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Muraho! I have a few housekeeping details before I start.
I will not be posting any pics while I am here. The internet is just way too slow. I should be able to post every other day.
They are making me get a local cell phone, so if there are any emergencies I will be reached.
THIS IS A GRAPHIC BLOG…WARNING WARNING WARNING

I have been here 2 full days and it is absolutely wonderful. The house is wonderful the people are so welcoming and the
Other volunteers are so helpful and nice. We have done quite a lot in the last 2 days and I am not sure where to begin.
The room is not nearly as rugged as I had imagined. But the water is as cold as I thought it would be. But it gets warm in the afternoons so most of us have taken to showering during the heat of the day. I am noticing lots of differences between
Rwanda and US. And Rwanda is full of positives. And as I sit here I am going to save those for a different day. I have done so much in the last 2 days and there are so many stories. This story I wanted to share now because it is so heavy on my mind. Eventually I will get to the other experiences in the last 2 days so the blog updates may be a bit out of order. But it is more about the experience than the when.

I really want to talk about what we did yesterday. It was an amazing day. We went to the Nyamata and Ntarama memorials.
If you are not familiar with the stories of these 2 places I suggest you read up on the stories. I will try to post something
a different day. We started in Nyamata and I was ill prepared. As we arrived we met a young man 24 years old. He is dressed
in nice jeans and a sort of button down hip hoppy shirt. His English is clear but he is soft spoken. As you enter the church you see
clothes piles and piles of dirty old clothes. You see an altar in the front surrounded by clothes. Looking to the right are more
clothes. Thousands of articles of clothes. The church has a tin roof and high ceilings.. The walls are made of brick and the
pews are basically cement blocks with a piece of wood on top. The only light comes from doors and windows and the tiny
rays through the holes of the roof.
Charles our 24 year old guide stops us just in the doorway and starts to tell us the story of what happened where we stood.
He tells us as the killers approach the church they are singing “cockroach must die”.
The church had upward of 10,000 people in it. Each one thought in the house of God they would be safe. But the killers believed Mary has a long face so she must be Tutsi and everyone must die. They threw grenades into the church and no gunshots yet. They broke down the door and used machetes on the people in front. They lined up 6 people to make examples out of them. Cutting off ones arms and using them to hit another. Cutting off one head and rolling it into the church of people. They a smart man to a cement column and used a sledge hammer to pound his chest and head. Some offered to by bullets to be shot to save themselves from being killed by machete or grenade. Charles told us these stories very quietly and with a deep tone of respect in his voice. You felt his sadness. We continued through the church to the altar. A white cloth draped the altar with what looked like dust stains.
The killers took a pregnant woman forced her on the altar and cut her stomach open. They then took the fetus out and killed it…the stains on the cloth are her blood.
Stories of these continued throughout the church. Throughout his stories Charles would lower his head gently shake it and tell us you just can’t understand. And he is right. We can hear the stories and see the aftermath but we will never understand. As he talks you want to hear more and you want to hug him. You want to scream why did this happen. You go through such a range of emotions some you don’t recognize.
There is a portion of the back of the church that is only kids clothing. The pile is enormous. On the end there is a cross laid across the clothes. It evokes even more frustration of trying to understand why. Charles continues to tell stories of death and torture. He answers questions very politely and if the story is too much he tells us the story is long and he doesn’t want to tell it.
A portion of the church is underground. It was built in 1998. we walk down the steps to see a glass pyramid with 3 shelves. The top 2 shelves housed skeletal parts other than skulls. The bottom shelf housed skulls. There is a chamber built even deeper that houses a coffin draped in purple and white satin which houses a dead body.
on the bottom shelf o f skulls there is one skull that has the name Patrice written on it. Charles starts a story about 2 boys who escaped the church and hood in the bushes for 5 days. He talks of how they are friends and one is 8 and the other maybe younger. He is very sad during the this story but continues on. After hiding for 5 days Patrice needs food and he thinks it is safe. He leaves the safety of the brush and is killed. He is killed. The second boy watches and can not do a thing. He can’t do anything to help his friend. He is now alone in the bush and the story ends.
Charles is the 8 year boy. He is a survivor of the genocide and it changes things. The stories become more vivid and your heart melts for this young man. Your respect and love for this man grows instantly and you just can’t help but want to hold him and tell him how sorry for what has happened. You can’t help but want to do everything for his life or him. Charles eventually collected patrices remains marked them and set them in the special tomb. It is extremely difficult for him to tell us this story but he does and we are selfishly grateful.
The tour continues to the mass graves in the back of the church. There are 2 mass graves built there. To get in you step down a flight of stairs with the end of coffins in front of you. One coffin has a name of an identified person. Then you look left and right and your heart just stops. From floor to ceiling are shelves filled with skulls and bones. It is dark and dungy and cold down there and standing among all those remains you can’t even think. You can not grasp the reality. The remains are mostly adults. Children remains are housed elsewhere if they were even found. Childrens bones and bodies were eaten by dogs or the child was so young the bones decomposed. Some of the skulls you can see clear markings of how they were killed. Bullet holes, machete, beaten, crushed...you can’t help but play images in your head when you hear these stories or see these remains. And what one could even imagine I have no doubt is even close to the horror. But charles does and it breaks your heart. He continues to tell us you just don’t understand.
Oh and by the way the children were usually killed by being slammed against the wall like you do with a rug to get the dust out.
The tour is over and you don’t know what to feel or think. You don’t know what to say to charles but you want to give him the world. I tell him how sorry I am and I wish him the best. I give him a tip and think I have done good. He shakes my hand in a way I later found out was a sign of respect. I want to bow to him or something a hand shake doesn’t seem enough. Charles told us that he volunteers at church because owes it to his people. He feels a sense of responsiibilty to make sure his family (he lost his entire family except for his grandmother) and his people are not forgotten. We all say our goodbyes and we head off to the next memorial. In the car we are all in shock saying oh my god and I can’t believe this all happened and the things you say when you really don’t know what to say.
The gravity of what I have seen does not sink until the next day and even then I don’t think I have felt the extent of what is happening. To understand the sights, the smells, the sounds, the emotions and everything that went on is not fathomable.
I will never forget Charles. I will never forget what his voice sounded like. I will never forget what his handshake felt like.

The next memorial there are children outside playing this make me feel a bit more happy to see kids faces. There are 4 building and we are told we will tour 3-the church, the kitchen and the Sunday school room. This memorial I recognize from pictures because of the clothes hanging from the ceiling and a blue trunk. The memrorial has lots of the clothes piled on the pews, hanging from the walls and from the ceiling. The back of the church houses a shelf from floor to ceiling of bones. The guide tells us the horrors of what has happened there. I believe she was also a survivor but I think I was so taking in the 1st memorial that I did not connect with this guide.
In the front of the church there are shelves floor to ceiling of personal items, burnt mattresses, and coffins. In the blue trunk there are identification cards of a handful of the 40,000 that died there on April 15, 1994. we continue to the kitchen which only consists of 2 walls and everything else is burnt. There is a recognizable piece of burnt mattress and human hair in the dirt. Some people at this massacre will killed by being tied to mattresses and burned alive.
The next building is the Sunday school house. As you walk in it is small empty clean. There are cement pews built into the cement floor you scan the room looking straight ahead and then turn to your left and it is the most shocking thing I think I have ever scene. There is a stain on the wall about 3 feet by 3 feet. It is gooey looking and dark red/black. It is obvious what this is and you freeze. A lump develops in your throat and your stomach turns and you stare. As you stare at it you notice there are parts of the bricks that are worn and broken. And you question how many children were hit up against that wall to create a brick to wear or break.

As we leave the memorial there a 3 or 4 boys outside…I had made lots of friendship bracelets to give to the kids. I take out my bracelets and hand them to the boys and within seconds there are kids running toward us in every direction. It was amazing. Karen gave the kids mints. Stephanie gave one of the kids a pen. One girl in particular touched me. She was so beautiful and so in awe as I put the bracelet around her wrist. It was so absolutely rewarding.

I have so many more stories to tell you but this is the one I needed to get out now. As I typed it I had to put it in the you perspective instead of the I. I selfishly wanted to protect myself from feeling my sadness and confusion of what I saw yesterday. It did not stop me from crying all over or thinking of new questions or wishing I had hugged charles or so many things I wish I had done.
BTW I will most likely need to revisit my thoughts and emotions on some of these events so you will be hearing more of this particular day.