This morning we drove from northern Rwanda to Kigale, it's capital. Some of our group headed straight to the airport but several of us went to the Genocide Center Memorial. This was my third trip to this remarkable "museum". The Memorial explores all aspects of the Rwandan genocide but also addresses other genocides in history. The Memorial grounds also serve as a burial ground for genocide victims--it is a Memorial, a museum, a garden and a cemetery all wrapped up in one. It is boldly graphic but not overdone. I cannot imagine anyone experiencing this place without being profoundly moved. I intentionally avoided visiting on my third trip here because I find it so disturbing. I did not hesitate to take Alex, however. I firmly believe that stretching your soul once in a while is essential. We also need an occasional reminder of how truly fortunate we are. Traveling in the
"Third World" (I believe, "low-resource" country, is currently PC) for 12 days and then finishing at the Memorial is a huge dose of medication.
The irony is that my downward-spiralling heart flip-flopped 180 degrees when, after finishing the Memorial visit, I was thrilled to meet my friend Bosco in the parking lot. Bosco was my colposcopy assistant and data manager during my previous trips to Kigali. Bosco may be the nicest person on the planet. We became good friends. He followed my "Care Page" last year and sent me encouraging notes. Bosco was going to school in the Congo when the genocide happened. He lost three sisters and numerous other relatives. Nonetheless, he is a happy, cheerful person. He is exceptionally bright and fluent in English, French, Kinyarwanda and Microsoft Office. He inspires me.
When I was last in Rwanda in 2007, his wife was pregnant with their first child. Since then his daughter, Inessa, was born and 18 months later his son, Declan, was delivered. I had only seen pictures. We went to lunch and a relative dropped off his kids. He had previously written me that he wanted me to be the first "muzungu" (a mostly-affectionate term here for white persons) to shake hands with his kids.
They showed up in their Sunday best. Declan was initially a bit scared to get shoved into the arms of a white person, but Inessa was unfazed and very interested in my iPad. I know one word in Kinyarwanda--"witwande", which means "what is your name?". I said "witwande" to the little girl and she immediately responded, "Inessa"! Talk about pulling at your heart strings.
Eventually, Alex got both the kids playing Skee-ball on my iPhone. Steve Jobs should have had a film crew there! I was also very impressed with Alex's innate parenting skills. We had a great two hour visit. I will miss them.
It has been a fabulous trip, but once I again I realize there is no place like home.
WCB
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