Songs on the Mountain: Genocide Memorial Week

As we were walking to church last Sunday morning, I noticed broad white tents dotted over the field across the street. Other times, the tents have signaled wedding celebrations, but this time they housed memorial services for families throughout the community and the city, looking back 19 years.

Rwandan flag at half-mast on campus

The month of April--and this past week in particular--have been set aside for the nation of Rwanda to remember the victims of 1994’s genocide.

This is a different kind of Memorial Day from what I’m used to: no barbecues—no clearance sales—and no families that aren’t directly affected. The U.N. and Rwanda’s government estimate the total lives lost to be between 800,000 and over a million people—nearly the number of American dead in all the wars the U.S. has ever been involved in. We’ve heard first-hand accounts from men and women who hid in the forest for weeks, who saw their families die, who still might not know what happened to siblings or cousins.

I won’t add any discussion of the genocide, not only because you can easily look it up, but also because it's considered inappropriate for foreigners to sit around analyzing it. There’s no attempt to cover it up or ignore the consequences, but we aren’t from here, so it’s not our story .

I can’t pretend to know that experience—losing a loved one through someone else’s wrongdoing—although I can feel sorrow for the grief in my church family and regret that the rest of the world stood by as the genocide happened. Yet, Sunday morning’s service didn’t convey bitterness or despair. Songs, sung in Kinyarwanda, spoke of hope and love. Prayers asked for peace and strength for the survivors. I find the sense of unity amazing and comforting, especially in comparison to what so often comes out my own country.

As prayers went up that morning for everyone mourning the loss of family and friends and peace and community…I don’t know that degree of suffering or the demands of that level of forgiveness, though God certainly does. My own prayers are often for the people I love to be protected from harm and injustice. My renewed commitment this month is to seek out those who are easy to dislike or overlook and show them compassion.

Isaiah 1:17— Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed; take up the cause of the orphan; plead the case of the widow.

Most of these pictures are from our visit to the Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre. We couldn't take photos inside the museum, so please visit their website to learn more.