Kwibuka

Kwibuka. To Remember.

Kwibuka is the Kinyarwanda word for 'remember.' It is the word used to describe the annual commemoration of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda.

I am in Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, and it is during the Kwibuka Remembrance. There are ceremonies, readings, vigils. Support to survivors. 100 events to represent the 100 days. 

In April 1994, the genocide started. For three months, 100 days, there was killing. Six deaths a minute. Approximately 800,000 people killed. 20% of the population killed. The primary weapon of choice, a machete--a large hatchet like knife. Everyone in Rwanda experienced it, lived it, lost someone, knows someone impacted. 

You see people with scars, you wonder, you do not ask. Your heart aches just thinking about it. 

My driver talks about politics today. The world is condemning the President who has changed the constitution to run for a third term. Have they asked the Rwandans their opinion? Is it is a slippery slope? My driver says he was 10 when the genocide happened. A sentence that stops your heart as you wait for what is next. He says they have peace today, they want to keep it. It is what matters to them and he thinks the current president can keep this peace. Why is the west meddling he asks?


I am here during the one week of mourning. Music is not allowed. No weddings. No celebration. A time to pay respect. A time to remember. 

Every day in the newspaper there are articles about the genocide. Survivors write testimonies on what happened to them. Articles document the details of the events. Commitments are made to ensure it does not happen again.

One article by a woman talks about paying the Hutu to allow them to kill themselves. It is a sentence you have to read, and then reread. Why? Why would you pay someone to allow suicide. It is better than death by machete. Better than death by a Hutu.

A painful, reflective week, but a positive one. Memories stirred, hearts opened and closed again. How can societies thrive, survive if they do not remember, If they do not recall and if they do not heal? How does one heal from such a scar? South Africa for example had their truth and reconciliation process, a process of confession and forgiveness. In China, author Jung Chang talks about her generation living under Mao. They are not allowed to talk about it, but they remember. Curriculum does not reflect the history. A generation bottling up experiences, atrocities and memories, when will it explode?

Today Rwanda is a radically different country. Developed and prosperous. One of the few African countries not reliant on donor aid. A clean, safe and orderly country. By remembering can they stave off any future conflict? When neighbor turns against neighbor, can you forgive?  

http://lgbexpress.ecolint.ch/humanint/therwandangenocidewhydopeoplenotwanttotalkaboutit (Photo Below)

Mara

       I had meetings in the Maasai Mara this week, so I decided to spend weekend in a conservancy adjacent to the reserve. The taxi picked me up at 6 am for my flight and we were instantly in a traffic jam. Yes, 6 am in Karen. After crawling along the road for 45 minutes, the driver said 'do you think you are going to make it?' That really calmed my nerves. We made it. Whisked into the airport, got my ticket and boarded. Always hectic in Nairobi.

       We landed on a grass strip in Siana Conservancy, a community owned conservation area east of the reserve. Stepping off the plane I could instantly breath. The stress of traffic, city, smog, moving all rolled off me. Coffee and muffins by the plane, it felt great to be back in the bush. I stayed in a lovely camp set in a valley surrounded by hills. It's been raining hard so it is very lush and green. This is an odd time of the year for intense rains, but weather patterns have been thrown by El Nino and climate change.

       Friday afternoon we went for a bush walk, which is one of my favorite things to do. Seeing wildlife on foot is an entirely different experience and it is a luxury to get out of the vehicle and walk in the landscape. I was cognizant of the buffalo tracks everywhere. Abraham, a Maasai dressed in a red Shuka (blanket) led us. He pointed out different trees and plants as we walked and explained how the Maasai use different leaves, bark and twigs for medicines and tools.

       When he asked us if we knew what to do when a buffalo attacks, some of the people in the group got a bit nervous. 'You should lay down,' he said, 'do not run.' Me, I knew I'd be right behind Abraham and his spear. During the walk we all kept glancing at the sky as it turned from a cloudy grey to a dark black. Some of the guests kept nervously looking up and saying 'perhaps we should head back?' I knew that the guides know the weather, they know the patterns of the sky. Just as the first drop fell, a vehicle emerged from the lodge and we were all inside when the skies opened. The rain was intense and as we sat bundled in Maasai blankets in the mess tent, it was lovely to watch.

       Saturday morning I awoke at 5 am to a dark, yet clear sky. Coffee mug in hand, driving across the plains with an orange sky as the sun rose--there is nothing better. Whenever I am in the Mara, 'god's country' always comes to mind. It is a place like no other. Even without the wildlife, the vast open landscapes, rolling hills, tall grass, an endless plain is awe inspiring. Breathless beauty.

       We saw a pride of six lions lounging on a beautiful rock outcrop, drying in the sun. There were two small cubs whose faces melt you, still spotty in color. Their tan fur was damp from the rains and they laid on the rocks soaking in their warmth and peering down at us with their heads resting on their enormous paws. Gorgeous. The mother, a striking female, sat properly on the rocks gazing over her pride. 

       Later we saw a spectacular male leopard hanging in a tree, a classic scene that is often shown in books, but rare to see. His belly was absolutely full and hung to one side, while his legs straddled the branch. An elephant walked in the distance and the leopard followed his movements. We had a lovely picnic in the plains and I chuckled as our Maasai guide, Issac, an amazing guide, whipped out his selfie stick for a photo. This was the first time I have ever been subject to a selfie stick and it was classic that it was a Maasai's. 

       Another walk on Sunday. It was myself and a Maasai guide. I enjoyed talking with him as we strolled through the acacia woodlands, to hear about his thoughts on the conservancy, Maasai culture, the struggle to make ends meet, to decrease herd sizes as the grasslands are over grazed, to incentivize conservation and to commercialize meet production. We saw Giraffe, eland, zebra, impala and elephant. We ended the walk with sun-downers on a rock called Simba rock overlooking the plains.

       Later I was driven to another camp where I had meetings the following day. We drove along the east side of the Mara Reserve, in a remote area. On the way we got stuck in the mud, really stuck in the mud. As we emerged from the vehicle Maasai started coming to the vehicle to see the problem. Soon they were gathering sticks, digging, pushing, jacking up the car to put branches under neath. Of course, I stick out like a sore thumb, not only a mazungu (white) but a female by herself in the bush, so the kids had a ball watching, touching and laughing with me. It was so very striking that these communities live next to Kenya's most famous reserve, a cash cow, yet, the children speak no Kiswahili, only Maa, a sign that they either have bad schools or do not even go, despite primary education being free. One girl, probably eight, carrying a baby on her back, her sister, spoke Kiswahili and a few words of English. Obviously, something is not working and if we are going to make conservation work long-term we need to figure out how to address these basic problems.