July 12, 2009 -- Part I

As we trod the path to the church, I knew it would be difficult. The day was hot, just as it would have been during the genocide, and the trees offered shade to us after a long day of walking around Kibuye. I had known that we would be travelling there today, but that doesn’t mean I was prepared for the vast shades of emotion that washed through my body.

A sign shone like a beacon, complete with bright blue paint, commemorating the massacre of 1994. We had seen the church this morning, as we awoke at dawn to watch the sunrise. We walked all of two hundred yards to the church, and in the back of my mind, I wondered.

I walked to the front of the church, where a mass grave had been dug. There was a window from a smaller building that looked out upon this garden on concrete, and through the window stared at least twenty-five empty skulls. Human skulls. The skulls of the victims of the massacre committed at this church. I stared in silence, unable to make a sound as the voices of singing and laughing children filled my ears from across the way. The same sounds many of these people had made before the Interahamwe raped the country and entered the church.

We entered from the back of the church, and found complete emptiness. The stained glass shone with the light of the setting sun, and our footsteps echoed through the lines of bench upon bench. Thousands of people we slaughtered here. Thousands. Herded in like cattle. Thinking they were safe under the eyes of God. Thousands. Murdered. Massacred. Killed. Here. And there was nowhere to hide. Even if it were one person trying to hide in the empty church, it would have been impossible. It’s incredibly open and empty, but for the hundreds of benches that on Sundays—today—are completely filled with bodies.

Beautiful, devout, hardworking, terrified mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, grandmothers, brothers died here while praying for forgiveness and crying for a way out. Under the eyes of God. “Please, Father, let me not be Tutsi anymore,” came the plea of a little boy. “I promise I’ll be good.”

There are hundreds of churches like this in Rwanda, each with its own, distinctive past, and each filled with hundreds or thousands of human beings, beings who deserved life, freedom, and the right to feel safe in their own church and home. Hundreds of these churches existed, herding people in like cattle only to leave one or two survivors, hiding under the corpses of their mother for days, wondering if they were alive or dead. Breathing in the stench of rotting flesh. Flesh that was left in a building under ninety-three degree weather for months upon end.

And still people attend this church. Hundreds, if not thousands. How they found it in their hearts to forgive their brother’s murderer, found it in their hearts to forgive their failed God, I will never understand. These people are much stronger than I could ever even pretend to be.

We can not look away. We can not turn our heads and wait for another race of people to be eradicated. As I type this, the Sudanese government believes it can do what Rwanda did not. What Armenia, Bosnia, the Holocaust, and the United States could not do. They believe they can rid the world of the Fur, Massalit, and Zagahwa peoples. And again the international community looks away. Incomprehensible.

I’m not religious, but I said a prayer. I said several.

Amen.

July 11, 2009

July 11, 2009

Gacaca Day—

For those who do not know, Gacaca was originally a justice system to work out issues in cells and districts in Rwanda—issues that were not big enough to be tried in an actual court. You were tried by a group of your family, friends, and neighbours in front of a council, who would decide your fate. If unhappy with the result, you could appeal to the district level.

After the genocide, gacaca was reformed to try genocide perpetrators, because there were just too many to try in a big court. Traditionally, there are no lawyers, and each person must defend themselves and ask for forgiveness straight to those whom they wronged. While this sounds great in theory, not everyone is guilty, and if they have no lawyer, they have no way to win. I’ve heard from a few Rwandans that Gacaca is about 50% effective, but it is good, because otherwise no one would be found out at all.

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We’ve been waiting here for a while. Gacaca was supposed to begin at nine, but now it’s ten and it has not yet begun. Nothing is on time in Rwanda.

We saw the prisoners arrive, and it was very difficult to watch. They walked freely, unaccompanied by guards, clad in clean, baggy, pink clothing. It was the look on their faces that really got to me, though. They were tense, angry faces—though I’d be angry, too, if I had to be in one of the Rwandan prisons; I hear they encompass terrible conditions.

Lynnette and I spoke to William’s brother, Baker, for a while. He was a gacaca elder for two years, from 2005-2007, though he was born in Uganda.

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We just entered the trial room now at 10.30. It is a district level trial, which means it is for the more serious cases, and the room is clad in green, yellow, and blue, the national colours, with the usual photo of Mr. Paul Kagame looking down on us.

Basically, the trial was against one man whose name I don’t know. He wore glasses and spoke in a hoarse voice, denying any part in the killing. He was accused of killing two children with grenades, giving another boy to a man to kill, and teaching Interahamwe militia how to use weapons. He claimed that he was training Tutsis to defend themselves, but later said it was only two Tutsi, who were later killed anyway.

Next, he was accused of being at a roadblock, and stopping a car trying to escape Rwanda. Apparently, most in the car were killed, and then the Interahamwe stole the car. He was accused of looting houses. One person said, “Why would he have their things if he didn’t kill them?”

As part of the CDL, he held a meeting where only full Hutus were allowed. It is assumed that the meeting was about killing. One man said, “I didn’t see him kill anyone, but I saw him training people to use guns.” The man accused had already been tried at the Cell level, and was convicted for five years in prison (“What?!!” I said, “Only five years?!”)

So that’s the short of it—It was a very very long trial, and people kept basically convicting themselves, saying things like, “When we were at the roadblock…” and then the council members were like, “We?! Come up here!!” Thus, it was a very long process. We had to leave early, as it turned out, as I was going to spend the night in Kibuye, which is about a two and a half hour bus ride from Kigali.

However, all of the Rwandans I spoke to told me they believed him to be guilty—Fred, William, Kevin, and Rose all believed him to be guilty. If they were a jury of his peers, he most certainly would have been convicted. We never found out the outcome of the trial, but I will try to ask Jesse.

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So Valerie, Sarah, Jesse, and I went to Kibuye, while the rest of the crew headed to Gisenyi for the weekend. I had only planned on staying for one night, because I had to work at RAPP early on Monday, but I ended up buying a bus ticket for early Monday morning and winging it.

The bus took quite a while, and I was in the front seat with the driver and another, older, smelly man who kept invading my space. Bleh! But after that ended, it was fine, and we met up with a big crew from RAPP—Laura and her boyfriend, Philippe, Matthew—as well as others—Melissa from the US embassy, Kristy from Operation Stop World Hunger or something, and a couple of others who they knew from elsewhere.

We were half starved from the bus ride, and it was extremely unfortunate that the food took 2 hours to arrive after ordering. We felt very badly for the one waiter and one chef who had to serve food to at least five groups of people. I didn’t end up taking a shower, because the showers were closed by 11.30, so Sarah and I just headed back to our 6,000/night room (that’s 3,000 each per night—six dollars!! Yes, I love places run by nice priests!)

July 10, 2009

July 10, 2009

So, I took the Remera bus straight to rehearsal today (and didn’t get lost!!) and who was there at St. Francois but Alice for another human rights workshop! The nuns rent out rooms to different groups, and she happened to be there, too. I love her so much.

So we got into our new room and warmed up a little (1, 121, 12321, 1234321, 123454321…) in a scale progression. We played pass it drop it hold it pick it and then started rehearsing the intro market scene and here I am! They’re writing some music for the intro scene outside right now. It’s a song between Rwanda’s two cell phone providers, MTN, and Rwandatel, fighting over a customer—hilarious!

Later, the American part of GYC plus some of the Rwandan AJPRODHO folks will go to the Twa village. The Twa are an indigenous people of Rwanda, not unlike our own American Indians, and make up only 1-2% of the population. They were (are?) originally potters, and Flo, the Austrian guy we hang out with at the hotel says they’re, ‘small people,’ and used the word, ‘oompa loompas.’ I’m a little sceptical of such things, as I’ve never heard such a thing. He says, though, that during the genocide, the Hutu would pay them to rape Tutsi women.

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After rehearsal, I ran straight to St. Paul’s to catch the bus to seea play and then visit the Twa village. We picked up Jesse’s father and little half-sister, Vanessa, who is the most adorable half-Rwandan, half-American I’ve ever seen. She really kind of latched onto me when we reached the village where the play was to be performed. There was a lot of music playing and about a hundred children flocked around and danced with me and Sam and Julie. Vanessa grabbed my hands and wouldn’t let me go the whole time—adorable.

She sat on my lap for most of the play, and translated bits and pieces of it for me, as she understands very basic Kinyarwanda. It didn’t really help, but it was cute just the same. We left, and she and her father took the bus home, while we went on to the Twa village.

Te Twa village was very close, but the roads were terrible, so it took a very long time. Finally, the bus had to stop, and we had to make the trek on foot the rest of the way to the village. A lot of people were upset, because they were not wearing the most appropriate shoes for the walk—lots of flip flops, not so many sneakers. However, I was in sneakers and I was still having trouble, just for the record.

We met with the leader of the village, along with Dr. Carl, who works there with a bunch of foreigners working. They told us that out of 133 babies born, 67 were stillborn. The infant mortality rate in this village is at least 400x higher than the infant mortality rate in the United States.

Dr. Carl’s group is helping, though. They’ve helped buy the children shoes and uniforms so they can go to school, and supplied vitamin supplements and anti-worming medication. This equals 5 cents per person every six months, though they would use it a whole lot more often. The children’s bellies are very big, as they are filled with worms.

They’ve supplied the people with basic health insurance, helped them form a village council to address issues in the community, and built them their first latrines this year. Before, they would just relieve themselves wherever they wanted, which added to the problem of worms, hygiene, and cleanliness. These people earn less than $1. per day, and they are very much isolated from the rest of the country. Very few can read at all.

Dr. Carl’s group led a class on how to apply soap, and only one out of the twelve women knew what it was and how to use it. Even if they know, though, it would be very difficult to use, because of their lack of water. It takes at least a half hour to walk to the well, another half hour to fill a bucket, as they have to do it by the cupful, and then there’s the long walk back with a full bucket of water—on average, a trip to the well will take two hours ad fifteen minutes. The amount of water they have per day is well below the minimum for human existence.

There is hope, though! One Twa girl is the second in her class of 47, and another girl is in the top 5 of her class. When asked about the resources they had that they could use to help themselves, they replied, “We have life, health, and happiness.” They have the ability to love, they have the ability to sing, dance, and play flute. Even with the health clinic an hour and a half walk away, beans as their only source of protein, and the lack of water for their children, they find ways to be thankful.

Traditionally, the Twa people use the word, ‘Twa,’ to define themselves. The government, however, sees this as an ethnic term, and calls them the, ‘community of potters,’ which promotes classism, instead. They have been called the, ‘Batwa pygmies,’ by the colonists, which refers to them as small creatures, which they are certainly not. By others, they have been called the, ‘people who have been here from the beginning,’ or the, ‘people who were left behind by history,’ and it is certainly true.

There have been many times on this trip when I have thought, ‘wow, it can’t get much worse than this.’ Well, this was it. The Twa people of this village, even with the help of Dr. Carl & co, hands down have the worst living conditions I ever could have imagined. The people were more dirty than I’ve ever seen anyone, and the shoes they owned were only because of Dr. Carl’s project. We arrived on a day that they had lost another baby, and so it was a solemn day for the whole village.

The HDI desperately needs funds to help this, and the many Batwa villages like this one. There are two websites that you can go to to help. The first is http://www.coffeerwanda.com . This site’s proceeds go to the HDI, Health Development Initiative, which provides shoes to children with worms, vitamins and anti-worming pills so that they can be more healthy.

The second site is not going to be up until the beginning of August, but the link will be http://www.pygmysurvival.org and the proceeds will go specifically to this village outside of Kigali.

July 9, 2009

July 9, 2009

So I took the Kimironko bus to Chez Lando on my own this morning (I was only slightly terrified, really) and walked to RAPP where Matthew, Philippe, and Flavia (the girl who didn’t show to rehearsal yesterday) waited for me so we could head to St. Francois for rehearsal. We grabbed a cab and joined for warmups (‘telephone,’ which is like pass the squeeze, catch the leader, police and thieves, which was played with two scarves, the name game, and pass the clap).

Then at 9.30, we began rehearsal. We skipped the intro and began the first scene with the two leading ladies, called Soso and Zwena, played by Flavia and Jackie, respectively. Matthew gave Charles some ideas, but Charles later told us that the actors weren’t reacting well to his notes. Matthew said to ask them questions about their character, so they don’t get too sensitive. We took a quick break and then I introduced them to the grid.

I started it off, asking them to walk and turn at ninety-degree angles. This went on until Matthew jumped in and introduced speeds and weights and eventually giving them characters to be. I’m orry to say, but Flavia, one of the two leading ladies, is a COMPLETE DIVA, and refused to participate. Even during warm-ups, she did them half-heartedly, if at all.

However, everyone else is very committed and engaged. I find it incredible how they can act so confidently without a script. Their movements are natural and they always say yes as actors. I’m learning a lot from them. One girl, Kareen, is incredible, though she has a small role. As Soso tells the Boss about her pregnancy, the Wife hears at the door, and comes in screaming. The other actors really need work on this, but Kareen was spot on.

After rehearsal, Rose took Matthew and I to the Traveller’s Café, where Jesse joined us, and then we had a crazy long meeting discussing the script and plot. Once I returned home to St. Pauls, Rose and I met Cedy and Sam, who convinced us to go meet with a Rastafarian man named Mustang, “like the horse,” he said. Mustang gave Sam a necklace, called her his, “Rasta Queen,” and then we got out of there as soon as possible. I’m pretty sure he wanted to get, “Rasta nasty,” with his, “Rasta queen.”

Later, we went to a Salsa club with Rose for a while, but I didn’t dance for embarrassment—a lot of them, including Cedy and Rose, were incredible. Two friends of mine decided to stop working with HOCA, Rwanda’s gay and lesbian rights group, that night. Apparently, they felt their energy could be better used elsewhere.

That’s all for now!

July 8, 2009

July 8, 2009

Jesse came with me on the bus to RAPP so I can do it on my own tomorrow. I go to the farthese exit of the roundabout and look for either the Remera or the Kimironko bus, which I’ll take to the Chez Lando stop. (Lando is a man who housed Tutsi refugees in his hotel during the genocide. I believe they all lived, but I’ll research it better and find out.)

However, we’re not rehearsing in Remera, we’re rehearsing in a little classroom at St. Francois. Jesse drove me and Philippe there, because Rose had a meeting, and he also played a few games with up, including: Zip, Zap, Zop (which I haven’t played since musical theatre with Bob and Suzette) and pass the squeeze.

I met Charles, who is a part of the directing staff, and who kind of took over the project since Rose couldn’t be there. We had a short break before miming kitchen scenes, playing sculpt & clay, point & go, and another called, ‘heavy ball.’ There were five actors there when I arrived, and one girl, Jackie, came late. Apparently, they’re all getting paid 5,000 rwf a day ($10) to be in the show, and anytime they’re late, 500 ($1) is deducted from their pay.

It was truly just so much fun. I really haven’t played that many theatre games in ages, and it was great to kind of relive my childhood with HJT through them.

Now, Philippe is explaining the play to everyone, but I can’t understand, because he’s speaking in Kinyarwanda (in my DREAMS, I can speak Kinyarwanda). But I’ve heard the plot from Philippe, Rose, and Matthew already. It’s excellent, I think. I’ll summarize later.

July 7, 2009

July 7, 2009

Well, I began the day with Jesse, who drove me and Ramsey to the RAPP (Rwandans Allied for Peace and Progress) office to meet with Laura Hanson and Rosalia to begin our orientations. We’re basically interns here for the next two weeks, Ramsey working with Rwanda Knits and microfinancing, and myself working with Rosalia, Philippe, and Matthew (per Yale University) on their newest theatre project. The auditions are at 2.00 today, but I will be missing them, because of—surprise, surprise—the government!

Yesterday, we were supposed to meet with the Human Rights Commission after LIPRODHOR, but the HRC, being government-run, left Silas hanging for a while before flaking out and rescheduling for today at 2.45. We’ll see how that goes. I’ll be very unhappy if the same happens again, as I’d really like to be at the auditions, and it’s really not fair to Silas at all.

Apparently, we’re not sure whether or not we’re going to have a script at all for this show. In the past, they’ve not been used, and most plays have been improvised off of a set plot. Matthew and I were under the impression that at least parts of this script would be written, though we do not know who would be doing the writing, as neither of us speak Kinyarwanda.

In general, I would agree with the power of good improvisation. In my experience, I have learned the most about my characters in improv exercises (Shout out to Lisa Canto and Tammy Harper!) than anything else. This seems to be because pressure is off (lack of audience) as well as the fact that you can really ease into character and learn what they would do in certain situations.

Anyway, I guess they’ve made good use of forum theatre in the past, and plan to incorporate audience participation and music into this show, as well. They’re still working on the logistics. The show’s target groups are barmaids, moto drivers, domestic workers, and their bosses. It tackles the difficult subjects of family planning, HIV/AIDS, and sexual favours. In fact, I’m writing now, because I’m in the back of a classroom where Rosalia is teaching about HIV/AIDS and family planning. She is such a beautiful, vibrant teacher who simply commands the attention of the whole room when she speaks. The children, who are in their late teens, I think, really listen to her, speak back, and laugh when appropriate. You can see her love for teaching as she looks into everyone’s eyes when she speaks, gestures, and walks around the classroom. Even though I do not understand the language, I can feel her passion and power, and very much enjoy watching her do her thing. She says she doesn’t want to teach, but I’m not so sure.

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So we met with this woman, Hope, from the Human Rights Commission, and she was pretty much the most uninformed commissioner I’ve ever met. First, she said the HRC is not government run and that their only job is to “advise” the lawmakers, and inform them of human rights law—then the lawmakers can do what they wish with the info.

We asked about the phone tapping law passed in December, and she didn’t know, we asked her about the law concerning AIDS testing and mandatory sterilization of the mentally handicapped and she didn’t know, we asked about the law in the works to criminalize homosexuality and she didn’t know. Seems to me like the HRC is just a façade, used so the world thinks they’re moving forward.

Government run or not? You tell me.

In Peace,

Mac

July 6, 2009

July 6, 2009

So today, Cedy came with us in a cab to St. Paul’s and we had a heartwrenching goodbye before we both realized that we’d see each other later that day for his meeting with Sam and Valerie. So we both hugged, shrugged, and I boarded the bus to head to the LIPRODHOR office to talk to the organization president.

LIPRODHOR is a Rwandan human rights organization that has been condemned by the government on numerous occasions. The government sees them as an opposing political party, and often tells people that they’re promoting divisionism and genocide. However, with their collective energy and the help of the international community, they avoided being dissolved.

Gertrude, the woman who spoke to us, told us that the government really used the word, ‘genocide,’ as a tool to silence people. Everyone is so afraid of the word that if they believe an organization is linked to it, it will be socially as well as politically condemned. Because a law has been passed to punish genocide ideology, groups can be punished for expressing their ideas, even if it has nothing to do with divisionism or genocide. It’s an infringement on their human rights of freedom of speech and expression.

What really struck me was the fact that she said their phone calls, texts, and emails were tracked by the government, and for a moment, it really brought me back to the presidency of George W. Bush and his controversial act of tapping communication lines. Apparently in Rwanda, a law was passed in December that allowed the tracking of the aforementioned communication lines. Gertrude herself said that her phone and emails were tracked everyday. This certainly violates the human right of privacy. Talking freely is not something that is often done in Rwanda.

We talked to Jesse about this freedom of speech thing, and he said that he’d heard about certain disappearances, but he could confirm nothing, as many of these reports came from unreliable sources. Taryn mentioned that Flo, one of our neighbours, had spoken to her a bit about his views of the country. He believes that it’s all a façade and that the government is brainwashing the people, and all of the white muzungu only see the exterior of Rwanda and not the inner workings. For me, it’s very difficult to say.

We spoke to Gertrude about Ngando, which is basically a government-run class teaching, ‘history,’ to children, and she said that they select people to go there to be brainwashed. This is 110% the opposite of what we heard when we were in workshop with the Rwandan youth. Rose had said that she thought it was a great experience, and was glad that they were learning the truth for once. It was interesting getting a view that was not all positive. Youth are much easier to convince than adults, and it seems like they were all just taught from a young age the visions of the RPF. It makes sense, because they were so scarred by the genocide, that they’d listen well to the government that, ‘liberated,’ them. Personally, any government that is all aligned with one political party makes me a bit nervous.

Also, watching the Liberation Day ceremony, I didn’t really think anything too odd, although it seemed like a very military ceremony. Looking back on the photos, though, it looked a little dangerous. Granted, I like that their military is intervening in Darfur, but almost ALL of the photos I’ve seen of the Amahoro Stadium that day were of armed soldiers and a wild crowd. Hmm. Just an observer. Edy also got shoved by a police officer in the street after the ceremony.

LIPRODHOR apparently has trouble publishing some of their human rights reports. There are things the government does not want the people to know. This includes—and this is new information to me—the detention centre in Gikondo. The government will not allow anyone to visit or see this facility.

Furthermore, Jesse told me that today the Human Rights Watch had gotten their hands on a bill that had been passed in the Rwandan House that had very controversial matierial in it, including sterilizing people who had a low learning capacity so they wouldn’t carry on their genes—THIS IS HUGE. We were told briefly about this in our LIPRODHOR meeting, and everyone was absolutely disgusted. I have to go onto the Human Rights Watch site and find out that it is they learned.

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UPDATE: The Reproductive Health Bill (which HAS been passed in the House, but the Senate sent it back to the House for changes) will require mandatory HIV/AIDS testing for all individuals getting married. They will need to show their certificate before marriage will be granted. Next, married individuals will be required to take HIV/AIDS testing at the request of their spouse. Third, if a physician deems it imperative for a child or incapacitated person to be tested for HIV/AIDS, the physician may conduct the test without seeking consent and may show the result to the parent, guardian, or care provider.

ADDITIONALLY!!! The Rwandan Government will be obligated to, “suspend fertility for mentally handicapped people.” Forced sterilization is a crime against humanity and this provision goes against the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, which was ratified by Rwanda in May of last year.