Gisozi Genocide Memorial, Kigali

Disclaimer: the upcoming few posts, mostly centered around the genocide memorials we're visiting here in Rwanda, might be graphic at times.  Please be careful reading them if you are in any way opposed to viewing detailed descriptions of the 1994 Rwanda genocide.

That being said, if you are opposed... maybe you should read anyway.
This is the reality of what happened here.
Although its hard to read about... imagine living through it.
And yet life goes on...


What a fine way to kick off our stay in Kigali: a second-day slap in the face by genocide.

Gisozi Memorial is the main genocide memorial in Kigali, and is home to a museum that tells the story of the Rwanda Genocide of 1994 and genocides around the world.

Much more than simply a museum, it is also the site of mass graves of the victims of the genocide.  It is the final resting place of a quarter of a million Rwandans who lost their lives in and around Kigali in the 100 days of genocide beginning in April 1994.  (That's only a fraction of the estimated one million lives lost in the entire country.)

Upon arriving at Gisozi, we were encouraged to wander the grounds and museum alone and to reflect on the impact of the memorial.  I began outside, looking at the mass graves, the incomplete wall of names of victims (which will never be complete... in many instances entire families were killed together, and there is therefore no way to account for every life lost... there is no one left to remember them), and the gardens surrounding the building.  It was difficult to connect with the reality of how many souls rest in this place, because the mass graves essentially consist of enourmous slabs of concrete raised a foot or so from the ground.

It was impossible for me to imagine the grand scale of a quarter million people dead without cause.

The gardens, aptly named things such as "Garden of Reconciliation," had a much stronger impact.  The symbolism incorporated into the gardens - concentric circles of rosebushes, flowing water between the separated gardens, statues of elephants to represent the desire to never forget - all tugged at my heartstrings.  I sat in the gardens for a while, trying to grasp the chaos that descended upon Kigali during those 100 days.

The museum is divided into multiple sections: part is dedicated to the Rwandan genocide, part to genocides around the world, and part to the child victims of genocide.

There is an abundance of information, statistics, and detailed accounts of the genocide, as well as smaller sections about international intervention (or lack thereof...), heroes of genocide, and reconciliation programs today.

Not only is there detailed information and analysis, but also much more tangible artifacts:

• A heavy chain and padlock, which was used to bind a man and woman together as they were buried alive.
• A box full of machetes, clubs, axes, and shotguns, all weapons of mass murder.
• There is a room full of bones and skulls, and a few had visible bullet holes or cracks - likely from a machete.
• One was full of clothing... clothing people put on in the morning, not knowing it was to be the day they would die.
• One room was full of photographs of victims.  Often, these were the only photographs families had of their lost loved ones, and they chose to give them to the memorial to be remembered by all who visit.

The most difficult part of the memorial was the room for the child victims.  There were large photographs of the kids (most would be about my age now had they survived), again often the only ones their families had.  They were displayed above plaques that recounted information about them, often such things as their favorite games, favorite foods, their best friends, their personality traits...

their last words:
"Mom, where can I run to?"
"UNAMIR will come for us."

and how they were killed:

• stabbed in the eyes.
• repeatedly slammed against a wall.
• shot in the head.
• machete in his mother's arms.

This is the reality of genocide.  Gisozi was difficult, but it was by far the most tame of the places we'll visit.  Tomorrow we travel to Murambi, which is the site of the massacre of over 40,000 Rwandans.  The bodies, preserved in lime, have been left as they were when they were killed.  We are told the smell of death permeates Murambi.

And so this experience continues.

All I can say is that despite the horror Rwanda has seen... life goes on.  I suppose that's all we can learn from anything.  Despite the worst... life goes on.