I Have Been Hesitating to Write

Because it is so hard. Not to write, but to emotionally internalize what I have been experiencing here. I knew I was coming to a post-genocide environment, but to read those words or to conceptually know that reality is absolutely different from physically being immersed in that space. And in the same moment, Rwanda is so much more than the genocide that took place here. I would never want to reinforce the singular association the world places it in.

I have been sad/irritated for two weeks, and during those interworkings of myself I knew it was due to being overwhelmed by the tragedy you have to interpret, if you have eyes or heart open at all, when you are introduced to this place.

I was (of course) beating myself up about feeling these ways and not eminating a positive sheen, but then I met an incredible woman here who told me the wisest thing. She said you must go through this process, really feel it, to get to a position where you can be proactive in positive change inside the blanket of this reality, whatever characteristics it provides. It made me fel better and take it easy on myself to be in this environment and so upset.

I am finally seeing through to some of the purpose of my interpersonal reactions to this place.
I mean, to tell street children on a daily basis that, no, I won't give them money is enough to break someone like myselves spirit. But then layer it with a nostalgia encased atmosphere of loss and trauma lurking behind everyones vision and experience. It is quite un-understandable.

And the immense feeling of helplessness to change anything I see here at this point, takes another jab at me. But in the same moments fortifies a conviction that, I am so thankful and belssed to say, burns like a ragin fire inside of me. It is there, and I have so much gratitude for it. Anyone of you who have known or seen a glimpse of the inside of me will be familiar with tis flame. That's why you read isn't it? And it is why I write, to actively (reader and writer) observe how the flame take to the Rwandan wind.

I wasn't sure how the elements were meeting and that is why I hesitated to write.

I went to another memorial site that was immensly upsetting. My stomach starts hurting everytime I am face to face with the close history of the genocide. It was a church where a smaller town's community fled while hiding from the genocidaires. 10,000 people were killed in brutal and torturous ways at this site with only 7 survivors. One of the 7 gave us the tour of the church. He must have been around 20 and had worked there for two years.

I can't imagine that reality placed in someone's daily life. Brutal, brutal killings that I won't go into here. But, as part of my research assistant work for a professor at Columbia I have documented all of the extensive information about the first memorial site I told you about and if anyone is interested in those readings I will post them here.

Skulls and bones lined the memorial catacombs, you could see machete cut fractures in the skulls and bullet holes. Priests were often in collaboration with the killers and would baptise people before sending them to death. I don't even want to write this stuff to you and expose you to it, but the only saving grace I have had, in this sea of feeling helpless is that if I can reach your ears in some form of information dissemination and advocacy for victims of violence then it is not in vain.

One day I will do more.

Villages that used to stand are no more as there are no remaining citizens from there left alive. People hid in marshes, scavenging for food at night.
And amongst these stories the opposite exists. Stories of people digging trenches to hide the hunted in and concealing the patch of earth by planting sweet potatoes on top. Or hiding 400 orphans, who had standing room only with their arms crossed in front of them, and bringing them food hidden in waste bins.

What can you make of all this? How do you organize these events in your mind and emotional body? I would like to hear some of your thoughts.

But for now I need some new shoes. In places like this, even a frivolous thing like that inflicts guilt upon my consciousness of having more than others and of wanting comforts.
Just another thing to sort out.

I am touched that you are engaged wityh me through reading my experiences.

Notice that Peace When it is With You,
Chelsea