Today was an immersion in the life, past and future of Rwanda. We started the morning with a meeting at our guesthouse with two Rwandan ministers: Rev. Dominic, who I met last year during a terrible layover that ultimately blessed me with a friend, and his friend Rev. Protais- a survivor of the genocide. Before hearing from Rev. Protais, we discussed the poem, The Toursist, given below to get ourselves ready to honor both the past and present. Rev. Protais told us his story of losing most of his family, forgiving the people who took his family from him and how he has created a peace program to bring together perpetrators and survivors. A story of sorrow, mercy, justice, and faith- his testimony made the trip to the Kigali Genocide Memorial even more meaningful and moving. The lessons of Rwanda: redemption, forgiveness, and love took the place of what could have been a day filled with sadness.
Following the Memorial, we headed to Rev. Dominc's nursery school where we met the teachers and his family. Since it is Saturday, only a few children came by but those that did were soon enthralled by us...and our phones. Their smiling faces were the perfect balance for the morning and showed us the bright future. After we headed out for a much needed and very late lunch of some of the best grilled food and countless waters and sodas! Tomorrow- up early and head 3 hours-ish northeast to Uganda, the Golden Monkey Guesthouse and our many friends!
Tourists by Yehuda Amichai
Visits of condolence is all we get from them.
They squat at the Holocaust Memorial,
They put on grave faces at the Wailing Wall
And they laugh behind heavy curtains
In their hotels.
They have their pictures taken
Together with our famous dead
At Rachel's Tomb and Herzl's Tomb
And on Ammunition Hill.
They weep over our sweet boys
And lust after our tough girls
And hang up their underwear
To dry quickly
In cool, blue bathrooms.
Once I sat on the steps by agate at David's Tower,
I placed my two heavy baskets at my side. A group of tourists
was standing around their guide and I became their target marker. "You see
that man with the baskets? Just right of his head there's an arch
from the Roman period. Just right of his head." "But he's moving, he's moving!"
I said to myself: redemption will come only if their guide tells them,
"You see that arch from the Roman period? It's not important: but next to it,
left and down a bit, there sits a man who's bought fruit and vegetables for his family."
They squat at the Holocaust Memorial,
They put on grave faces at the Wailing Wall
And they laugh behind heavy curtains
In their hotels.
They have their pictures taken
Together with our famous dead
At Rachel's Tomb and Herzl's Tomb
And on Ammunition Hill.
They weep over our sweet boys
And lust after our tough girls
And hang up their underwear
To dry quickly
In cool, blue bathrooms.
Once I sat on the steps by agate at David's Tower,
I placed my two heavy baskets at my side. A group of tourists
was standing around their guide and I became their target marker. "You see
that man with the baskets? Just right of his head there's an arch
from the Roman period. Just right of his head." "But he's moving, he's moving!"
I said to myself: redemption will come only if their guide tells them,
"You see that arch from the Roman period? It's not important: but next to it,
left and down a bit, there sits a man who's bought fruit and vegetables for his family."
Terrific experience.. As always now and always Mamaland Safaris Nous sommes Honorés, to be involved in Bridging whenever possible the Watkinson team.... amazing fire within whenever plans to meet close in..
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