Gikongora Memorial

Second day in Rwanda was a bus ride to Gikongora. On the way there, I asked the guy next to me where to worst of the genocide in Rwanda took place. He looked at me with an awkward smile and said "where you are going was the worst.." It was silence for a while after that and then he told me he would point out the place where his uncle, aunt, and cousin once lived. They had been killed and the house burned to the ground. A lot more silence. I really didn't know what to say, and I could tell that this had brought up some painful memories, as he told me that he lives only with his sister now. I did not need to ask what happened to his parents. We finally arrived in Gikongora and took bike cabbies down the hill to the memorial. The lady at the front of the memorial building lead us around the back, which I thought was strange because only old school buildings stood out back, while the memorial building looked very new and attractive and I was sure it had what I really wanted to see. Especially since there was a clear language barrier between us and the tour lady. I later learned that the school buildings are the memorial and the nice new building has never been finished. So it is empty. Out guide, the only person on the entire site, started unlocking rooms of the school buildings, and left the doors open for us. As I walked in the first room, I was caught off guard at the sight of about 30 bodies lying on wooden tables.

I'm not sure if the bodies are real...although I've been told they are and they sure smelled and looked it! Room after room, 25 in all are filled with these memories of the genocide. On the school grounds that we were at, several mass graves had been found. 50,000 people in total had been killed in this town... It was very moving. As we left, a man with a large indentation in his forehead escorted us out and in broken french and english discussion he told us that he was one of 4 survivors of this area and that the indentation was from a bullet wound. He had been left to die. He smelled of alcohol and softly begged for food as we left. He may be an alcoholic, but I can't even imagine the horrible memories that must still haunt him, and the pain he may be trying to numb....