Nyamata Memorial Church

This was my journal entry on my way home from Nyamata Memorial Church august 18:

Just leaving Nyamata, after sharing a moment of silence in honour and memory, holding hands in a circle with all participants; and one of the Rwandan participants led us in a beautiful memorial prayer. It is so hard to imagine and understand that the 10 000 people that went into this church for refuge did not come out.... Didn't have a safe bus waiting for them outside to bring them home for dinner.

I saw piles and piles of clothes that thousands of innocent people were killed in, a separate pile for clothes taken off the thousands of bodies found that had beeb disposed by being thrown down toilet holes; the bent bars in the metal doors that the militia forced their way through; blood stains on the alter cover and all over the walls, bullet holes, broken bricks on pillars by heads being smashed against them. A top hat, jewlery and rosaries, children's overalls.... Never to be worn again.

In the backyard of the church were mass graves of 45 000 people, which included those inside the church And the surrounding community. We were able to walk underground into them.... Rows of coffins, of bones, of skulls that showed the brutality of their deaths... Machete slashes, cracked in half, or some with bullet holes- who as our guide explained were those that paid a fee for a gunshot to spare the pain of other unthinkable methods of murder. The guide told us many horrific stories...

It is still so unimaginable even thoughthe site is so present... So haunting...Evidence in front of my eyes. It seems to be some form of self protection mechanism because thinking of reality would be too painful... But this was reality for so many. I stood looking at the mass graves thinking ... 45 000 buried right here.... My entire university population is 20 000... My attempt to get some sort of Perspective on numbers and scale.

We had time for personal reflection and it was hard to keep my eyes off some of my Rwandan friends who I know lost their families in 1994. I wanted so badly to give them a hug go let them know someone was there for support but knew I couldn't and that they needed their time alone. I then also started to question whether I had the right to be so emotional at this site and mourn along with them- afterall I am a representative of the international community that failed them during this time of need.

Stories I have been told and conversations I have had since I have been here kept running through my head..one in particular with a guy around my age who lives with one of the Rwandan participants in a group of 7 friends and cousins who were all orphaned in the genocide and have lived together since. He asked me one day how I feel when I am with my parents or having dinner as a family..." I was too young when they were killed I don't remember what it's like, that's why I'm asking... "

The strength of everyone I have met here is truly unreal. Each of them have gone through such horrific experiences and painful pasts yet they dance and sing non stop and know how to live in the moment. I have heard over and over... "Life has to go on."

My host mother was another person I kept thinking of today, a beautiful, extremely warm hearted woman. Over dinner one night, when her daughter had just left the room, she started telling us her story, how she lost her husband and her entire family- left alone with her one daughter claudette. With tears coming down hard she said "that's why we are living here like this" indicating the tiny 2 room with nothing more than bare necessities, "we went wherever we could find... One day we'll have more." she also said agin and again... Life has to go on. We asked her if she ever talks about it, if she had anyone to talk to... And she said no, never. I think it was clear she appreciated us listening to her story that has been kept in side for too long.

It was important for me to go there and see the gruesome sites, to go home with strong memories and stories to share.

Where were you in 1994? I was 4 years old... Running around on playgrounds and kindergarten classrooms. In a country halfway around the world, it could have been my life cut short then and there... But Life at home proceeded as normal. Did you know what was happening? Did anyone bat an eyelash? I think of this and it boggles my mind how a world can just sit still and watch... And then remind myself that this didn't just happen once, but again and again around the world and even happens right now, today- the world hasn't changed. If we don't see it or personally experience it, we don't care. It is way too easy to ignore and way too hard to imagine the realities taking place. After seeing yet another painful memorial site.... I am reminded again of my duty and responsibility as a global citizen to fight apathy, to educate about the past, advocate for change in the present and help build a peaceful future.

Please remember.

Never again.