July 16, 2007 –
The drives through the Rwanda countryside were beyond description. Simply put, they’re amazing. I stared out the window on the road to Butare and watched the hills roll by… breathtaking would be a good overused word if I had to pick one. But it was really beautiful. The drive to Butare was better than actually being in Butare.
The drive to Murambi was just as nice. Same rolling landscapes of farmed land on the hills. We had a nice taxi driver named Bernard who doubled as a tour guide: “That’s the Prime Minister’s father’s house” and so willing, he was. We saw someone herding pigs along the road and he asked us if we wanted him to stop. We laughed and said no.
As if it was some twisted irony, one of the most beautiful places I had ever stood in my life was also the site of one of the ugliest moments in human history: Murambi.
During the genocide, refugees sought shelter in the school. But after the genocidaires found them and attacked, some 40,000 to 60,000 were killed. Now the site is a memorial, with almost 2,000 bodies, exhumed from mass graves, on display in little rooms. The smell was awful, the image in my eyes completely disturbing… I was hesitant in taking pictures. Bodies… some easily identifiable as children. Some with their limbs twisted, some with their bones crushed, many with terrified looks on their faces. I took only one picture. I decided one was enough.
Our guide was a survivor of the massacre. Can’t imagine what strength it takes to be able to take visitors through the area. But I bet talking about it and educating the public can be therapeutic.
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