Some Things Stay the Same

We arrived safely in Kigali, Rwanda after our adventures in Brussels, so that makes this blog post the first impressions post. I am supposed to tell you all the dramatic differences between home and Rwanda, but there are more similarities than I was expecting. People still smile at each other on the street and say hello. Friends still gather around a table to share a meal and tell stories. Young people still listen to loud music over drinks. Families and friends still celebrate love with a wedding. A mother's main concern is still her children whether the baby is strapped in a stroller or strapped on her back. There are many more parallels than I anticipated, but there are still a few differences from home. For example, road lines are more like guidelines that actual rules, negotiating is expected, and going out to dinner will take at least three hours.

After spending the morning at the Bourbon Cafe and plugging back into the rest of the world, Jordan haggled with the moto drivers to take us to the genocide memorial. She told us, "You're all set, strap on the helmet and jump on." Not wanting to look like a newbie, I tried to swing my leg over the seat and 'hop on,' instead I almost knocked over the driver and scrabbled on to the seat like a two-year-old. I held on for dear life and we were off. The motos rode in a pack weaving through cars and trucks both with traffic and against. After our final left turn, where I thought we might die, we made it to the memorial.

The atmosphere in the lobby was much calmer than the chaos outside. We gathered information from the receptionist and headed inside. Everyone lost their words and we quietly walked through the exhibits and read the unfolding of the genocide. After the last rooms of photos, bones, and old clothes, Mitch and I waited in the main exhibit for Christian. A horrifying scream came from one of the exhibits. My heart sank to my stomach and my feet felt cemented in the floor. It must be audio from the exhibit video. It wasn't stopping. The wailing cries of agony didn't subside. I felt sick. Please turn it off. Moments later, a women, not much older than me, walked out of one of the exhibits crippled by her memories. I will never forget her heart-renching cries. I cannot imagine witnessing the scenes that compelled her to remember an event in such horror. 

The memorial left us in a reflective state. It left me wondering how any person can come to think so low of another that they could dehumanize an entire group of people. We sought a ride back to the hotel outside the memorial. Mitch hopped on a moto and the rest of us waited for a taxi. Ominous clouds waited overhead. Christian, Steve and I jumped in a taxi. Just as we started down the hill, buckets of rain began to pour over Kigali. We found Mitch standing outside a gated house, drench from the rain, looking like a lost puppy and the guard telling him to 'shoo.' We made it back to the hotel and Mitch's shoes squeaked all the way back to our rooms, but at least he didn't have to shower that night. 

  ~Jess

                     Market Place in Kigali

                  Mitch After the Rain Storm