Remembering Rwanda

This was a hard past few days.

  But they were also beautiful, achingly rich and vibrant. This week was haunting and very memorable. We decided to go to Rwanda - wow! I was excited to go to Rwanda with Liz and the Findleys.. but felt a smidge unsettled because we were breaking BYU rules to do it. Liz hadn't put Rwanda as a part of our approved itinerary. As silly as that sounds, I've learned I can't be too careful in Africa.

  We set out and drove and drove. It felt like a car trip back at home. People laughing and talking, filling up the gas every once and a while... staring at the sun rise and set across the lush African landscape. I felt warm and adventurous. We all got very nauseated and motion sick at one point - but it passed and we continued to the hilly region of the capital; Kigali.

  We drove in to our hotel, checked-in and went to dinner. We decided to visit the famous Hotel Rwanda because it had symbolism and a nice restaurant. Perfect mix :). But my excitement faded as we approached - the now newly furnished - Hotel Rwanda. It as cleaned without a trace of its horrific history. None of the people with me could tell, but I began remembering the film I had seen 'Hotel Rwanda' and how it terrified me as a younger girl. I have a creative mind but sometimes I wish it wasn't so imaginative and detailed. Sometimes I think about more than I want to ponder. It's a gift but tricky sometimes.

  Dinner was lovely. Delicious good and happy conversation. We all had a wonderful meal and smiled the whole time. It was a fun group.

 After dinner, we returned to the quaint hotel on the hillside. The sparkling lights were scattered on the vast hill tops, rising and falling with the horizon. It was breathtaking. I slept hard and woke up early the next morning. We ate breakfast and took the ride to the Kigali Genocide Memorial.

  I believed it would be a difficult - but important- exhibit to visit and understand. Viewing it was harder than I anticipated it would be. Sometimes, in the US, they tone down holocaust museums so they are not as graphic. This museum... didn't understate anything. It was there in raw, grotesque form. It was not designed to just touch the heart but to startle it and make it sore so that its memory is never forgotten. The images were horrible - the videotaped first-hand accounts nightmarish. A million people died in 100 days.... Their own people killed them one by one. Sometimes, we see evil up close and we feel how dark and gripping and chilling it can be. We recognize something twisted, cruel and raw evil in crimes against humanity that is rarely felt elsewhere.

    What was interesting was that, in my heart, I felt the most tender truth that God loved and mourned Rwanda and its people. I sensed only a tiny wind of a deep heavenly ache that had engulfed this country and all of its children. It was a profound experience that I will never forget. I've been trying to work it out in my mind ever since.

  I saw pictures of little kids that had been killed... I heard a man on video cry because his wife was now gone... and suddenly I had the most profound, gripping desire to hug everyone I loved and never let them go. That sounds dramatic... and I know it is dramatic... but I'm glad I have that kind of love for people close to me.

We were all dead silent as we drove to our second destination. It was a church about 30 minutes outside of Kigali. I believe it was called Nymara. We drove through the verdant countryside and I pictured killing scenes on the streets. I envisioned blockades and people running and the sounds of gunfire. For a few, ugly minutes, the chaos of these streets 20 years ago seemed very real to me.

 We arrived at the rural church and walked up. A woman took us to the low, long structure and paused outside. The building was simple and brick with no special memorial or plaque to mark it. After a brief sharing of information, the guide took us inside. My blood ran cold for a moment. Immediately behind the door, inches from our faces were deep shelves filled with human skulls. Some were small, some were matured.... the guide invited us to observe the various breakings in the skulls to identify how they died.

I didn't like that.

Below the rows of skulls were rows of bones.. neatly stacked on the dirt floor. Looking down the middle of the church, I observed coffins... long, dark, wood coffins stacked on the low benches. Above them, draped like veiled ghosts, were hundreds of garments...clothing... hanging from the ceiling. the bundles of fabric were big and thick. We had to walk down the long, dark aisle to get to the other side of the church, missing the cobweb covered caskets by inches. At the end, we observed broken windows and discarded weapons. My mind simply couldn't fully process it... and I tried not to imagine what it was like... I tried.

 There were two younger men with us. When there was a pause in the tour, I asked one politely what his name was... and if he was a survivor. He smiled warmly and said he was called "Jared" and yes, he was a survivor. I delicately asked him if he felt comfortable sharing how he survived. He just looked at me with knowing eyes and said "Only by the grace of God, did I survive". And left it at that. I was so amazed. This young child had been scarred by murders of his family - some of whom had rotting skulls in this very church. They had come to a house of God for protection and had been betrayed by the priest himself. What reason did this young man (only a few years my elder) have to speak of faith? He blew me away. I was so struck by his answer.

 The other young man was named Joseph. He was also a survivor. When I inquired about his story.. he fell silent. "We are all orphans now....some survived because they were passed over under the dead bodies". I looked at him intently. "Do you remember?"

 His eyes were hard "Oh yes".  My heart moved from shock to horror and finally deep compassion for these young men. They were working at the church to tell the world what happened there. To tell the world that 5,000 people were killed there... in a Christian church.

[caption id="attachment_943" align="alignnone" width="300"] A young woman named Kerere poses before her home in the genocide survivors village of Rugerero Rwanda[/caption]

Our final stop was the school house. There was blood on a particular section of the wall where....

  As we drove away, a horrible pit knawed at my stomach. I just wanted to be hugged... I just really wanted to be hugged. I'll never forget all those skulls. It's so important to do good, be good, and be grateful for every precious day.

I will never forget Rwanda... but I don't know if I have the heart to come back again.

Of Saints and Survivors

Today, I attended one of the most spectacular testimony meetings I have ever heard. I wish I could have recorded it, photographed it, captured it perfectly in the files of my memory in all its rich beauty. We approached the Ntinda Branch building to the sound of an opening hymn. We had walked far and underestimated how long it would take to arrive.

  We seated ourselves in chairs under a massive white tent built to keep away the violent rays of the mid-day sun. The sacrament was passed and testimonies began. A man with kind eyes and a white smile began the testimony meeting and asked that the members share testimonies and not stories. He then bore a simple, but powerful witness and took his seat at the front of the tent. What followed was one of the most remarkable sights I have seen in a long time. Member after member began to stand up and come to the pulpit. Men, Women, youth and missionaries serving in the branch. They came one-by-one and stood at the pulpit with faces gushing with joy. Their eyes sparkled and their words were humble and happy. Their testimonies were individual and unique, but they were never more than 5 minutes each. Each one of them bore testimony of Christ, the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, living prophets, and expressed love and gratitude that God gave them the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

  Their words were mature and wise. I could feel how tightly they grasped the gospel and all of its simple teachings. Here are some precious lines I heard today. I learned so much. I was humbled and instructed in a way I have never been before during a testimony meeting. Each face and testimony caused my heart to burn with admiration and a personal witness that what they said was true and profound.

Here are a few great lines:

“I know God lives because my mother is still alive, my family is still alive, my teachers are alive”

“We will do this work if we have to meet in a taxi or in a tent”

“…Bear your testimony, even to yourself”

“This is not a Sunday church, this is a church of daily progression”

Wonderful meeting. We moved on to Sunday school and had a lesson about preparing for the second coming. The teacher was a beautiful, well-spoken women with her hair tied back. She had a very calm, steady air about her. As we read scriptures and spoke of men’s love waxing cold she sobered the class with a question.

“Who here has been in a war zone?”

Not many raised their hands. The teacher proceeded to recount to us a memory she had of being in a war zone. She was a little girl and saw a man shot in front of her. Her parents were not close so she was wandering around alone. Her older brother found her and a police guard took them both to a nearby island. They stayed on the island while it rained all night. When they came back to the coast, they returned to horrific scenes, which I will not describe again in writing.

This teacher continued, “so, when others speak of war… I get very afraid. But the righteous can be prepared and not fear the second coming”. So striking. Her story will never leave my imagination.

While walking home, we fell into step with a young, funny member about the age of 25. Her name was Josephine and she had just returned from a mission in South Africa where she had trained 5 new sister missionaries…. wow, that’s amazing. As we walked down the red, clay road, I asked her questions about her background. She told me she was from Rwanda.

I was curious and asked if she knew anyone that had survived the genocide. She looked at me from under her sunglasses and said “I am a survivor of the genocide”. I was taken aback a little and told her I thought that was incredible. She told me she was a little girl when everything had happened. I asked how she escaped and she said she did not know. However, the grandparents she was staying with had all been killed. She was taken to a refugee camp and finally reunited with her parents at 10 years of age. My mind started racing thinking about her story. “Do you remember the camp?” I asked as delicately as I could. She paused thoughtfully….”I try not to, and so I do not remember very much”.

As we kept walking, she was as chatty and friendly as some of my most social college friends…and I was floored. I was grateful God watched over a little girl during a wave of genocide… I was grateful God led her to the Church and watched this little survivor train 5 sister missionaries in Africa.

God has plans for us all. I was reminded of that today.

She is a miracle.

An African Intellectual

June 3, 2015

   Today was enlightening. We worked through the morning and then ate lunch at a traditional restaurant. The food was… very bland. I probably used more than a tablespoon of salt on my plate of rice just to make it seem like I wasn’t gobbling up minced cardboard… and I only ate a third of my meal. I guess, when in Uganda…!

  Then we took an exciting trip to the cultural craft village. It is a little grassy knoll in the center of Kampala filled with little, red huts. The huts contain shops displaying hand-crafted souvenirs and collectibles. Brightly colored necklaces and wood carvings decorated with cow bone were strewn across the dirt floors. I loved talking with the people. However, it was difficult to have genuine conversations with them when they were so intensely focused on haggling for a price for, at least something, in their shop. I was pleased with my two purchases (cool salad tongs and a gift for Chris) and felt I had jumped back into my bargaining skills. I didn’t want to buy much, but I am determined to go back to visit one particular store. It was an art shop filled with the most beautiful, original African artwork. I kept staring until I found a few exquisite pieces that I nearly drooled over. They were block-work, or a carved piece of wood used to make a stamp print. Incredible. When I asked how much they were, A graceful African man at the other end of the store lifted his nose (and reading glasses) from a book. In an elegant, African voice, he asked me what picture I wanted and described a few options in the area. He was too far to see where I was pointing. I named the image and he gave me a price. Somehow, we began a conversation. He had visited Minnesota once on an art tour and knew of the Mall of America. Charming.

   We then began talking of politics and development. I shared my interest in Chinese and he enlightened me on the Chinese presence in Uganda and the rest of Africa. Fascinating. His views were very balanced and detailed… He had done homework and an impressive amount of it.

   Soon our conversation turned to history. He knew President Nixon had visited China and recited some of the repercussions of the visit. He also knew the US election system and joined me in an in-depth discussion of Mitt Romney, Obama, religion in the US, and current presidential candidates. I was absolutely flabbergasted. I knew very quickly this was one of the most naturally intelligent people I had ever met, a brilliant, well-read, interpersonally charming individual.

When I asked him where he had been educated, he simply smiled. “I read, I watch and I listen”. Unbelievable. My thoughts returned to him many times during the day. My conversation with him was an unforgettable lesson on human potential and the power of will. Incomprehensible knowledge of the gospel and the world is accessible to us, even in Africa. How often do we choose to absorb it, to understand it, to seek it out. If my new friend in Africa knows more about the US electoral system than I did a few years ago, I can be inspired to learn more richly and deeply than my previous expectations restricted me to. God designed us to do and become wonders. This man in Kampala, Uganda is a wonder to me. While he is probably imperfect and has many things yet to learn, he striking displayed an intellect that I will never forget.

In the evening, we ate dinner with other students here for the summer. They had many questions about LDS missions and experiences we had seen abroad. It was a wonderful missionary opportunity and a time for me to express gratitude for such a sweet, selfless time of my life. Interesting people are drawn to Uganda. One woman spent a year in Kazakstan, another has been to Africa 3 times for work/research. Another of our friends is currently working for UNICEF. Great people, adventures really provide fertile soil for good friendships.

 I have many moments where I love Africa and the beautiful people I am meeting and the adventures… and I have an occasional moment where the darkness of it all frightens me tremendously. Maybe I’m just not used to it yet. The chaos and the dirtiness steam into the air like the red clay on the street. 

I’m learning so much here, and the people are beautiful. I believe in them even if they don’t believe in themselves.

Africa is amazing.

Sunday in Uganda

May 31, 2015

   I woke up to bright light spilling through the windows. I was hot and slightly sticky underneath the coverlet. The mosquito net was still in place around me. My head throbbed - I hadn’t slept much and I knew I hadn’t had Diet Coke in many hours. I looked at my phone and saw a 5 minute old text from Peter and Kate. They were already downstairs. I sent them a quick message telling them I needed 10 minutes. I jumped up, threw on fresh clothes, washed my face and brushed my teeth. I put on sunscreen and threw a Cliff bar in my bag before running outside.

  Africa is much less terrifying in the daylight. I could see everything. The red clay roads were beautiful against the deep green vegetation. Everything is run down and the streets are hectic. The climate is warm and humid.

We made it to church. The branch met in a nice little building with fans and air conditioning. The people here are beautiful. They have long, hanging slender arms and bright smiles. Their little children ran up to me and gave me high fives. Their eyes were shining and I instantly fell in love with them.

I was surprised at the strength of the testimonies that we heard in church. It took all of my will power to fight exhaustion and be attentive, but I listened. One young man said he was leaving on a mission next week even though his mother may pass away soon. “God gave my mother life. So I want to serve Him”. Powerful words. I hope to be that steady and consecrated throughout my life. No excuses, just willing to serve.

Relief Society was interesting. Most of the women there were new converts. The President is an American who is here with the Peace Corps. I could tell that she was working hard to keep the little Relief Society together and was grateful that she came all this way to serve in this corner of the Kingdom.

After church, Kate and Peter let me stay with them the rest of the day. I was so grateful….so, so grateful. That is so important. People shouldn’t be left alone in a new place. I learned that in Taiwan and didn't want it happening here. Interaction is a need; just like sleep, water and oxygen. Being with them worked wonders for my psyche and my perspective. They are good friends.

In the evening, we had dinner with our driver (Alfred) and his family. It was wonderful to just talk with him, his wife Edith and their two boys. The boys played with us and eagerly ate their french fries. They loved the attention of the foreign visitors. They got some money from their dad and had their faces painted like superman and spiderman. Darling. Some characteristics are the same wherever you go in the world. Happiness, play, laughter…. we just sat there and enjoyed food with our African friends..and it was marvelous. and lonely tonight. Tomorrow will be even better; I’m excited for all it will bring.