The horror of genocide

This morning I worked up my courage and spent several hours in the National Genocide Memorial in Kigali. I knew it would be a gruelling experience. 

In this place, the remains of over a quarter of a million victims of the 1994 Rwandan genocide have been given a dignified final resting place. While their remains have come from mass graves all over the country, the row of mass graves here gives them a name and a place of burial at last. The tragic work of digging up mass graves continues. 

The British based Aegis Foundation has funded a fitting museum to tell the story of the massacre. The foundations of ethnic hatred are traced back to the German and Belgian colonial eras when there was a racist fascination with ethnic difference and power and influence were distributed to differentiate. We see traces of this in the history of colonial empires all over the globe and many of the fomented hatreds live on in our time. 

The museum record makes it clear that the massacre was organized by the Rwandan government and had been in the planning stages for some time. The presidents of Rwanda and Burundi died in an unexplained plane crash in April of 1994 and this unleashed the violence. Perhaps more than one million people - men, women and children, were slaughtered in a cataclysmic explosion of violence. The sheer brutality boggles the mind. This was an intended final solution to the presence of Tutsi people in Rwanda. The wall of names makes it easy to see that entire families were killed together.

The museum goes on to cover several other genocides of the modern era - the Jews of Europe of course, the Herrero in Namibia and the Pol Pot regime in Cambodia.  Common factors are pointed out - the myth of a chosen superior people, danger of being overrun by 'others', the defence of homeland.

A visit to this museum is a timely reminder that we need to be on the watch for divisive ideology in our own countries. The United States is currently led by a person who has called all Mexicans rapists. There are many examples of dangerous thinking emerging in Europe. The monstrous side of our humanity is never far from the surface and it is good to be watchful for it wherever we live. Nuns and priests in Rwanda were convicted for participating in the slaughter. 

The only happier moments in the museum come from reading about the heroic actions of some people in saving innocent lives. 

The long row of mass graves

The list of names goes on forever. Whole families were exterminated.

I

Realities

As we rode along a dirt road in south west Uganda, I spotted some large earthworks and asked what was happening. It was explained that there is a lot of work available breaking rocks from the cliff with fire and chisels, and then hammering those rocks into gravel. Building materials are in big demand. A wheelbarrow full sells for $2. A small truck load fetches $10. There were many people involved in this excruciatingly hard and boring work, including women and children.

I wondered how desperate one would have to be to spend from dawn until dusk hammering rocks. My friend Alan, in training as a guide, told me that when he left high school it was the only work available to him and he settled in for a spell as a rock crusher. Ambition and good luck have since led him to greener pastures. It is hard to find work when there is no work available. 

Alan happily posed for this picture of him as it used to be.

Overland

In transit

After my extraordinary experience in the Mountains of the Moon, I spent a night by Lake Bunyonyi and had a lovely quiet boat ride, during which I was able to spot some crested cranes, the national bird of Uganda. A long jail term awaits anyone who harms them.

Then, I was dropped off in Kabale, a busy provincial town 20 kilometres north of the Rwandan border. I got a shared taxi ride and was soon at the border post, crowded with trucks and cars. Very few pedestrians were going through, especially Canadians pulling suitcases! It was easy to check out of Uganda and walk a kilometre over a muddy dirt road to check in to Rwanda. I had an electronic visa, which caused a bit of consternation, but before long I was headed out on foot into a new country. There was no sign of a place I could change money so I continued until I found a van that was pointed in the right direction. Passengers were loading and I was told I could pay when I reached my destination! 

We did not travel very fast as these vans have a 'speed governor' installed in orderly Rwanda and can not exceed the speed limit of 60 kilometres per hour! The van left when it was full and continued to get a good deal fuller as we proceeded. A knock on the metal door frame signalled that a passenger wished to alight. The 80 kilometre journey took two hours, what with controlled speed, many stops, limping uphill and the tying on of various kinds of baggage!

When we reached the crowded central bus station, I went in search of an exchange bureau. I had been chatting with a young fellow beside me during the journey, and while I was looking for money, he paid my fare! I insisted on paying him as he had told me what a struggle his life is economically. Imagine though, he was prepared to part with his money to help a complete stranger. This is what Africa is really like. It is normal and expected for people to be kind, neighbourly, helpful, polite and respectful. 

It is worthy of note that the two hour journey cost $2! To get from the bus station to my quarters, I had to pay $6 for a ramshackle private taxi! That journey took five minutes! The taxi driver had no English and had no idea where the guesthouse was. Nor did I of course. Thank goodness for Google Maps which works perfectly in the centre of Africa. I was able to give him very clear left and right turn signals!

Public transit

I have a new efficient and very swift mode of transport here in Rwanda - motorcycle taxis - or moto-taxi.  I remember seeing them in Bangkok but never used them. Here in Kigali they are everywhere, always ready, and the only challenge is communicating the destination! The maximum fare is 500 Rwandan francs - 65 Canadian cents!

Yesterday I moved about quite a bit on motorcycles. This driver was very happy to have his picture taken! You can see the passenger helmet hanging on his arm.

Western Uganda

I got up after a sleepless night and enjoyed an amazing downpour of tropical rain, preceded as always in Africa by a very strong smell of the red earth. No sooner had it stopped than the sun came out and off we set on a long cross country odyssey all the way to the western border. Uganda has been booming for some time. The population has just surpassed 40 million and I think I saw all of them today. The towns are brimming with life, a press of people, lively markets filled with beautiful fruit and vegetables and all the stuff of modern life, and traffic everywhere. The land is green, even at the end of the dry season and the soil is obviously very fertile as crops abound - many fruit trees, avocado, coffee, tea. Plant it and it will grow in this climate.

We crossed the equator on the way and stopped for a moment for pictures. A heavy lunch made me very sleepy! Finally, our destination, Queen Elizabeth National Park and a spectacular view over the plains to Lake Edward, marking the border with the poorly named Democratic Republic of Congo. The Ruwenzori Mountains rise to the right. Rain threatens as the long rains begin. The air is filled with birdsong and is very warm. This is a moment in paradise.

The phoenix

The Phoenix

On Saturday, August 11, 2018 I reach Heliopolis. Do you remember the story of the Phoenix? Every five hundred years, this legendary bird flies from deep in Arabia to Heliopolis where it burns to ashes at the Temple of Atum before regenerating from the ashes into a new life, ready to start all over again.

My first 500 years is up and I am about to go through this cathartic crashing and burning, only to emerge on the other side in a new life. Early Sunday morning I land in Entebbe, in Uganda, the Pearl of Africa and the adventure begins. 

Africa is where all our stories start. To the best of our knowledge (imperfect as it is) a small group of bipeds left the Rift Valley at the beginning of human history and peopled the entire world, giving rise to cultures as varied as Inuit and Indian, South Pacific Island and Aborigine, Equatorial and Arctic.  The diversity dazzles and sparkles through time. We speak the gamut of languages and design our own individual journeys from birth to death. Our stories are endlessly fascinating. There is no end.

My own journey has been chequered of late, what with disease, divorce and dislocation but I have a growing sense of calm and serenity as I approach Heliopolis. The road has been very rough in places, untended and unloved,  but now it is time to enjoy the open vistas and  the delight of breath. I am excited about this new journey. Planet Earth is my home and I love it, the seasons,  my family and friends and the freedom to roam and explore at will,  to make decisions and plans, to abandon them if they are futile, to delve in where there are opportunities. 

And so, until soon, on the other side of the equator, in the centre of Africa, the Heart of Darkness or the Temple of Light, take your choice. A new story starts.  

Tuscany

Tuscany

When we think of excellent food and wine, we think of Tuscany. Also, when we think of rolling hills, hilltop medieval villages, endless olive groves and beautiful scenery, Tuscany may come to mind.

One notices right away that obesity has not reared its ugly head here. People seem to eat a lot and often, but they do not end up wearing it. What is the difference? The crowded restaurants at 9 and 10 pm would suggest that middle age would show itself around people's waists. What are they doing that protects them? I know not.

Eggplant, artichokes and large ripe tomatoes delight me. Here, they feature in abundance in the cuisine. The choice of wines is sheer delight. I have had a predilection for several years for Sangiovese grapes and this is the place to indulge.  If you want to spend more money on your wine and sip vintages, look at Brunellos. You don't have to spend a fortune though to thrill the palate. 

Wandering the hills and villages brings its own special joy. There is a sense of history here, of a people prepared to defend themselves in clans and live high above the contagion of the swamps below. To be in a village which has been continuously inhabited for a thousand years and still thrives today in a new iteration brings a rare sense of continuity and triumph over adversity. So far from the tearing down of recently built malls and the notion of housing having a lifespan of 50 years or so. We could learn a lot in these villages that would serve us well as we prepare to survive the next millennium, Trump notwithstanding. 

Even in late May, the heat has to be handled with kid gloves, so to speak. And you will see gossamer like leather gloves, Italian made, all over the tourist areas! Rest in the middle of the day. The long evening lies ahead, another passeggiata and a delicious repast beckon! There is all the time in the world! Today is the best day to enjoy oneself.