Pathos

Yesterday we visited the Kigali Memorial Center, which provides testimony of the 1994 genocide in Rwanda. Having read quite a bit about the genocide, I was quite interested in seeing the way it would be presented for Rwandans and for visitors from the world beyond. It was powerful-- the stories of pure evil and the stories of survival created a cauldron of emotional upheaval. On the one hand, the total depravity of man is proven beyond a doubt, but on the other hand, there are glimmerings of light that inspire hope. There is one room in the memorial where there are the battered skulls and femurs of victims displayed behind glass. The room is dark, but after a moment of adjustment, the faint images of murdered children projected onto the black walls become visible. I spent a moment in silent meditation contemplating how it was all possible.

I then realized that every person we meet on the streets that is over the age of 14 has endured some of the most unspeakable tragedy. It is a sobering and humbling thought.

Upstairs in the memorial are life-sized photographs of children, with placards displaying their favourite toys, favourite foods, and their best friends. I was particularly struck by the portrait of a young toddler whose best friend was his older sister.

The children memorialized as such were all killed during the genocide.

So many names, so many faces, so many husbands, mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, friends. All dead. Or all perpetrators.

What has amazed me the most about the Rwandan genocide is how the people have recovered. How people are living normal lives, living amongst the people who killed their loved ones, or living with the guilt of murder or collaboration.

Rwanda is therefore a model for healed ethnic relations. One of the mechanisms set up to promote healing are "Gacaca courts", or traditional village courts, modified to hear the crimes of the guilty and provide closure for victims. This is one of the only modern genocides to have such a rapid and thorough implementation of justice.

But there are no trite lessons to be learned. No "moral of the story". The genocide is simply a reminder that monsters lurk inside every one of us, and that it is only by the grace of God that they remain shackled.