Rwanda

Just the name is likely to send shivers up and down the spine of people whose only knowledge of Rwanda is what happened here in 1994 -- 100 days of absolute mayhem and killing, at the end of which a million people had been hacked to death -- the infamous Rwandan genocide. And it was genocide, by any definition. It was calculated, planned, and carried out with a specific intention to rid Rwanda of its Tutsi minority, against whom the majority Hutu had nursed hatreds having to do with the privileged status (perceived or real) of the Tutsi minority. As a percentage of the population killed, it was the worst known genocide in history. In addition to the one million deaths, there were at least as many internally displaced persons (IDPs) and refugees who fled across the borders to Congo and other surrounding countries. Others have missing limbs as reminders of the barbaric methods used to do the killing.

If you didn't know any of this about Rwanda, you would never in a thousand years guess that you were in that kind of place just by being here -- at least until you dig a little deeper, begin to have conversations with people, or (of course) visit the genocide memorials. Martin and I flew into Kigali last night from Uganda. The airport is a modern, beautiful place. Everything is clean in Rwanda. Its streets are swept. They have outlawed plastic bags to protect the environment (what do you think about that, Liz?!). I know, because when I arrived at the airport last night, I was carrying a couple of souvenirs I had picked up in Uganda -- in a plastic bag. I was not permitted to exit the airport with that bag in my hand.

I can't tell you how exquisite the natural beauty of this country is. I'm not sure I've ever been in a more picturesque place. Rwanda (at least all I have seen today while driving across the country) is a country of beautiful, rolling hills, cultivated in neat patches, with terraced hillsides that are just lovely. The people are busy, busy, busy -- working their fields, carrying their things to market, building roads -- and in the city, living their urban lives in much the way we do at home. Speaking of the roads, they're amazing compared to anything I've seen so far in Africa. We rode today on a mutatu (that's a small 24-passenger van/bus) from Kigali to Gisenyi, which is on the border with Congo. We arrived here on the shores of Lake Kivu, just in the shadows of Nyirigongo, the volcano that towers over Goma and Gisenyi -- yes, the one that unleashed its fury over Goma in 2002. What a beautiful lake! With beaches, and lovely parks, and a beautiful drive along the shore road with magnificent hotels (one of which I'm actually staying in tonight). Sitting in the garden of the hotel watching the elaborately plumed cranes dance around our table, looking out over the lake at sunset, you would have thought I was in some exotic tropical place fit for royalty.

I am. This is also Africa, lest I have left you with the impression that it's only about starving children, political violence, and lack of adequate schools and good governance.

Most of the rest of my time in Africa will be spent in Rwanda. I will learn a lot, I know, that I don't know about it yet, and I fully expect to see, hear, and experience the legacy of its incredible tragedy. Today on the mutatu, I sat beside a 37-year old Army commander, a Hutu (nearly all of the army are). We talked for over half of the 3-hour journey. He was very eager to share his knowledge of Rwanda with me, which was considerable. And even though he was eager for me to experience the peace and beauty of this place, he did not avoid its recent history. As we went through one town, he told me that ALL of the people in this area had been killed -- one of the most violent areas of the entire nightmare of 1994. He showed me the barracks of the army, from where the killing had been orchestrated. And yet, this town is now a bustling, beehive of activity. Hutus and Tutsis live together here. He emphasized how hard they are working to recover a national identity that does not break along ethnic lines. And lest it seem that this might be the self-exhonorating perspective of the perpetrators, I see the same feelings on the faces of the Tutsi. (And yes, you can tell the difference between the two groups based on visual characteristics.)

This is the very un-nuanced perspective of someone who has only been in Rwanda for 24 hours at this point. I know it is all infinitely more complicated than I can possibly perceive from my limited experience. The book by Peter Uvin that I'm reading is making that abundantly clear. All the more reason, then, to look forward to a conference here on reconciliation, which I will be participating in beginning on Monday. I'll have stories to share, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, I will be saying goodbye to Martin at 6:30 in the morning. He has to get back to Dadaab where the Somali refugees continue to pour in. I will be going across the border (just a few hundred yards from where I am now) into Congo with Innocent Mudjinya, the pastor of Zion Temple in Goma, who will be my host for Saturday and Sunday. His church has a specific focus on ministry to the most vulnerable members of Congolese society -- refugees, widows, orphans -- all the folks that Jesus said we should look out for. We'll be going to a couple of camps, visit some of the orphans they support, and do some sightseeing as well. On Sunday I'll be going to his church for worship, and then head back on another mutatu to Kigali (solo this time). Can't wait to do that beautiful drive again. Just hope I get a window seat this time!