a picture is worth a thousand words...

 ...but being there is so much better.

I'm back from Rwanda - and this photo (that's me in the left corner!) does not do justice to the beauty of the Rwandan countryside.  We traveled due south of Kigali to visit a refugee camp newly set up in the poorest district in Rwanda.  The camp is set in the hills--but as I learned from my 3-hour drive, much of Rwanda is hills!

I'll write more about the camp experience another time.  For now, imagine with me the valley that you can't see in this picture.  In some areas, they were cropping rice in the valleys; in other areas all kinds of vegetables (cabbages, kale, peas, beans, etc.); banana trees/groves were in some areas; and in some, coffee.  We saw a whole shade-grown coffee cooperative in action on our way, but we were moving too fast for me to take a picture.  The land in the valleys was so verdant and green.  Too bad this photo is so blurry and grey!

I wish this was how the Lord's Prayer was always prayed. It's called Baba Yetu, meaning "Our Father." They were performing in a competition that Paul performed in. His group did not win, but these guys were his favorite. Somehow they did not win either.

the strangers and sojourners

this is Darlene.  David and Travis have gone back to Nairobi, and I'm still here in Rwanda for a brief work trip.  I'm really glad we came here early and had at least a short time to see more of Rwanda (especially Kigali) and meet up with some brothers and sisters here with whom we were connected through church or various organizations.

I am going tomorrow with colleagues to a site where refugees from DRC have congregated.  Many of these families/individuals have some sort of Rwandaphone background.  It appears that they intend to stay for a long while.

For some of the individuals who have recently crossed into the country, they are leaving the familiar for the equally familiar.  Their family has owned land on both sides of the artificial, Western-created border, and they have family members on both sides as well.  It doesn't make it easy to be a refugee in this context, but at least it's a bit more familiar.  But others are leaving the only life they knew and a culture and language they understand to be met with a completely new language, culture, etc.  Making a life here will be a constant relearning and reorienting, and therefore, a constant struggle.  No wonder that God, among hundreds of commands in the Law, directs his people to consider the stranger and sojourner.  He starts by commanding them not to oppress the sojourner, but goes further to direct them to leave a bit of grain ungleaned and fruit unharvested in order to leave some for the strangers among them.  I think he knew that our natural state would be to take all that we "own" for ourselves and not consider anyone else.

Although it's under very obviously different circumstances, I've been thinking about what it means to be a stranger or a sojourner, away from home, as David and I spend time away from what has increasingly felt like home to us in DC.  We feel very keenly the temporary nature of our stay and are thankful to be away only temporarily.  Yet we also feel very blessed by kindnesses and physical comforts and know how fortunate we are to be so well taken care of in this strange place.  We are thankful for the small (and large!) evidences of God's kindness and him showing us hospitality through others.  Our welcome into a Kinyarwandan expression of worship yesterday was evidence of this - I hope we have some pictures/video we can post tomorrow to be able to express it in some small way. And most importantly, he shows us hospitality in that we are no longer strangers to God, but friends and sons and daughters.  That is good news.  

There are many things on the mind. "Forgiveness is not human"; "God does not change"; "Rwanda was on another planet"; "We bring perpetrators and victims together."  A structure is being built with which to communicate them, like this building in Kigali.

Caplaki market provided a welcome break from heavy thoughts. 

I totally bought this t-shirt.

Check this article out. Three Kenyan musicians were charged with hate speech as their songs are said to promote violence against other ethnic communities. From the lyrics of some of their songs the charges appear to be true. After visiting the Genocide museum here in Kigali it is reassuring to see that the Kenyans are having a zero tolerance policy for lyrics that suggest it is good to kill your opponents. 

That is all for tonight. We walked all over the city today. Daudi (my name in Swahili) needs his lala (sleep).

In the book Season of Blood: A Rwandan Journey, Fergal Keane recounts how a fellow journalist called the madness "soul murder." In the documentary about his experiences as the head of the UN peacekeeping force in Rwanda in 1994, Shake Hands with the Devil, Romeo Dallaire reminisces how even years later he can still walk up to specific buildings in Kigali and see the dead bodies. He remarks that for him it is not that he is remembering that they were there...he can still see them. 800,000 people dead in 100 days.


As we land in Kigali you realize that you are flying the same flight path as doomed President Juvenal Habyarimana, shot down over the city during the same approach.  His death began the blood bath.  You land and can see the national stadium from the plane. There, 18 years ago, a small contingent of UN peacekeepers protected thousands of Tutsis and moderate Hutus from certain extinction.  The driver of the taxi asks you, while stopped at a stoplight, if you have seen Hotel Rwanda. Yes, I have. He points at the compound to your left and says, That is Hotel Rwanda. On the ride back from dinner another driver goes by the same hotel, Hotel Des Mille Collines, this time driving by the entrance. It is really there. UN guards stood right by that gate, right there, and stood nervously as interahamwe militiamen drove by with threats and the desire to kill the Tutsis inside. 


And then I realize this Hotel Des Mille Collines, this Hotel Rwanda, is just around the corner from where we are staying. And then I realize that during the Genocide here there were bodies everywhere and we have been driving on streets with ghosts. I do feel shaken because this only happened 18 years ago and I remember hearing news reports about the massacres. This is not in my Grandparents' generation. I was alive. There's the hotel. There's the stadium. You see a man walking around with no arm who appears to be in his forties. You are not crazy for wondering if his arm was hacked off. 


And now I am here and I feel as I imagine I would at Auschwitz, or in Sarajevo and Darfur. Yet this happened throughout the entirety of this tiny nation.  Soul Murder. And I am here and I can feel the weight of memory and I want to understand but at the same time I know that I never will.  I was not here and cannot grasp what I did not see.  I am only feeling the weight of collective memory. 


I am wondering how in these few short days in Rwanda, this Friday to Monday morning, I can be a responsible human here. Forgive me if this sounds overly dramatic. But I want to tread respectfully in this place just as one would do at a concentration camp site, or near a mass grave. I do not want to ignore the vast array of other ways to describe Rwanda, such as the fact that Kigali is the most beautiful  African city I have ever seen, and that it seems there really are a thousand hills. But nor do I want to ignore history. I want to honor the memory of what happened. To say I recognize this occurred in my lifetime.  Maybe there will be a fountain to throw a coin in, or a book in which to put my name. Or maybe I will arrive to a spot and realize that this, this is the place for my prayer:


Oh Dear Jesus, Lord and Savior, help me. For I know that the evil that did this is an evil more powerful than I. Save me Lord. Kill my pride and my contempt and my beliefs that say I am better than any others for any reason. Heal me. Forgive me.  Oh "Repairer of Broken walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings," heal us. May we never go down this road again. Amiin

Welcome! Please come in! Sit anywhere you like we have just opened a month ago. Pick any seats you would like, it is just you two and the other two mzungus over there. Yes, we are currently the only business in this brand new office building. So glad you found us. Oh you read a blog post and now you are here! Wonderful!

Our menu is superb so please allow us to give just one menu between you and your friend. That way you can read it and then he can read it and then you can read it again and then he can read it again and then you can what would you like to drink?

Okay, so here is a beer for your friend and your margarita. What? You do not taste alcohol? That's because the main ingredient is strawberry corn syrup. What? You do not taste alcohol? Ha ha ha, very good my friend.

What would you like to eat? Fajitas for you and enchiladas for your friend. Excellent! I will be right back.

Okay, I am back and have just put in your orders for dinner. May I interest you in any dessert? Oh you want to wait until you have eaten your fajitas and enchiladas. Aha, okay. May I get you something else to drink my friend? Did you enjoy your margarita? You could not taste any alcohol? Ha ha ha, very good my friend.

Well here is your beer and the glass with ice. What? No the beer is not warm but also not baridi. It is neither. Oh, you want a cold one? Okay, a Tusker? Okay my friend.

Here is your tusker. Can I get you guys anything? Okay!

And here are your enchilidas and fajitas. I am standing between you both and have just given your friend his meal but I will now walk to the other side of you and give you yours. Waiting is key. It is also dramatic. What do you want? What? Please say that again you want what? Tortilas? Tortayas? Oh Tortillas!! Why? In America? Really? With fajitas? Ha ha ha, very good my friend! Yes, the chef has said he can bring you some tortillas.

Here are your tortillas. I will now watch you eat.

Can I get you anything? No?

Can I get you anything? No?

Can I get you anything? No?

Can I get you anything? No?

I will give you the dessert menu so that you can order dessert because you should. NO! You should. Oh we have a variety of desserts from the Mexican cuisine. Like our blueberry cheesecake, or our pumpkin pie with strawberry ice cream.  Okay! The pumpkin pie and blueberry cheesecake it is! The chef's special is the cheesecake. He is 23 years old, named Omar, and is from Mexico. He is the head chef! Very early in life yes. And he enjoys what he does and that he has no competition. Oh? You prefer vanilla ice cream with your pumpkin pie? Aha, okay.

Here is your dessert but first please allow me to clean the crumbs that have fallen from your trap. It is very important that I get them all so please keep your conversation going. My you are a pig. I will now wipe your friend's side of the table as well, but only as a courtesy to you. I cannot find a single crumb on his side. Wow, how did you do that?

Here are your desserts. I really do wish you had gotten the strawberry ice cream. Very Mexican. Can I get you anything? Another beer? Are you done with that last bite of fajita? No? You desire to take a last bite or two? Okay, I'll take it then.

Can I get you anything? Oh, you want to use your spoon? That's clever. Can I get you anything? The bill? Of course, here it is.

Thank you so much. Please tell everyone about us.