Dream, Plan, Travel, Repeat.

Today, I visited the Kigali office of an organization I worked for in Washington, DC. In my former position, I spent so much time writing about the organization’s overseas programs and listening to other staff members talk about them that it was an incredibly gratifying experience to finally see them in person. I was so impressed by the neat, spacious, and bustling office; the warm reception I received from staff, and from the country director in particular, with whom I had wonderful conversations; and the focus and commitment of the many program participants undergoing different job training sessions – knitting, sewing, basket-making, and beadwork—around the grounds. So much of it was familiar—the green and orange logo that greeted visitors as they entered the office, the products made by the participants, the bulletin board with the employee code of conduct, and even a DC staff photo that had my picture in it!—and I felt pride in knowing that I had recently been part of this office, providing them support from the other side of the world.Also at the office, a program graduate told me the story of her life during the 1994 genocide. I’ve read terrible accounts of individuals’ experience in war before but it was particularly—physically—painful to sit directly beside a woman as she looked me in the eyes—or, as her brave expression and cheerful talk fell away, as she turned to sob behind a crumpled handkerchief— and told me about the horrors she endured and how, 13 years later, they continue to affect her present life. I’m not going to recount her story here, because it’s deeply personal and I don’t believe it’s mine to share with everyone on the internet. (I remember her saying that before she joined our organization, she told her story to other organizations who had promised to help her; she never received assistance and she thinks they used her story for their own gain.) Despite the difficulty in hearing her story, though, I am grateful to her; I think it’s a story that will stay with me for a long time, and one that reaffirms my support for my former organization. There needs to be a reaction, a response, to the violence in the world, and something to provide survivors with hope for the future.Later this week, I’m going to return to the Kigali office as well as to a satellite office outside the capital to visit additional programs. I’m looking forward to seeing and learning more.

I visited the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda today, the Arusha-based court established by the United Nations to try individuals alleged to have participated in the Rwandan genocide of 1994.Over two hours, I sat in on two different cases. In the first, the prosecution was examining its witness, a Hutu man. A thick curtain hid the man from the public to protect his identity. I only heard the last hour of his 6-hour testimony, but his responses to the prosecution’s questions were interesting. The man’s mother-in-law was a Tutsi, and he claims to have protected her during the genocide. The witness denied that he had participated in the killings (I imagine that’s common), but also – when asked by the prosecution how, given the witness’ claims to have been protecting Tutsis in the community despite the ire of his Hutu neighbors, he managed to survive the genocide—the man replied that, in those days, you did what you could to help others but you also had to show your support to the government. The prosecution didn’t press the man further, but his response gave me the chills—how did he “show support” to a government that was actively murdering Tutsis?In the second case, I watched a different set of prosecutors examining another witness, and was introduced to what I’m sure is only one of many difficulties in international trials. The main prosecutor was an African woman who spoke in English, and her questions were translated in both French (for other members of the legal team, as well as some Rwandans) and Kinyarwanda (the language spoken by both Hutus and Tutsis). The witness responded in Kinyarwanda, and an interpreter relayed his statements back to the prosecution in English. When I entered the courtroom, it was obvious that the prosecutor was impatient with the witness; the interesting thing, though, is that while the witness’ statements in Kinyarwanda were pretty monotone, the English translator’s tone sounded very defensive. Indeed, when you watched the translator in his booth, his whole body language was defensive—at times, he’d even throw his hands up in the air. I wonder if his English translations were partly responsible for the prosecutor’s poor attitude—communication is so much more than words and translations that ignore things like tone and body language can be incomplete.After an introduction to Rwanda’s past, I think that—pending a travel agency’s confirmation of my flight—I’m flying to the country tomorrow to see what it’s like in the present-day and, by visiting some NGO projects, what its possibilities are for the future. I’m very excited, and will be sure to update you all on my experiences soon.