Ubumuntu – In the name of humanity

Ubumuntu – In the name of humanity

Thanks to my niece, who is interning in Kigali, last week had an opportunity to visit the final night of the Ubumuntu Arts Festival held at the Amphitheater Kigali Memorial. It was a festival that showcased art from many participating countries in the form of workshops, panel discussions narratives, testimonies and skits. It is an arts centrist festival inspired by and created for the sake of humanity.

Indeed it is a very innovative initiative especially for Rwanda where there is no theater. It is an avenue where people from different countries come together to learn from each other and be empowered to spearhead the healing process in their countries. In fact it is art that goes beyond entertainment. It is art that forces one to introspect, empathize and perhaps even feel ashamed at the realization as to how low a human can fall.  The participating countries were Ethiopia , Sri Lanka, USA, Lebanon , Egypt, Canadian/ Serbian collaboration and  the five EAC nations Rwanda, Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda and Burundi.

Since we had limited time in hand, could witness the performances of USA, Rwanda/ Sri Lanka joint initiative and that of Burundi, although would have loved to stay back and see much more. The moving testimony of the Burundian who was barely six years old, whose teacher Berita ( Bertha)  was taken away in a jeep , as she was a Hutu , right during the class. The head of the school came a few minutes later on to state that Berita would never return again. It was only when the senior children from the other classes started moaning, was the time that the child realized the grim reality. The testimony starts stating as to how being silent has become a way of life. The narrator then details the atrocities of the time and the adverse condition in which he grew. The narration was accompanied by ghastly pictures and questions on the economy. What happened to the cotton, coffee, cocoa, nickel and all the other natural resources? He questions.

Before this heart rending narration, there was a ballet presented by two young ladies from the USA. Breath-taking performance by Nicole and Cassidy named ‘Antigone’. It is the story of four orphans - two brothers and two sisters. Two brothers who fight for the throne and the sisters trapped between opposing loyalty. Finally both brothers die and the sisters are mourning in anguish.

In between the plays the announcer appealed to the audience to evoke the motto by addressing to one’s neighboring person ‘I am because you are, You are because I am. ’ It was a funny moment as the person next to me was an unknown Rwandan and we were perfect strangers to each other. Was reminded of the ad from Airtel, on the theme of friendship – mainly about sharing between friends -- 'jo mera hai wo tera hai’ ( what is your is mine, what is mine is yours)

 Yet the highest point of that part of the show that I saw was the presentation ‘Dear Children, Sincerely’ performed jointly by Rwanda and Sri Lanka. It was like a conversation across generations. The performance was in the form of three stories that were based on elaborate conversations with elders of over 80 years old who were born in 30s. This was that generation, which had never been exposed to the new technology. So the thought was to document some of these experiences and develop insights  about how they have seen their countries changing, what they understand on humanity, politics, etc so that history is not lost and the younger generation is connected to these struggles.  The format of the performances was that of street plays.

The first story ‘Seven decades deep’ outlined the era  of seven decades from 1930 to 2000 , wherein beginning  from Rwanda in 1930s and  Sri Lanka of 1940s , every decade was played as a parallel narrative story alternated between Sri Lanka and Rwanda to  portray the history  in a dance drama form. One of the revealing truths was that although there were a variety of subjects like the introduction of ID cards in Rwanda. Sri Lanka’s independence, the beginnings of the Sinhala- Tamil conflict, the story of youth insurrections, the Rwandan story of exile and the genocide, there were a lot of parallels between the two countries like civil wars, human atrocities, change in leadership and the resultant freedom of expression. Both are building institutions of democracy and there is struggle for something that is considered a given by the developed world.  The second story dealt with how the issues of marriage, sex and love were dealt in the past. The performance was subtle yet humorous in some scenes. The third story was about land and its place in our daily life.

It was a humbling experience. As our eyes met, me and my niece conveyed gratitude to the Almighty for having kept us in protective environs. Truly life does not give chance to some innocents in this world.

Anagha Hunnurkar

Sunday, July 19, 2015 

Kwibohora 21

Kwibohora 21

As Rwanda celebrates the Liberation day on the 4^th of July every year, it also reminds itself to be more resilient and advance socially as well as economically to acquire dignity. It is a grim reminder of the genocide, 21 years back that the people faced for 100 days until the Rwanda Patriotic Army took over and liberated them. It is a day of celebration when everyone wishes one another with greetings of: Umunsi mwiza wo kwibohora! Loosely translated as Happy Liberation Day.

On the eve of this day, we had paid a visit to a remote settlement in Kamabuye sector of Bugesera district as a part of the ongoing rehabilitation of the genocide survivors. It is in the eastern province and very close to the Burundi border. Being a poor country, although the Government does its part, there are limitations to the resources for rehabilitation. So various institutions in Rwanda do their might to support the rehabilitation of the genocide survivors by providing goats, school fees, medication , rehabilitating houses and many other ways. The fund that was collected by the financial institutions, this year was used to rehabilitate two houses which were in very poor condition. It was in this connection that we went to visit the sector and launch the houses that we supported in rehabilitation. One of the house belonged to a lady, well above 70 years old who lost not only her husband but all her eight children were massacred alive right in front of her eyes and she was the only one who somehow survived. Left with no resources and old age, she was very grateful that her mud house was now rehabilitated so that she no longer had to suffer the vagaries of wind and rain. The second house was donated to an old couple. As we were walking along the mud pathway  towards the settlement I was told that it was the current government who built houses for the survivors and that they all belong to different places but now have settled there. So basically the entire settlement was of genocide survivors.

The ceremony was short with speeches, ribbon cutting and testimonies of the genocide survivors. As I was looking at the audience I could but not miss that again here in this remote village too each one including children was wearing a foot gear be it sandals or shoes. The children were eagerly looking at me and waving as they could see that I was different, a foreigner. As the ceremony ended everyone joined the music for dancing in a circle. In a spirit of camaraderie I joined the dance. The women were so overjoyed that one of them hugged me out of glee. As I was waving good bye to the kids, each one wanted to shake hands with me. They were so many of them that I extended both my hands and in no time they all hugged me together. I had to balance myself, lest I lose stability and fall on them. True humanity is so pure and innocent. It does not need introduction and embraces humans with open heart. 

On our way we paid tributes to the genocide victims at the Ruhuha memorial site. Whatever one may have read or seen pictures about the 1994 genocide, a visit to any of the memorial sites leaves one forlorn. Even if you have seen picture, images or read about the genocide – what I mean to say is that even if you are in the know of it, one cannot but feel the remorse when one visits the memorial sites of the hapless victims. We were told that about 9500 were killed mercilessly with machetes, grenades and clubs.  As we entered the site there were skulls neatly laid out and thousands of bones that were stacked up.  A look at the skull and the teeth, one could tell that the people were young. Even infants had been massacred. There were coffins and even mass graves. Photographs of the innocent victims told a sad tale where entire families were made to perish.   In fact the coordinator told me that every year she visits the main memorial site in Kigali and is unable to ever complete the children’s section. She told me that infants were killed by banging them on the wall. Another story is that the innocent child was smiling at the slayer, not knowing what lay ahead just to be picked up and to be pounded in the mortar. Abdomens of pregnant women were cut while alive so that the unborn is taken out and killed.

She narrated that neighbors who were a day before sharing meals had turned killers in response to the call of the then government to finish off all Tutsis. Such was the insanity that even Hutus who supported, empathized or even tried to stop the killers were perished in the frenzy. As if this was not enough there are still statements made of genocide denial as if genocide had never taken place. It is in response to this denial that the sites are preserved by the local administration. We lay wreaths at the site and I said a short prayer for their eternal peace. I also sought a   pardon for I could clearly see that the innocent victims had been plucked out and were truly wronged. Moreover the survivors had not only lost their near ones but also lost in values, tradition and culture that is nurtured and passed from one generation to the other. This treasure they had lost forever. So many times we depend on our parents for support, relatives, sisters for sharing grief and joy. There are many here who are left all alone with no family to call their own.   Many of them were toddlers with nowhere to go and left to fend for themselves. 

As I walked out of the site I silently sought forgiveness of God and said to myself, really dear you have no reason to complaint for the wrongs done to you by people in the past. Those wrongs dwarfed in front of the agony that the genocide afflicted on millions in 1994.

Anagha Hunnurkar

4^th July 2015