Rwanda. Our third and final month in Africa.
This month we are blessed to be in the capitol city, Kigali, Rwanda. Our first two days in the city has been spent “oohing” and “ahhing” over the modern and western things here. Seeing cars drive on the right side of the road. Stop lights. Street lights. Power that is consistent. Internet cafes with actual desks, and flat screen computers. A mall complete with a coffee shop. Other “mzungus.” Landscaping.
Who would have thought? I certainly wasn't expecting it, but it has been such a blessing. It is fascinating to see this beautiful city. It reminds me of San Francisco, or some other California city, but is still distinctly African still.
Kigali has not always been this way, though. A hard lesson I learned tonight as our team watched the movie “Hotel Rwanda” together. I had never seen this movie before, and didn't know too much about it, or the story about Rwanda in general.
It hit home so hard, especially knowing where we are this month. That in these very streets, not twenty years ago, blood was spilled. Bodies were strewn across the hills and yards. Genocide was born and bread here.
Such a hard truth. To know that one million people were killed. Murdered. While the rest of the world watched; only a few stepping in to “help.” That it took the death of one million people to stir others to action.
In the movie, one of the reporters was speaking with the African man who was running Hotel Rwanda, and told him the cold hard truth. That help wasn't coming. That people would see the pictures, see the footage, and say “Oh my gosh, how horrible.” And would go back to eating their dinner.
It made me wonder how many times I have done that very thing. Hear something terrible, whether something going on in the world, or just a tough situation involving people I knew. Why am I not stirred to action? Why am I not stirred more to pray for these situations? To bring it to the throne of my Father?
I know that Rwanda has changed me already, and will continue to change me this month.
