Today Pastor took me for a tour around Ngara town. Mainly it was really boring, shaking the hands of important officials and struggling to understand convos in Kiswahili.
As an aside, Pastor wanted to take me to a fancy hotel where important visitors stay, the Africana. It was previously run by UNHCR, it was the compound where all of the aid workers lived during the Rwanda and Burundi crises. It was built of old railroad containers, probably close to fifty little yellow bandas with thatched roofs. There is an open air cafeteria with a stunning view of the valley. The place is in shambles. Vines grow out of the fireplace that used to cast a warm glow over the expats having a drink after a long day at the camp. I can hear the hum of conversation and see the cigarette smoke.
The grounds are beautifully landscaped with equatorial flowers and trees – but everything is overgrown and dilapidated. The grass is two feet tall, the hedges are bushy, there are holes in the thatch roof. It is strangely sad to see that a place once so vibrant is now so dead.
We then go to visit one of the district commissioners whose office is housed in the old UN headquarters for the refugee crisis. The compound is sky blue and white, with white rocks lining the spots for ghost landcruzers. We walk over to see row after row of container offices, a small percent of which are actually being used. It amazes me to think about what was once here. What was once the biggest refugee operation in the world now amounts to a bunch of empty railroad containers.
I should be happy that things have improved enough that Rwandans and Burundians can return home, but I am sad. It feels like a ghost town. This place was built around tragic conflicts, but we have deemed everything good enough, packed up and gone home. Maybe what is so haunting about this, is this feeling that things are not ok. I keep hearing whispers from researchers and journalists, keep seeing buried headlines about the storm that is brewing in Rwanda. Unfortunately, it would fit with historical trends. The Hutus and the Tutsis tend to take turns ruling the country, separated by mass conflict. Some of us wondered if the ’94 genocide was brutal enough, that there was enough lives lost, to make everyone say enough is enough. But, seemingly, some things go deeper.
There is a part of me that resents everyone who left this tumultuous Great Lakes Region feeling like the job is finished. Maybe they didn’t feel that way, just the leadership of the organizations. There is still critical work to be done. Reconciliation is the most important aspect of a conflict and too frequently it receives the smallest amount of time and resources.
After visiting the UN compound, we visit the one remaining functioning project from the crisis. Radio Kwizera, Radio Hope. At the time of the genocide, Rwandese were spread all over the bush and there was no way of contacting them about available food, shelter and assistance. They started a radio station and distributed solar radios to strategic locations. In Rwanda during the genocide, the radio was used as a weapon of war. It was used to dehumanize the Tutsi’s , to notify attackers of Tutsi hiding places. After the radio had been used to further the genocide, Radio Kwizera wanted to show the compassionate side of the media. To make it cliché – to use the radio for good and not evil.
The refugees have returned home now, but Radio Kwizera has not closed its doors. The station is received in Burundi, Rwanda and Eastern DRC. They are using their radio waves to promote peace and reconciliation. The Great Lakes Region is heading into a period of elections in every country. It is critical that people are discussing wide spread participation, informed voting, legitimacy and transparency, peace and unity. There is hope in this radio station. The mere fact that they are still here is a start.
It feels a bit trite to be writing about something that was so devastating to everyone here, especially when I was not. But, I am here now.
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