Rwanda Genocide

 

When my brother and I first started discussing going to Africa, one of the things that he brought up first was going to visit the Rwanda genocide sites. We both share the passion for human rights and in our own small way we work to to right injustices in the world.  That includes having to do our own personal work around our own implicit biases, unconscious racism and conscious racism.

In our much younger lives, when we were still children, we both experienced targeted hatred that left permanent scars. Perhaps it is those scares that left us wanting to do better in the world as we moved into adulthood.  Growing up in a Jewish home antisemitism was rampant and I was the direct victim on many occasions. Going to Hebrew school for years, I was not shielded from the atrocities of the holocaust. And still it wasn’t until I visited Yad Vhshem at age 13  did the stark dark reality of genocide fully hit home. I knew that going to Rwanda meant that I had to go to that memorial site and pay respect. I had to face the horrors of this genocide with eyes wide open. I knew it would be painful and still nothing could prepare me for what I saw.

I knew the numbers, the casualties, and the death, rape torture mutilation but to listen to the stories of survivors in their own words (through video), to see their photos, to see their clothing hanging in display, and to see the skulls and bones of those a few bodies of the over one million that died was overwhelming and life altering.

One of the things I read was about a little girl whose parents were killed, and at four years old, she was orphaned and had to sleep under a banana tree. And she was one of hundreds of thousands of orphaned children. At that point in the museum, I had to find a quiet bench, and just allow myself to shed tears of deep horror and pain. Hundreds of thousands of people were left with no families. Hundreds of thousands of people are orphaned. It was beyond devastating to see the reality in front of my eyes to pictures and to hear their voices. What stood out the most is that the world stood by allowed this and even more horrifying, even encouraged it with the help of foreign support.  

We always ask ourselves, "how could this happen?" once it is all over. Yet, we see this type of atrocity repeated again and again. The museum did a great job explaining about the propaganda that went on to split people amongst each other. The imperialist-colonists started it and after a barrage of media campaigns, over an extended period of time, the people turned against each out in a way that brought mass destruction. While I stood there looking at photos and reading the history, I could not  help but reflect on the propaganda that is going on in  in the United States of America right now.  What happened in Rwanda is happening in other places of the world. It is happening in the land I call home. The propaganda that is being spread a dangerous seed. 

At the heart of much of the propaganda was racism and entitlement. The wreckage of colonialism and imperialism in Africa, and other pieces in the world, have led to some of the most horrific catastrophes. Here in Rwanda millions of people died because a European country decided that they had the right to the riches of the land and wanted to separate and split the people into hating each other so that they would prosper in the end.  There was no separation of ethnic groups until the colonizers made it so. Then, once there were two groups, they were pitted against each other until we were left we a genocide so horrible that there are no words to fully describe it. We saw on display some of the clubs, hoes, and other tools that were used to mutilate children, women and men; people whose only crime was that they were labeled a different ethnic group by the Europeans. The end result was genocide and trauma for those who lived. There are thousands and thousands of people who grew up without parents and their siblings, and I’ve had to make their way in the world, Karen, such deep, brutalizing trauma.

We were fortunate to meet a lovely fellow, who helped with transportation during our time in the city, and he felt comfortable enough to share with us that he was 3 years old Genocide happen. And that’s about all he said. I don’t ask anymore questions and I did not want to pry to pray. And, I didn’t really want to know. I had already seen enough to break my heart over and over. 

We left rocks on the mass grave site, a Jewish custom. There are about one hundred thousand people buried at the museum site but so many more were left on the sides of the roads, in ditches, or in their own homes. I also read a prayer written about forgiveness for the world. We must be aware of the past, and we must do what we can to help promote healing in the present so that the future does not repeat itself. It is the least we can do if we are to ever walk in balance with each other on this earth.

When I go home, I will share these things with my two small gems and with those who ask my travels. We must keep the truth alive.

Return to the Motherland (Rwanda & Uganda 2023)

 

Several months back, my heart brother Vincenzo (Enzo) mentioned he was going to Mombasa. My brother is getting is Ph.d  in human rights in London and his flat mate kindly invited him to join her family at their Mombasa vacation home during their February holiday. Long story short, Enzo wanted to travel into Uganda from Kenya but was not familiar with the country and did not want to be a solo traveler. And that is where I came in.

Don and I spent 3 days in Uganda approximately seventeen years ago. We honeymooned in Kenya and then made our way to see the magnificent mountain gorillas in the Congo, via Uganda. It was a most remarkable journey, and with only several days in Uganda, I wished I had seen more of the country. Me being me, I stayed in touch with Ken, our Ugandan guide for all these years. When I approached him about traveling with us, he did not hesitate for a second. Fast forward almost two decades and soon I was on a plane bound for East Africa.

The first leg our our journey would be Rwanda. There we would visit the genocide cites, do some reconciliation work amongst ourselves. I wanted to sit in a place of trauma and hold a space for love and healing and forgiveness. As have thousands before me have done. I also wanted to see a new part of Africa and connect with the people of Kigali (unfortunately, this would be the only stop in Rwanda, excluding the drive to the border). The three things that always stand out about traveling are the people that I meet, seeing the incredible natural world that the creator has manifested in physical form and of course there’s the food. Having been fortunate to have spent time in Kenya, Uganda, a day in the DCR and Egypt, I was excited to check out another part of the motherland. As I sit here and work on my blog in hotel, on one of the thousand hills of Kigali, listening to the sound of a wedding celebration just outside my door, I know that this was where I was meant to be in this moment and yet they were a few moments of doubt prior to setting foot on the motherland.

The preparation prior to leaving were a little bit different than other trips that I have taken. I found myself feeling anxious at times, more often than I was comfortable with. Upon inquiry, I realized what lay beneath. I have left the family to go on domestic, sojourns, as well as to take care of family but to go halfway across the globe without my two small gems was the trigger of my angst. It seems the older I get and  the closer I get to the other side of this human life, the more I become aware that there are dangers. That I am mortal. The idea of leaving and going so far away from my most precious people and not be able to see them or get back if there was a need, it poked at me like a thorn. In my meditation and check ins with my heart, I knew that there was no danger for me. Otherwise, I would have heeded any forewarning. It was more about the letting go, leaving them and what that meant on many levels. They are individuating, as am I. My two small gems are slowly but steadily becoming adults and need me less and less.. And I, too, am individuating in a different way, as I age and move towards a different stage of my life. But as a wise sister-in-law told me recently, they still need me to support them as they grow.  And the truth is also that we need each other. That helped me to remember that the bonds remain no matter where I am and that divine order truly does run things. When the fear arises, it is imperative that I remain to trust; that Creator is guiding and protecting on every level, in every situation. Even when there’s pain and suffering there is a divine order.  Once I faced my fears, sat with them, I was then able to move forward into the excitement of one of my greatest joys; traveling. 

With these things in my mind, and in my heart, I now I’ll find myself in Central East Africa, listening to beautiful music and the sound of laughter and joy of a couple celebrating their wedding, just outside the door. I sit here, relaxed in my ideal temperature where I am wearing no socks and a tank top. I feel the breeze blowing in the air and I am happy. I’m enjoying being in the moment and there is a welcome anticipation of what lies before me as we prepare to move forward on this most fortunate and beautiful adventure 

Below are some of the photos from the first few days.

#12

 

Amara is a busy bee who needs physical exercise to be her best self. She also needs social connection with peers.  I am glad that Amara has always enjoyed getting outside and being active. As she has begun settling into herself more, she has learned that team sports is sometimes a better fit as it meets both of those needs. 

When the girls were younger, I tried to find a local soccer team. I did not want to drive too far and that meant there were not many options. So Amara's outlet was gymnastics after school for many years and cross country with Girls on the Run in her lower elementary class. That was not enough for her. She really needs to move out her head, into her body. It's medicine for her heart, mind, soul. The social connections of sports are a much needed added benefit. Amara is a social gal, who at this tender teenage age, needs that social interaction. Sports has been such a wonderful way to access both. 

Amara has been working on her soccer skills. This year was only her second season but we see improvement. We wish the coach would play her more to give her more practice but some of the older teammates have been playing longer (and better) so that there is that reality. But Amara is a committed and loyal person. She plans on playing soccer throughout high school. She loves her coach Manesh and has formed some nice friendships with peers. And she loves it when they beat other teams (they are in 2nd place right now!) 

As the mama, I am thankful that Amara is fortunate to have these opportunities and outlets for her to be supported it, to be challenged in and to thrive in. 

Ri Ri (Rio)

 

Havana, being the cat whisper that she is, had asked Don and I, for a very long time, could we please foster kittens. I was initially resistant. I knew that I would end up taking care of them. But she persisted. It went on for at least a year.  She wanted to have kittens to take care of, to nurture and play with. Finally, and in part due to the pandemic and it's impact on social outlets and mental health, I relented.  Through some friends, we found a local rescue foundation and in the beginning of April 2022, we fostered a feral mama cat and her 5 kittens. 

Kittens are adorable. They are also alot of work. And, we had a runt that was barely 5 ounces that we were told may not make it. He would have to be fed every 2-3 hour throughout the day. It would be like having a baby again. Havana had no idea the commitment she had taken on and neither did the rest of us. But she is a kid and so it was quickly passed to me, this serious responsibility.  And then there were the  3 others healthy kitties and a fourth who was a bit underweight but not as severely as the runt.

 I am not sure if it was that grim prognosis, given with such finality that triggered my stubbornness to prove it wrong, but I set my heart to making sure this little guy got fed like clockwork.  The girls names most of the other kittens but I named him; Rio. He just felt like a Rio.  And it was not long before I'd come into their room (they were housed in the back in-law unit), and as soon as Rio would hear by voice, he'd drag his teeny self out of the kitty pile for feeding time. Often, because I was working, the feeding went quickly. But he always got lots of kisses, pets and songs. I made up a lot of songs to sing to them all.

Slowly, very slowly but surely, Ri Ri (as I soon nicknamed him) grew. Within a few weeks he was several ounces bigger and he was out of danger. And by that point, I was deeply in love.

Let me backtrack a moment. Don and I made it VERY clear to Havana, there would be no keeping of any of the kittens. We had 3 cats of our own and did not need another feline in the house. But that Ri Ri, when it came time to adopt them out, I just could not let him go. (and the others would be adopted out in bonded pairs, leaving him on his own).  The mere thought of him leaving us would caused me to burst into tears. For days, I sat with this decision. In the end, I just could not do it. He had long been brought into the house (long before the others had left for their new homes) and he just seemed to fit in. And so it was, that Rio became our newest family member. And the girls, well they were long over the moon about this little fella and they waited with bated breath over my decision.

While the humans in the house adore Rio, the four leggeds are not so sure. Samson doesn't want to be bothered. Simba kind of likes him and there are times when he will groom him. Kai will also groom Rio but mostly they play around and rough house. Rio gets a little over zealous at times, causing Kai to sometimes try to hid from him. But Rio just loves to play, he loves to be with others (humans and cats) and he is extremely affectionate.  He purrs most of the time and it's a loud purr at that. He is delightful and sweet. Sweetness is his essence. 

Rio has come a long way since his teeny tiny self. At 11 months, he is a chubby boy. Amara says he looks like a cat but identifies as a dog because of how much he loves to eat (he steals food from humans), how he follows us around and comes on command.  He loves to play catch with air ties. You can throw them, he'll retrieve them. He could do this for hours. He does think he is a dog!! However he sees himself, I am grateful he sees himself, and we see him, as part of our family.