Truth and Beauty

There is a moment when travelling when your mind shifts from initial perceptions of a new place, filled with questions and shock and interest into the next layer of complexity—where suddenly what you observe begins to enter a certain realm of normalcy and routine, yet you begin to gain a deeper understanding of what is going on around you, or at least make valid attempts to.

I just spent the last few days in the countryside-partially doing field work and also to celebrate Liberation Day. Getting away from the organized, regimented, structured world of Kigali and heading out into the rural areas (where the majority of Rwanda’s 10 million people live) both simplifies and magnifies the complexity that is Rwanda. In one sense, rural living highlights simplicity; it is red dirt, hand-washed laundry drying in the sun, mud houses, jerry cans strung to the back of bicycles, groups of men hovering around a radio. It is small children wearing ill-fitting clothing, waving at the mzungus in the white SUV. It’s the livelihoods of farmers and village woman selling and weaving and chopping. It is the commonality that is Africa. It is beauty in its purest form.

While this lifestyle is simplistic by our standards, impressions are challenged by the complexity of comprehending this type of poverty and recent history—the daily survival and struggle faced by people that have most likely never visited Kigali, where a President makes decisions for a nation based on progress and forward-movement that the majority of Rwandese will never directly benefit from. It’s almost impossible to watch the gentle-natured Rwandese and picture their lives fifteen years ago during the genocide—the terror and fear they felt; the loss they continue to endure; the violence they witnessed and the loss of trust in their neighbors, communities and the rest of the world as we sat back and watched. And while their government strives towards “One people, one destiny”, there is an unmistakable sadness for that part of their history, and the pain is still very fresh.

Liberation Day commemorates the official end of the genocide when the RFP took over power in 1994. I spent the weekend at Lake Kivu with some friends, appreciating the quiet and also trying to wrap my head around what this nation was like 15 years ago. It’s devastating to think about. Truly. And even more perplexing as I watched the calming sunset over the lake, and how different Rwanda now is, realizing that on the other side, the Congo continues over a decade of suffering similar atrocities…and the chaos and horror faced by the Congolese due to corruption, greed, natural resources, tribal conflict, a breakdown in infrastructure and government–an enormously divided country in the heart of Africa awaiting any sort of rescue. And yet they wait…

For being such a tiny country, Rwanda boasts about its biodiversity…lakes, mountains, forest, volcanoes, plains…as it rightly deserves to. It is magnificent. So, I guess it’s a natural tendency to reflect on one’s own existence when surrounded by such a backdrop. It helped that the village we stayed in was well-lit by the full moon—Africa’s flashlight paving the way. As a dear friend mentioned before I left, this type of work awakens something in me that typically lies dormant in the States. I believe this to be true, and why I’m continuously drawn back to the continent of Africa. It allows me to see my own life with clarity and invites questions that are otherwise dismissed or ignored at home. In that sense, it’s a great privilege to seek that kind of meaning in my life. So yes, after a month in this deeply gorgeous yet pained nation, the cobwebs are once again beginning to clear…and I am opening myself up to the truth and beauty that is Rwanda.