As a kid growing up, and into high school and college, history was always my least favorite subject. It was boring and dry and never held my interest. I think it was at least partially because I was learning about crazy events that happened in places I never thought I would visit. I always remember saying that if I could just go there, I would be much more interested. I wanted to experience it, not read about it.
I remember the first time that history came alive in my mind – the first time I went somewhere that I had only read about in textbooks. I was twelve years old, standing absolutely mesmerized by a massive wall of names of those who had perished in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. It was the first day of a weeklong vacation to Hawaii, but looking back on it now, I honestly don’t remember much apart from that and being amazed that our cruise ship could actually float. Moments like that stand out in my life. If I were to go back today, it’s likely that I would appreciate it more, and that I would feel a lot more complicated emotions than my childhood-self did thirteen years ago. Even so, that moment is the first time I realized how incredible history could be, if you just went.
My list of places I want to visit has grown exponentially since that moment, and I feel like every time I check a place off my list, I add five more at the same time. Four years ago, I had the chance to visit the D-Day Beaches on the coast of France. My grandfather was a part of that invasion seventy-five year ago, and standing there was one of the most surreal moments of my life. Around the same time, I also got to visit a concentration camp in Germany and the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC. Last year I visited the 9/11 Memorial in New York City, and the Hiroshima Peace Memorial in Japan. It feels weird to say that I enjoy visiting places like that, but I know that they are important. That’s exactly how I felt walking into the Rwandan Genocide Memorial last week.
For anyone that is unfamiliar with the events that took place here in 1994, this is a brief summary. In the decades leading up to the genocide, there were two ethnic groups making up Rwanda’s population: The Hutu majority, and the wealthier Tutsi minority. Without getting too deep in the weeds, there were years and years of hostilities that built up during the mid to late 1900s that eventually boiled over and led to one of the worst genocides in recent history. It was kick started when the president’s plane was shot down by rebel leaders – an event that was immediately followed by the Hutu population rebelling against the Tutsis. Neighbors turned against neighbors, families against their own members, friends against friends. If you were a Tutsi living in Rwanda, you were not safe. People were slaughtered in the streets and massacred in churches and other buildings where they sought refuge. The country was in chaos for over three months before it was finally brought to an end, but during those three months, the world largely turned its face away from the events that were taking place. Rwanda was left to decide its own fate. Over one million people died in one hundred days and are now buried in mass graves, but many even now remain unaccounted for.
I remember learning about all of this in high school, but just like with everything else, it was so far removed from my reality that it didn’t feel real. Even though it had just happened the year I was born, it was still a world away from me and had no effect on my life. I didn’t spare a thought for that event again until I signed up for the Race last year and realized Rwanda was on my route. I knew that was the first site I wanted to experience when I arrived in the country.
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During our initial conversation with our host the day we arrived in his home, he told us that our first full day with him would be spent at the memorial site. He told us that, as a significant part of the country’s relatively recent history, it was important for our ministry that we have a full understanding of what took place and how it was still impacting people here, even today. I have seen very clearly the reason for this over the last week as we have met people through our ministry here. We have been hard pressed to find someone that has not been affected in one way or another. Even those who were born after the fact have stories about what happened to their families during that time.
Part of our ministry is doing home visits on Monday and Tuesday mornings. We walk around the neighborhoods near where we are living and just get to know people. It’s different than ministry that we have done before, in that all of our previous home visits have been premeditated by the pastors we’ve worked with. I’ve never done true door to door ministry before, and I wasn’t sure if I would enjoy it or not, or even feel comfortable doing it at all. I wasn’t sure if these strangers would let us in, or if they did, if they would open up at all about what we were there to talk about. Just as with every other time I’ve had these feelings on the Race, though, I was pleasantly surprised by how God was at work.
Obviously, there were several who were busy or just didn’t want to talk. But those that did let us in led to some really good conversations. It was in those conversations that all of us realized how deeply the genocide was still affecting people in this country. We heard stories from many of the people that we met about people that they had lost, and about how they had fled their homes and their country for refuge. One woman that one of my teammates met brought him to tears with her account of losing most of her family, including her husband and her six-month-old daughter. She herself escaped, but had scars to show that it had not been easy. That was the worst account that I heard, but there were so many more.
At the memorial, we had the chance to talk to a couple of the workers there – all of whom were survivors of the genocide. One worker that we met told us about the family that he lost, and about how he had fled to Uganda shortly afterwards until the chaos had subsided. He also told us of the inaccuracy of some of the accounts we might have heard, which came about because several of my teammates were curious about the events depicted in the movie ‘Hotel Rwanda.’ If you have seen the movie, or at least heard about it, know that it is not an accurate representation of what happened here. He told us that the movie was often the only reference that people had of the genocide, and that it gave the wrong idea.
One of the most encouraging things we heard was from a different worker at the memorial, about the revival that was sparked as a result of the genocide. Pastors from several different countries began pouring resources into the country, which led to people all over East Africa – not only Rwanda – coming to faith in Jesus. That revival is still evident today, as a majority of the country professes to be Christian. That is a stark contrast to the last two countries that we spent time in, where Christianity is still a tiny minority. As I was walking through the museum, before I had that conversation, I was filled with thoughts of what good could have possibly come from such a tragedy. Hearing that testimony, though, showed me that God always has a plan, and that, even in light of the incredible pain felt by this entire nation, He is still at work.
