Impressions

[This was written Friday, Sept. 4 but posted today, Wed. the 9th]

I can’t think of the right adjective to apply to the vibe of Kigali. Controlled, perhaps. Measured. It really is a lovely city, very clean, wide and well-paved roads, well manicured green spaces, people walk on the sidewalks, no dogs or goats or pigs roaming the streets (though I have seen the same chicken cross the road twice). I guess I was expecting slightly more chaos, and chaotic it is not. That said, I am beginning to understand that much of what I see in Kigali is likely the outcome of a very strong, heavy handed government.

I had read quite a bit about Rwanda and Paul Kagame’s approach to governing the country, so I had expected some degree of lawfulness. In the books and documentaries I imbibed before coming, the culture had been labeled “obedient”. The people had been called "conservative". From what I've seen thus far, I would agree with those sentiments. People do little more than glance at me or nod when I walk down the street, no calls or stares to speak of. The kids have given me a few sing-song “Muzungu!” shouts (Muzungu means “white person”, obviously), but it’s not an accusation so much as an acknowledgment. I just smile and wave, or ask “how are you?” so they can practice the English they now learn in school. The few times I've looked particularly baffled, people have approached me to offer help. Even the poor moto driver who took me on a 45-minute tour of Kigali after mistaking "Kaciryu" for "Kicukiro" was very sorry that he wasted my time when it was clearly my fault for a) not being clear, and b) not speaking the language.

In some ways, I feel the same way about being here in Kigali as I do in New Orleans. I don’t know what the “Before” is like. I am experiencing the “After”, and for that I have no frame of reference. I am the outsider looking in on a society that experienced profound devastation, and that event will forever serve as the dividing line. For instance, there are no street dogs here because almost all of them were shot by the various armies after the genocide. The dogs were eating the bodies. Maybe there were dogs everywhere “before”, but again, I don’t know the “Before”. This is just a trivial example of what I’m talking about, but the same principles apply to just about everything I see. In trying to process and understand all that I am seeing and experiencing, I find myself trying to filter it through something of which I have no comprehension — the genocide. Granted, I’ve been here little more than 48 hours, but I’m straining to use my keenest powers of observation to attempt to get acclimated as soon as possible.

This weekend I’m traveling to Kibuye with a fellow Tulane graduate who’s interning here with the Payson Center for International Development. It’s a quiet town in the west on Lake Kivu, which straddles the Congo-Rwanda border. It is also home to the most comprehensive extermination of Tutsis during the genocide. Before 1994, nearly 20% of the population was Tutsi. Ninety percent of that Tutsi population, roughly 10,000 people, was murdered in those few months. There is a church that serves as a memorial in Kibuye; 4,000 people were killed there during the peak of the war. It should be an interesting experience.

Being here, I've been thinking a lot about memory as it relates to the healing process. I've also been thinking about shaping collective memories from a public policy point of view, and how it relates to rebuilding and redevelopment. I think there a many social work implications caught up in contemplating how to "memorialize" something in order to allow people to grieve while still progressing in a positive way towards the future. Perhaps this will be the topic of future posts.