (then went on to make fun of how I still like Disney princesses), has spent nights up talking with us, and said that he was really glad we were at his house. Micah, the oldest and hardest son to crack, has started actually taking interest/concern in us. Zach actually asked me to do homeschooling with him because he thought I was fun.
- I beat Micah at Settlers of Catan.
- I've had quite a few laughs at school. On Monday at Nkokunjeru, I gave the kids an assignment to write about their family, favorite things, and future dreams. One kid said "My favorite thing is teacher Laura and for me my future dream is to be a teacher like teacher Laura." Other kids talked about how much they liked mangoes and had future goals of going to America. On Tuesday, I was looking at Religious Education exams at Bible Baptist, and one kid wrote: "Q: What are commandments God has given us? A: Do not lie, do not bet, do not cut off your firiends head." Then a teacher broke out stickers in class and all the kids when CRAZY. Today, I read Aesop's Fables to the kids at Nkokunjeru and asked them to try to figure out the morals. I had answers such as "Don't hide your axe in the bush." and "Do not take off your jacket."
- In the middle of church at Bible Baptist last Sunday they put a very familiar American song into the sound system. It was a bluegrass version of "I'll Fly Away"--banjo, twang, and all. It was hilarious. We had the entire church singing along--"I'll fry away, oh glory, I'll fry away...." One thing I LOVE about Bible Baptist services, though, is when the kids go up front and sing songs in Runyankole. It's really beautiful.
- I've spent a lot of time at the Boyetts' house over the last few weeks. This means internet, banana bread, coffee, and movies...oh yeah, and the missionaries. Actually, I've really really enjoyed getting to finally spend time with Mike and Susan. Mike is really intelligent (and an avid coffee drinker like my father) and Susan is one of the sweetest people I've ever met.
It's been a sweet, precious time. I thought the majority of my learning here would be about the culture, but I've found that my biggest lessons have come from the missionaries themselves. Missionary life here is a struggle in different ways than I thought it would be. It's the little things--being called muzungu, having people constantly in and out of their houses, not being able to go for Sunday drives, not having good movies to watch--that are the real struggle. It's day-to-day perseverance in a place where you are cut off from your native culture. It's a lot more than that, too, but this blog is long enough already.
So next Friday, I plan on waving goodbye to matooke and posho and saying hello to Cap'n Crunch and brownies. Mmm mmm good.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Rwanda
I feel that the rat issue should be closed before any other subject is addressed: as of the day after my last blog, Rodnina was found in the laundry room, tailless and mysteriously headless. Where the head went, we are not sure, but at least one of our rats is officially dead and GONE.
Now I can talk about the last few days, which I spent in Rwanda. Rachael, Josh (the third intern here from Covenant), Jason (an intern who is here with AIM), and I decided to go to Rwanda with Dale for three days this week as a retreat/learning experience/why not kind of trip. It was a lovely six hour drive with our "chauffeur", Ben the Ugandan/Rwandan. I found that the farther south you go from Mbarara, the more hills appear. These hills are AMAZING. They are huge, rolling hills covered in tufts of green. By the time we reached the region of Kabale, I was just blown away, because not only had the hills gotten bigger, they were also cultivated with patches of fields all the way to the tip-top. I can't imagine what the calf muscles on those farmers look like.
Rwanda was even more beautiful, as it is actually called "The land of a thousand hills". It took us a while to get through the border, but when we did we immediately noticed a difference. Rwanda is a lot more organized than Uganda and the people there don't hassle you nearly as much. Plastic bags are not allowed there (they will actually take them away from you if you try to bring them into the country) so it's cleaner and smells better (no burning plastic trash). The roads are paved for the most part and the dirt roads are far smoother than the ones in Uganda. We stayed in Kigali, the capital city, and it was far cleaner than Mbarara. The boda drivers (as in motorcycle taxis, and they are called "motos" there) actually have helmets and even have helmets for the passengers, which you definitely don't find in Mbarara. The people even looked different, which I was not expecting. I came to the conclusions that Ugandans are just really hardcore, which is why they are left safe. Later I decided that this isn't really true at all.
We met some very nice missionaries, Fiona and Chris Turrely (I probably didn't spell that right, and I officially apologize), who gave us dinner and got us settled into a guest house. Then we got our first taste of the effects of the genocide as we watched a film called As We Forgive, which addressed how hard it is for the victims of the Rwandan genocide to forgive the perpetrators.
The next day we were hit full force by the reality of the genocide at the Kigali Memorial Center. In the beginning part of our tour, we walked through several memorial gardens, passed a wall of names, and walked around several mass graves--giant slabs of concrete that covered bodies beneath. Inside, we went through the stages of the genocide. Now I'll give you a history lesson: There had always been a rift between the two main tribes in Rwanda, the Hutus and the Tutsis. When colonization hit, the Europeans used this rift to their advantage, made connections with the Tutsi ruling class, and issued identification cards. After they left in the 1960's, the Hutu power took over and many of the Tutsis fled the country. There were several sporadic killings of Tutsis by Hutus until tension escalated in 1994, when the planned genocide began. From April to July, over a million Tutsis and moderate Hutus (which is a lot considering that there are were only eight or nine million in the population to begin with) were slaughtered by a trained Hutu army. Finally, the killers were taken down by the Rwandan Patriotic Force; some were arrested and others fled to neighboring countries. Cleaning operations seem to have been successful, but giving grief counseling to an entire nation of people who lost family members has been a very difficult task.
The hardest part of the memorial was realizing that these were real people. There was an exhibit with actual clothes, photos, and bones of people who had been killed. There were testimonies of survivors remembering those who had died. The last exhibit showed photos of children who had been killed. Underneath each picture there were plaques about the children--their favorite food, favorite game, personality traits, and the way they had been killed (machete in the head, thrown into a latrine, smashed into the wall, etc). With each picture, I was seeing faces of the children in my classes here in Mbarara and I was heartbroken. Afterwards we went to a church memorial. The priest of this church had hidden 5,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus inside and then run to the Hutu army, who came back and murdered everyone inside. The clothes of the victims were laid out on the pews, there were still some bloodstains on the wall, and outside were open mass graves that you could walk down into. By the time we were finished, I felt about twenty pounds heavier.
Lunch was an extreme contrast. We went to the first mall that I have seen since being in Africa, and I had my first frappuccino in a month and a half. There was even a huge supermarket there that looked like Walmart and had Backstreet Boys music playing over the intercom. Talk about cultural confusion. I heard a Casting Crowns song playing somewhere else and I kept thinking "We're still in Africa, right...?"
Since the genocide, there has been a huge increase in security, so walking around the city was actually really nice and hassle-free. The boys made sure that we went to dinner at a restaurant with a TV so that we could see the Spain vs. Portugal game *rolls eyes*.
On the way home the next day, we ran out of gas, waited for about half an hour for Ben to go to someone's house on a boda to see if they had some diesel fuel, and had a really interesting experience in someone's backyard pit latrine--but hey, this is Africa. I also had the strangest "I'm home" feeling when we reached Mbarara again.
So, my impression of Rwanda: clean, organized, and breathtakingly beautiful. Also broken and painted with sadness. Rachael and I realized that nearly everyone there who was our age or older had probably been drastically affected by the genocide, having lost someone, been related to a killer, or been betrayed by a neighbor. I can't imagine what it would be like to live in daily, palpable fear of someone coming after my family with a machete. I also can't imagine having just one member of my family brutally murdered, much less my entire immediate family. It makes me think about how precious life actually is.
Now I can talk about the last few days, which I spent in Rwanda. Rachael, Josh (the third intern here from Covenant), Jason (an intern who is here with AIM), and I decided to go to Rwanda with Dale for three days this week as a retreat/learning experience/why not kind of trip. It was a lovely six hour drive with our "chauffeur", Ben the Ugandan/Rwandan. I found that the farther south you go from Mbarara, the more hills appear. These hills are AMAZING. They are huge, rolling hills covered in tufts of green. By the time we reached the region of Kabale, I was just blown away, because not only had the hills gotten bigger, they were also cultivated with patches of fields all the way to the tip-top. I can't imagine what the calf muscles on those farmers look like.
Rwanda was even more beautiful, as it is actually called "The land of a thousand hills". It took us a while to get through the border, but when we did we immediately noticed a difference. Rwanda is a lot more organized than Uganda and the people there don't hassle you nearly as much. Plastic bags are not allowed there (they will actually take them away from you if you try to bring them into the country) so it's cleaner and smells better (no burning plastic trash). The roads are paved for the most part and the dirt roads are far smoother than the ones in Uganda. We stayed in Kigali, the capital city, and it was far cleaner than Mbarara. The boda drivers (as in motorcycle taxis, and they are called "motos" there) actually have helmets and even have helmets for the passengers, which you definitely don't find in Mbarara. The people even looked different, which I was not expecting. I came to the conclusions that Ugandans are just really hardcore, which is why they are left safe. Later I decided that this isn't really true at all.
We met some very nice missionaries, Fiona and Chris Turrely (I probably didn't spell that right, and I officially apologize), who gave us dinner and got us settled into a guest house. Then we got our first taste of the effects of the genocide as we watched a film called As We Forgive, which addressed how hard it is for the victims of the Rwandan genocide to forgive the perpetrators.
The next day we were hit full force by the reality of the genocide at the Kigali Memorial Center. In the beginning part of our tour, we walked through several memorial gardens, passed a wall of names, and walked around several mass graves--giant slabs of concrete that covered bodies beneath. Inside, we went through the stages of the genocide. Now I'll give you a history lesson: There had always been a rift between the two main tribes in Rwanda, the Hutus and the Tutsis. When colonization hit, the Europeans used this rift to their advantage, made connections with the Tutsi ruling class, and issued identification cards. After they left in the 1960's, the Hutu power took over and many of the Tutsis fled the country. There were several sporadic killings of Tutsis by Hutus until tension escalated in 1994, when the planned genocide began. From April to July, over a million Tutsis and moderate Hutus (which is a lot considering that there are were only eight or nine million in the population to begin with) were slaughtered by a trained Hutu army. Finally, the killers were taken down by the Rwandan Patriotic Force; some were arrested and others fled to neighboring countries. Cleaning operations seem to have been successful, but giving grief counseling to an entire nation of people who lost family members has been a very difficult task.
The hardest part of the memorial was realizing that these were real people. There was an exhibit with actual clothes, photos, and bones of people who had been killed. There were testimonies of survivors remembering those who had died. The last exhibit showed photos of children who had been killed. Underneath each picture there were plaques about the children--their favorite food, favorite game, personality traits, and the way they had been killed (machete in the head, thrown into a latrine, smashed into the wall, etc). With each picture, I was seeing faces of the children in my classes here in Mbarara and I was heartbroken. Afterwards we went to a church memorial. The priest of this church had hidden 5,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus inside and then run to the Hutu army, who came back and murdered everyone inside. The clothes of the victims were laid out on the pews, there were still some bloodstains on the wall, and outside were open mass graves that you could walk down into. By the time we were finished, I felt about twenty pounds heavier.
Lunch was an extreme contrast. We went to the first mall that I have seen since being in Africa, and I had my first frappuccino in a month and a half. There was even a huge supermarket there that looked like Walmart and had Backstreet Boys music playing over the intercom. Talk about cultural confusion. I heard a Casting Crowns song playing somewhere else and I kept thinking "We're still in Africa, right...?"
Since the genocide, there has been a huge increase in security, so walking around the city was actually really nice and hassle-free. The boys made sure that we went to dinner at a restaurant with a TV so that we could see the Spain vs. Portugal game *rolls eyes*.
On the way home the next day, we ran out of gas, waited for about half an hour for Ben to go to someone's house on a boda to see if they had some diesel fuel, and had a really interesting experience in someone's backyard pit latrine--but hey, this is Africa. I also had the strangest "I'm home" feeling when we reached Mbarara again.
So, my impression of Rwanda: clean, organized, and breathtakingly beautiful. Also broken and painted with sadness. Rachael and I realized that nearly everyone there who was our age or older had probably been drastically affected by the genocide, having lost someone, been related to a killer, or been betrayed by a neighbor. I can't imagine what it would be like to live in daily, palpable fear of someone coming after my family with a machete. I also can't imagine having just one member of my family brutally murdered, much less my entire immediate family. It makes me think about how precious life actually is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
