Kigali Memorial Centre, part 1

July 8, 2008

[Caution: some graphic descriptions follow]

Julius set up a private tour of this country’s main Genocide memorial, and I was to meet its coordinator, Claudien, at 9:00 am. I arrived early and the armed guards, military men, confiscated my pocket knife. It hadn’t occurred to me not to bring it, but it makes sense. [On my way out late in the afternoon, I asked for “mon couteau petit” and it was given back to me. One of the soldiers was keeping it in his pocket for me.]

Claudien began my tour by walking me through the outside areas: the mass graves and the gardens.

There are about ten mass graves here, and when I ask how many bodies, Claudien replies, “Right now, about 258,000.” Right now. They are still locating mass burials throughout Kigali and as bones are discovered, they are reburied here. He showed me the area that is being prepared for more mass graves, three terraces down the hill from the main building.

I pretty much held it together, although I couldn’t help but wipe some tears away when Claudien wasn’t looking. (What I read about Rwandan etiquette is that public displays of emotion are not “polite.”) Claudien hears my voice struggling, so I know he knows I’m not insensitive.

The mass graves are anywhere between five by five meters across to about seven by seven meters across. I’m not sure how deep they are, but several layers, I think. (Rwanda is the most densly-populated country in Africa and land is used efficiently.) Several mass graves lie next to each other, each one a few feet below its neighbor. Each is covered in concrete and beautiful plantings surround the graves. There are no signs or other markings on the burials. The concrete slabs are remarkably clear of debris, and little birds and small lizards scurry over them.

There is one mass grave that has a glass-topped chamber that demonstrates how the bodies—often only bones—are consecrated. There are wooden coffins, and sometimes they hold one body if it is found intact; sometimes when many bodies are recovered together, the families choose to bury the bones together. Thus, some coffins contain the remains of up to ten people. Each coffin is draped with a purple “flag” of what I surmise is Christian significance.

There are beautiful gardens at the Memorial, several fountains, small pools, and many plants and small wildlife. In the center courtyard, there is a fountain in a pool, and at the center is an abstract sculpture of six human figures, a pair at each of three heights. Each of the pairs is touching foreheads, a traditional greeting of friendship here. On the heads of the two tallest figures, there is a metal bowl shaped as a traditional woven bowl made here. From April 7 to July 17 of every year, fire burns in this bowl to signify the 100 days of the 1994 Genocide.

The broad steps leading to the main building are shiny black granite. Across from these is a sort of amphitheatre, with a lawn and benches composing the other two sides.

As I was sitting on a bench looking out to this central courtyard, a child of about four years ran up to the fountain and studied it hard. After a few minutes, the child ran back to her mother and said very emphatically, “It doesn’t make sense! How can fire and water be together?” Indeed. That is a very apt metaphor for the Rwandans. The complexity of the continuing trauma here makes peace and reconciliation seem impossible, yet Rwandans live in peace.

Also from this bench, I notice the Kigali Memorial Centre signage on the building. It’s very beautiful. The letters are cut from metal and are offset a few inches from the building wall. The color of the metal shifts from a silvery grey to a warm cream depending on the angle from which you view it. But it’s the “k” that commands my attention. I don’t know the font exactly and Doc Design seems like a million years ago, but it is a serif font, all lower case. But that “k”. The downstroke, the part that sweeps down and to the right—normally the last stroke of the letter—is the shape of a panga, a machete. It is subtle, but clearly an adaption to the font. In Western eyes, this traditional farming implement seems to be the symbol of the destruction and bloodshed of those terrible days.

After the outside tour, Claudien pointed me toward the beginning of the self-paced tour through the interior exhibits. There are two floors: the first presents Rwandan history and then proceeds through the Genocide; the second presents information about other genocides, and there is a memorial to the children who were lost in the Genocide.

The exhibits are Western style, with large images that dominate a wall which is overlaid with visual and textual information. There are some artifacts as well as some brief videos. All the information is in Kinyarwandan, French, and English. The sections were divided by Rwandan history, both pre-colonial and colonial. (I hadn’t read yet that prior to Western influence, Rwanda had 11 clans, with Hutu and Tutsi signifying fluid economic status across clans. Interesting.) Other sections included the lead-up to the Genocide, several panels on the events of those 100 days, the aftermath, the long-term consequences (which focused mainly on Genocidal rape against women and HIV/AIDS as a weapon of genocide), propaganda, the world’s reaction to the Genocide, resistance, heroes who hid and otherwise protected Tutsis, and justice. Interestingly, the material did not single out the United States in any part, not did the material include anything about Paul Kagame, the leader of the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) which engaged in a war with the Hutu government to end the Genocide; Kagame is now the Rwandan president.

Also on the first floor are the two stained glass windows made by the son of a Holocaust survivor. They depict the descent into Genocide and the aftermath. At several points in the exhibit, there are places to exit to a sunny balcony outside and then re-enter.

At several points during my slow progress through the exhibits, Claudien finds me to ask if everything is clear. I answer that it is. He does not ask if I understand, and I do not. He does not ask if I have any questions, and I have many, most of which are unanswerable.

The second floor presents the concept and origins of the word “genocide.” (In Kinyarwandan, this word is spelled “jenocide.” I am thankful that Julius added the íe to my name.) The other genocides included in this exhibit are Cambodia, Bosnia, the Holocaust, Armenia, and the Hereros of Namibia. This material does not attempt to be all-inclusive; rather, it provides a sampling of mass tragedies. There is also a panel on genocide prevention.

The last of the inside exhibits is in several small, connecting rooms that are painted a deep, golden yellow. The exhibits in these rooms memorialize just a few of the many children who were killed in the Genocide.

In the first few rooms, there are large photographs, maybe three by five feet, of one or two children with his or her name across the top. Near each photo are a few facts about that child.

The plaques read like this:
--Name
--Age (15 months to 15 years)
--Favorite food, drink, toy (chips with mayonnaise, meat, chocolate; mother’s milk, Fanta, tea; doll, truck)
--Best friend (sister, friend’s name, father, auntie)
--Personality (liked to talk to her older brother; liked to play with his friends; good in school; a small, weak baby who cried a lot)
--Last words (“UNAMIR will come for us”; “Mum, where can I run?” and “Pray”) or last sight (his mother dying)
--And the last fact is how the child died (gunshot to the head, machete, torture, grenade thrown into the child’s bathroom, machete in his mother’s arms, crushed against a tree)

The exhibit concludes with a place to hang other children’s photos.

The Memorial Centre is run on donations and it has a terrific web site: http://www.kigalimemorialcentre.org/