Rwanda Genocide Memorial

Such a great memorial. Really lays it all out clearly, tastefully, and powerfully.

I actually found this much more moving than the holocaust museum. (Is it uncouth to compare genocide memorials?)

Among the hundreds of photos of dead bodies there's one that really grabbed me. It's of a man stuffed through the side window of his truck. His body is bent in an L-shape, his head against the seat. He didn't die this way, the indignity was put upon him after his death.

The main section of the memorial moves chronologically, and is beautifully done. By the end of it, I was pretty much spent. I'd gotten a little teary and figured it was time to leave. I walked back into the lobby, stumbling toward the bright sunlight, when a quiet-voiced young woman gently touched my elbow. “There is one more section upstairs,” she said.

I asked her what the other section was. “The children,” she replied.

Oh Jesus. Just put an icepick in my heart.

But when someone says that you can't just wave and say "No thanks, maybe next time." So I walked up the stairs.

On each wall was a giant over-sized photo of an adorable little kid. In front of each photo was a placard with a few headings: Favorite food, Favorite sport, Best friend. Some of the placards had Last Words.

And that was it. I lost it. I didn’t try to hold back the blubbering, I just kind of stumbled from photo to photo, tripping over my own feet. I was even doing those quick sharp intakes of breath. A total mess, I can’t even remember if there were other people in the room.

I finally got outside and figured this would be my chance to collect myself. I looked over a railing into a courtyard, and saw a group of Rwandans in formal wear carrying massive baskets of flowers. One man led them down a set of stairs and beneath a garden trellise.

I followed the group at a respectful distance, wondering what the official criteria for being a masochist were.

They carried their flowers and laid them on a flat concrete section of the ground. I could figure what this was. The preacher gave a short sermon/eulogy in Kinyarwanda, and they all walked back. I went over and looked. Like I said, these were some massive bouquets. Like six or seven of them. With names markered in capital letters on wide swaths of ribbon around the bouquets.

After that I just wandered around Kigali and smiled at every child I could see, and gave out way too much money.