Genocide Memorial Week Part Deux

Have all the bodies been buried? When do survivors stop being survivors?

Two days ago I attended a conference for genocide memorial week. The week is packed with events. All week there are public speaking appearances of different officials for the community to attend. They are held at different levels of government. At night, vigils are held in public spaces. Individuals choose to spend the whole night around a fire with other members of the community, remembering, commemorating, grieving as a group.

Essentially the talk I was attending was the format of a town meeting. There were roughly 200 people in attendance. The speaker was the former Minister of Health. He wanted to get a sense of the growth that has happened in my town since last April. His main question to the community was – Have all the bodies been buried? How is a community supposed to heal and forgive if they have not discovered where the bodies of their loved ones are and been able to give them a proper burial? It’s been sixteen years and still people are left with no burial site. He went on to discuss various topics: family planning (which is a pertinent topic in this country), gender based violence, education.

Individuals from the community were allowed to speak. Instead of answering his questions they wanted to have their voice heard about very specific problems. One has a house that leaks. As a survivor she feels that the government should help her. Another wanted answers the fact that survivors were not being given the money to attend University. Supposedly benefits were being cut off – begging the question, when do survivors stop being survivors? And how much is the government’s responsibility to supplement? Another man felt that his accusations of specific Rwandans as genocidiares was not being taken seriously.

The response from the former Minister of Health was impressive from my perspective. He allowed the local government to have its appropriate role by telling the man with the list of names to speak to the mayor (also in attendance). He told the woman with the leaky house to have her neighbors help her. The last Saturday of every month is umuganda. Every Rwandan is legally bound to do community work, sort of like community beautification with a more practical purpose. Most spend the time taking care of their own yards and land and homes. Occasionally there are larger projects that the community coordinates to have a huge group of people participate in. For instance, the one umuganda that I participated in, there was a large field that needed to be hoed in order to plant. Machinery for farming here is rare. Picture over a thousand people in a field with hoes. I got a little farming lesson, no common language required. Getting back to the point, the woman’s house could become a neighborhood project.

The former Minister of Health pointed out that no one had answered his question. He stressed that bad politics were definitely a cause of the genocide but it was also the ideology perpetuated within the community. If parents continue to teach hatred within their own homes, we cannot combat the genocide ideology.

I am continuously shocked by the blunt statements made by government officials here. As a caveat – I am having everything translated for me so the actual words could be different but I guarantee the message is the same. The meeting had such a small town, intimate feeling. The relationship between citizen and government seems to be closer. I’ll see if my opinion changes as my time here goes on.

Yesterday, I attended the closing ceremony for genocide memorial week. It was held by the lake because this year was focused on commemorating deaths that happened in water. It was incredibly ominous to have a place that most trainees have used as a relaxing place be transformed into a place where bodies were dumped during the genocide. Nothing is as it seems here. There is always a history. The beauty of the country is overshadowed by the trauma that existed and continues to exist. Prayers were said, original poetry was spoken, original songs were performed. This closing ceremony was actually more jarring than the opening event. During the public talks throughout the week there is no crying or much emotion at all. It is more business. There are talks about economics and gacaca. This on the other hand was all about emotion. There were more outbursts from the crowd, and wailing persons being escorted away. Even more heartbreaking was watching the reactions of our language teachers. Specifically seeing a woman who has a tough exterior and is always goofy and joking, break down is heart wrenching. As I watched her (politely of course), her eyes were glazed over and I could tell she was watching old memories. Places she probably never wants to revisit. Today she decided to go back to visit her family and take a break from work. I hope she finds the comfort and reassurance that she needs. Family has that special power.

The image that will stay with me is this – individuals were invited to place flowers onto the lake in remembrance. For many this is the burial site of their loved ones. I’m assuming many bodies continue to lie on the bottom of the lake. People had brought wild flowers from wherever they could find them. Sometimes it would be a ragged little flower that they had carted miles to the ceremony. I hope this small symbol brought healing.