Rwanda. What's the first thing that comes to mind? Is it the African wildlife? Is it the mountains? Is it African children running after you? Or is it something else, something more dark, something so horrible that you cannot even begin to imagine? Is it the '94 genocide?
On an unexpected off day we went to the Kigali Genocide Memorial. It is located on the hill across downtown Kigali. Here one can walk and visit the mass grave where several thousand people who were murdered are now buried. There is also a museum that takes you through the history of Rwanda and the events leading up to, during, and after the events of 1994. they also have testimonies, skeletons of victims, clothes that were found in the mass graves, photos and videos of the killings, wall upon wall of photos of only a small fraction of the victims, and even a floor of different genocides that have happened around the world, even one's that I've never heard of.
The entire thing was overwhelming, I started to ask myself why and how could people do this to each other and why did no one help? Why did some countries try and make a profit of the killings? Why did the UN pull out? Seeing the history and hearing about the reactions made me depressed, angry, confused, and ashamed at the same time.
There was one room where I almost broke down crying. This room was about the children. There was a quote from a survivor. She was 7 years old and it went something like this: "A man came in to kill us. And I recognized him, he was our friend. He worked for my father and got a fair pay and he would even play with us. We've known him for years. I begged him to spare our lives. Instead he hit me with his machete…he left when he though I was dead."
There were photos of other children whose lives have been taken from them, along with a list of a few things about them. The list included things like favorite foods, best friend, last words, etc. There was one 8 year old whose last words were "where should I run?" She was shot to death. Another's last words was "pray". A 18 month's old last memory was of his mother being murdered right before he was killed. The list goes on, each just as sad and upsetting as the one before it. All the kids were like you and me. Their best friend was their parent or sibling, they enjoyed the same foods like chips (fries), they liked to play with dolls, run with their father, sing and dance. Yet there were some people in the world who thought they didn't deserve to live.
Outside the memorial there was a water fountain in the garden. I had to spend a few moments there staring at it, listening to the water flowing. It helped keep me calm and sane. On the ride back home I realized that there are kids that are not here. They have been killed. There are thousands of generations now missing forever. Hundreds of kids should be in primary school right now…but their not. The people that would have been their parents were killed. The WORLD was forever changed when they died. We will never know if one of them (or someone in their genealogy) would have discovered the cure for cancer or could have positively revolutionized Rwanda or Africa altogether. We will never know. So now the question remains: Will we let the happen again?
