Almost last thoughts.

I haven't been good about blogging these days, but it's really because SO much has been happening and it's hard for me to relate it all while maintaining the appropriate degree of anonymity required by this blessing/curse of internet searches. It's actually kind of frightening. Someone found my site by googling "israeli stereotypes backpacking". They proceeded to spend 19 minutes here, I hope they learned something. Another one got here by when he searched "Merkava tank" - now I'm assuming this is a He - and spent about half an hour here.

(Let's see what happens: HIZBULLAH BINLADEN ALLAHU AKBAR BOMB BRITTNEY SPEARS SEGOLENE LOVES ARABS.)

Right. So where was I? Ah, yes. Kigali has been insane. I am leaving here in 6 days, after being here for 6 months. I stopped working as of Monday, my adapter blew and I'm roaming the streets of Kigali looking for a replacement that won't blow and that will get past Israeli security.

Still can't keep up with all the things I have to/ want to do. I've had very little time (or willingness) to reflect on it all... I suppose you're expecting a long, thorough, conclusive, structured post. At least Dad is.

All I have is this:

(ok so the picture didn't load. come back later).

deliriously yours,
diala

I had to look up "polyethylene" for this post

The New Times, Rwanda's highly respected and only (*cough*) English language daily, reports that one can incur up to five years of imprisonment if caught with polyethylene bags (read: regular plastic bags). Now I don't think anyone has ever seriously gone to jail for this, although they might get fined (up to five million RwF = $9,000. Most Rwandans would rather spend their life in prison then try to come up with that sum).

But let's just take this law at face value for a second.

In Rwanda, if you (intentionally) killed somebody during the genocide and have confessed to this, you are sentenced to 20 - 25 years of prison. The catch: you actually spend only 1/3 rd of the sentence in Prison (7 years), 1/2 doing community service 3 days a week (and if full-time then only a quarter so only 5 years). The rest is on parole. So that's 7 years of jail, 5 years of community service for killing someone.

Think about it. Killing someone = prison sentence for owning a plastic bag + 2 years.

Conclusion: Rwanda cares about the environment just as much as it cares about ... Reconciliation?(I am being cynical, and if you don't get it I’ll explain this to you over drinks sometime once I'm out of here).

I’m serious about the plastic bags. They don’t check you for weapons or drugs when you enter from Uganda. You can imagine my disbelief, being used to Ben Gurion airport and all… (What? No strip-search??!). But they do check you for plastic bags and make you leave them on the Ugandan side of the border.

In case you were wondering,

I leave here on the 11th. I then go to Beirut and begin my long journey home, which may pass through Europe, a plan i have devised that will allow me to postpone getting a job for another few weeks.

Poison

Researcher: Let's hope that the State takes care of these security matters and keeps you safe.

Interviewee: I agree, but I wonder if the State can really protect us from poison?

Researcher: Ah, on that matter, I think God will intervene.

[Ok so this fragment is apparently misleading. Rather than revealing extreme cynicism on the researcher's part, it's a commentary on the fact that in the villages everyone always thinks theyre getting poisoned. If it's malaria, it' s poison. If theyr'e dehydrated, it's poison. They also dismiss anyone "from Kigali" telling them otherwise. This results in many unnecessary deaths and apparently, sometimes violent witch hunts. This is why the researcher dismisses the poison concern as a potential vengeance from genocidaires who now fear that their identities will be revealed by their former accomplices. Not sure that makes sense, but I tried.]

Rwanda Nziza

Happier posts, as promised.

Kayove, from my excursion two weeks ago:

never-ending banana plantationsTea plantations, on the way to Gisenyi
Lake view from Kibuye, 5 AM.

A month of gloom

My site statistics thingie tells me that my average clicks a day has dropped.

Just because I'm writing about death, genocide, and sketchy egyptians shouldn't scare you away. This weekend has been the beginning of the commemoration of the genocide, 13 years later. So we're bombared with images of dead babies and macheted moms. On saturday I attended the official commemoration ceremony, held in Murambi this year (the site of a massacre of about 50,000 Tutsis). Hundreds of exhumed bodies, contorted and almost perfectly preserved with limestone, are on display in every classroom. One, after the other, after the other. The public walked through them all after the ceremonies, they let little kids in, one woman with a baby on her back got pushed in the commotion and bumped into a protruding severed, chalky shin.

Watching the survivors' reactions to the site - many of which survived Murambi and were maybe looking at their relatives - and people breaking down, getting carried away by the red cross' "comfort committee" was enough to make me stay in all Easter Sunday. Ah, right. Happy Easter. Life, death. lifedeathlifedeathlifedeath. I can't think of anything meaningful to write here.

Well, I think I've just made a wonderful case for you to keep reading. Tomorrow, jolly posts I promise. And now I have to apply for jobs.

heated debate in the office, people yelling and others leaving.

La question:

In our reports, do we use the term genocidaires or former genocidaires?

People are getting really, really agitated about this. The bible is being quoted, gory genocide stories are recounted as arguments, stories of redemption and forgiveness as counter-arguments. It's still happening, so I won't go into details. But if you want to throw in your two cents, please do.

This isn't about reconciliation, it's not about politics. Morally, if you have killed once, and have served your time in jail/ apologized/ asked for forgiveness, are you still a killer? What if you haven't, but you have gone 15 years without killing anyone?

JP is arguing that you cease to be a genocidaire once you finish your prison sentence (10-15 years for Category 2 killers). I quote: "If i used to be a mechanic but am now a baker, do you still call me a mechanic?" "why permanently stigmatize somebody when we're trying to reconcile people?" (why permanently kill somebody??)
Here's another question: Do I cease to be a killer the moment I pull my machete out of my victim?..... is this conversation really happening?

Leonille, almost in tears: "It's enough we're letting people whove killed more than once go after only 10 years of prison, we're giving them a chance of reducing their sentences in HALF by doing community service and we're requiring survivors to forgive them. Now, you also want us to absolve them of responsibility and save them from the stigma of being called genocidaire when they're home with their families farming their land while their victims families still mourn?"

I don't think I could live in a country where these debates are happening every day and concern me personally.

Who is a Survivor?

Not as simple as you’d think.

A couple of months ago Liz and I had a visitor - a young man, a survivor – who had strange ideas about survivor organizations. He argued that in order to keep surviving, or prevent another genocide, Tutsis should stop organizing themselves into survivors’ associations, they should stop advertising their “survivor-ness”. Back then I didn’t quite get it, but a few months later his point is clearer to me.

As the use of the terms “Tutsi” and “Hutu” has been banned from public life, (We are All Rwandans now), the terms “survivor” (and there are some others, too) is often used interchangeably with “Tutsi”. The rationale: if you were meant to be killed and you weren’t, then you have survived. As the genocide’s purpose was to eliminate all Tutsis, any Tutsis still living who were here during the genocide are Survivors. It makes sense, really.

But today it seems as the term is being stripped of its historic reference – the genocide – and politicized. This goes along with the placement of Victimhood among the foundational characteristics of the “new” state. In other words, in post genocide lingo, “survivor” = mainstream, represented by the state and entitled to benefits and represented by the government. The survivor’s existence is the justification for the state’s policies.

The young man is right - while this identification is currently in favor, it may fall out of it just as fast and have devastating consequences. I would want out, too.

I forget. Here is why I started writing this in the first place:

I just got back from lunch with my colleagues at the ministry of Justice’s cantine. I don’t work at the ministry, but it’s right down the street from our office. We have lunch there everyday, and I have already learned that we can’t talk about politics, especially as my NGO is often criticized by some Rwandans for defending prisoners’ rights (genocide perpetrators).
Someone brought up Avega, which is the umbrella organization for the widows of the genocide. I apparently made the mistake of calling it a survivors’ organization and was corrected: Avega is “technically” not a survivors’ organization, but a widows of the genocide organization.

The clueless Mzungu: “I don’t understand. If a Hutu woman was married to a Tutsi and her husband or children were killed and she survived, is she not considered a survivor?” (many Hutus married to Tutsis were killed along with their spouses for their “treason”)

Apparently, that was another foot-in-mouth moment of mine, as I was immediately shushed “Not here. We’ll talk about this when we get back to the office”.

At the office now, but no one's talking...

Foot in Mouth.

Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as comfortable with political incorrectness as I am. Spending all my time with people like Paige ... and the rest of you know who you are... has skewed my grasp on reality.

Friday night I arrived late to a goodbye party for a Marine. The table was packed with Marines and US embassy people. I brought two friends that I was meant to be "showing around": an Egyptian and a Jordanian... Come on, who WOULDN'T make terrorist jokes?

Sgt. Thompson actually got up and left our end of the table, he said he "couldn't be listening to this, he could compromise his job"

Give me a break, we weren't actually going to hijack that flight to Nairobi! (planning something of that magnitude would require spending far too much time in close proximity with an Egyptian man - a scenario I avoid at all costs).

Right. I hope the Jordanian still gets his visa... and also, that he forgives me. I'm pretty sure his dad gave up on his plans to have us married [success!]