Rwanda is a lovely country from what we have seen and the people smile and wave at us along the road. It is green and hilly, quite different from other places we’ve been. We know something about the country’s recent history, as anyone our age must – it is the site of the horrible Tutsi genocide in the early nineties. I’ve read about it, the Community Library has an excellent selection of books on the subject. But now that we are here we are perplexed. How could something so abominable happen here? The Museum and Memorial is within walking distance from our hotel, we can see it from balcony. We walk there hoping for something, anything, to gain some understanding.

In the relatively short time since the horror, this Memorial and many other smaller ones have been erected around the city and country. At the post office near our hotel I stopped and read all the names on a large plaque, the names so African: Innocent, Gift, Honor, Reginald, Finite. I am a little shook up when I get back to the truck. Rwanda wasted no time in trying to heal and with the help of many, the impression is that the country is doing what no other has done, learning quickly to live with its past. That does not mean it has swept the nightmare under the rug. Far from it. At the Museum documentation, photos, artifacts, and the actual bones themselves are on display so that all can know – this really happened. This is how it happened. It has happened before. It could happen again. Other genocides are presented, their commonality to Rwanda explained. While the genocidal process becomes clear, we cannot learn “why?” That short, three-letter word, can only end with a question mark.

The Museum exhibits explain how Rwanda as created, using many of the facets of local life and beliefs, a court of public confession and forgiveness and reconciliation. Some measure of relief for at least some of the victims has been accomplished. There are so many victims. Coming from the west, from America, we struggle to comprehend it all. The Children’s Room moved us to tears. The text explaining that older Rwandans were especially reviled by the murderers broke my heart. We took no photos here. We walked back to our room on sidewalks full of Rwandans going about their day. We took shelter under a filling station roof with dozens of pedestrians and motorcycle drivers when the rain came pouring down. Little kids said hi and everyone laughed about the weather. The Kigali Genocide Museum and Memorial is open every day. Take a walk to it when you are in Kigali, in the world of now. Remember what you see.