Hibiscus flowers in Rwanda are very shy. They bloom
with their subtle sweetness of honey, yet they do not
dare allude to the fact that ten years ago the streets
were ridden with violence, blood, dehumanization,
hatred, fear. Utter Chaos.

The hilltops in Rwanda are very secretive as well, for
they shine in bountiful green beauty without as much
as a hint that they once formed a basket of hell.

Joggers and regal Rwandan women too fail to convey the
fact that at one point in recent history health and
beauty was a luxury.

Yet entrenched memories do linger through the thick
humid air, jumping from hilltop to hilltop.
Occasionally the skies open up and tears flow. It is
this daily rain that reminds me of the sorrow
permeating Rwanda. But even then the rain is also a
reminder of life, sustenance and relief. The
freshness of the air after a late afternoon rain is
always therapeutic.

According to a survey, 99.9% of Rwandan people
witnessed and/or experienced serious violence or
killing. Memories pervade nearly every individual
aged over ten. Men, women and children alike
suffered.

It is this constant tension in my brain between horror
and disbelief, which often renders me at a loss for
words and analytical thoughts.

All I am left with currently is amazement.

Remarkable is the ability of those at the genocide
memorial to relive the horrors every day day so that
people can move forward in the hopes of preventing the
return of genocide.

Remarkabe is the amount of ingenuity, dedication and
hope that is required in the establishment of unique
forms of delivering justice. Although Gacaca is not
perfect, it is a beginning step toward reconciliation
and reconstruction.

Remarkable are the women's groups dedicated to
providing trauma support, job opportunities, health
care, and child care for those whose families were
killed. Thousands of women were left behind with
nothing more than sorrow, HIV/AIDS, humiliation,
trauma and even pregnant with children of their
rapists. Yet they are able to mobilize. Perhaps they
were left with no choice.

Remarkable is the ability of Rwandans to adapt and to
allow life to move forward.

I cannot try to pretend that I even begin to
understand the complexities of post genocide Rwanda
and the emotions of the survivors. Right now I am
only a sponge, absorbing information. I am not ready
to respond critically in any way, shape or form. I
think that it takes time for such intensity to sink
in. But I am ready and willing to be witness to the
enduring strength and perserverence of the Rwandan
people.

Yesterday, as I was standing on the street, a
canary-yellow bug landed on my shoulder. It had the
shape of a white diamond on its back. Initially it
startled me until I realized that it meant no harm. A
random stranger looked over at me with a smile and
assured me that it was chance, or good luck.

I smiled back, thinking in admiration and amazement
about the Rwandans who still have enough heart and
optimism to speak of luck.