Murabeho (Goodbye)

In a few days I leave Rwanda to head back to the U.S. How do I sum up what has been the most intense 6 months of my life? How do I tell you about the personal transformation that has taken place as a result of living in an extremely complex society with its many sets of contradictions? How do I explain to you that my outlook on everything – from how much water I use to the power of reconciliation – will never be the same?

Several people will probably ask me what I valued most about this experience, and without hesitation, I’ll tell them it’s the many people whose lives has touched mine, and in little ways I’ve tried to touch theirs. It’s the lessons that individuals have taught me about how important and necessary it is to build (and in some cases rebuild) communities that were disrupted and/or destroyed by conflict. It’s the hours that I’ve spent listening and communicating in a language I don’t understand, as well as participating in community activities such as meetings, communal work, and the weekly court sessions in my neighborhood.

But most of all it’s the stories of the 50 plus families who have given me access to their lives, their hopes, their deepest fears. It’s the stories that will continue to play over and over in my mind.

Like the story of Immaculate the 30 year old woman who was only a teenager during the genocide. She lost her entire family during the war, and was raped by her guardian who infected her with AIDS. Immaculate recently took a turn for the worst. She’s now in a comma with only days to live….

It’s the story of Clementine who owned a bar during the genocide where many of the killers came to “unwind” after a “hard day’s work” (that’s how they referred to their “jobs” of massacring thousands of Tutsis and moderate Hutus during the war). She was recently released from 10 years in prison for being privy to several conversations that could have prevented the deaths of thundreds of her friends and neighbors – she has now committed her life to building peace.

Innocent – the man who used his own resources to spare the lives of many children during the genocide. He was recently on trial for allegedly killing one of his neighbors – the accuser was the lover of his ex-wife. In the end it was the moving testimony of 3 of the young men whose lives he saved that saved his life.

(Note: the stories are real but the names of the individuals mentioned in this blog entry have been changed).

It’s the powerful men and women that I’ve met who are leaders, parents, teachers and tailors, housekeepers and home-makers that I will never forget. These are the people (of all ethnic groups) that I spent hours talking with – whose homes I visited – whose community I became a part of.

Some US travelers would come to the end of an experience like this and thank God for how blessed they are to live in a country where there is hot running water, indoor plumbing, and where the electricity hardly ever goes out. But for me the reflections go deeper than that – the love, joy, peace, and strong sense of community that I experienced here far outweighs any luxuries that I had to forgo…. and on a larger scale this experience makes me even more committed to question the injustices that continue to exist in our world today. Such as why is it that 20% of the world’s population (mostly residents of Europe and North America) live on 80% of the world’s resources; “250 million people have died of hunger-related causes in the past quarter-century — roughly 10 million each year”; or why is it that as an international community we said “NEVER AGAIN” would we fail to intervene to prevent genocide, and yet in Darfur (the Western region of Sudan) “more than 450,000 people have lost their lives and millions have been displaced“. These are the questions that I continue to struggle with – the questions that I hope will begin to dominate your thoughts, prayers, and actions (if they haven’t already).

So dear friends and family, I thank you once again for your continued support and encouragement through what has been an amazing journey! Kwaheri ya kuonana (With blessing till we meet again)!

“How was Africa?” (by Leigh Anderson – Guest Blogger)

 

It has been about three months since I returned back to the states after a two month stay on the continent. Although it was my first time in the Motherland, it proved to be one of the most rewarding experiences. The experience was one in which I was able to progress considerably and break through the confines of a normal undergraduate experience. Critical to my long term ambitions the experience served as a catalyst in my personal life equipping me with a higher level of motivation towards newly established goals. My experience was one that inspired me to grow personally and academically as a scholar.

The transference of familiarity between me and those that I would encounter during my stay was phenomenal. Helping me to dispel many myths my trip to Africa was one filled with great revelations. The trip served as an opportunity for me to achieve many goals that I never knew I would ever get a chance to fulfill as well as achieve some goals that I did not even know existed. These goals were academic, emotional and spiritual. The continent is amazing!

While there I traveled from Rwanda, to Uganda, Kenya and also Ethiopia. Each country had a different flavor. However, there are just some things that are constant and that continued to surface throughout my experience. For many years I believed that there was a huge distance between the continental African and the African-American. Not just physical, but mental, emotional. I refuse to believe that continental Africans do not identify with African-Americans. The levels of hospitality and sense of community was something I had never experienced before in my life and honestly believe that I will never again experience until my next visit to the continent. I had been away from home for almost 400 years and to go back was an indescribable feeling. Rwanda was a country full of inspiration, hope and healing. The women that I met there sent me back to the states with new found self respect; a new attitude to encourage standing up for what I believe is right, a strong sense of family and the ability to be as strong as they are. To get an opportunity to observe with my own eyes the cultures and customs that I could only dream about was a privilege that remains unparalleled.

While in Kenya, I had the opportunity to witness history. Being in Kenya during election time, I was able to observe a country entering into what I would call a political and cultural revolution. I went to Kenya knowing nothing about their political state or even much of their history. I left with a greater understanding of not only Kenyan politics but also the role of the international media on issues on the continent and how it contributes to the negative stereotypes surrounding issues on the continent. It felt good to see that the people of Kenya decided that their voices would be heard. The violence that took place was unfortunate, and the lives that were lost did not go in vain. The government asked that Kenyans come out in large numbers and vote, peacefully. And that is exactly what they did. So to see the elections stolen away from them was painful.

I hope that this idea of no longer accepting complacency will spread across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States during our election time. The people of Kenya are to be commended. I look up to them and it was that experience that inspired me to exercise my vote to the fullest, a privilege that sadly I had not been excited about taking part in. I learned that the voice of the people must be heard and even if those in power attempt to ignore it, they can not ignore solidarity and that it what has taken place in Kenya. This was an experience that will never be forgotten. To go with one mother and father and come back with many mothers and fathers was amazing. I never felt uncomfortable or out of place. I never felt like I could not survive or that I did not belong.

When I returned to the states and people would ask me, “How was Africa?” I would smile and say “she’s fine.” That question is so loaded, and I could not speak about the many experiences that I had or the many people that I had encountered. But if you ask me, Africa is fine. She is the one place where you can go and be accepted any and everywhere. Africa welcomed me with open arms and to come back to the States and speak on her behalf is an honor. Having been out of the country before, nothing else can compare. I am so proud of my African heritage. I finally know that I have a place to belong, a place to call home.