Rwanda - 1994 Genocide

WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC

After sitting in on 2 small court trials of the Rwanda tribunal in Arusha, Tanzania, I wanted to tour a genocide museum or memorial in Rwanda. In 2003 this was not an easy thing to do. Most Rwandans had tried to put the past (the 1994 genocide) behind them. There were no huge signs saying "Look, the genocide was here!" There were only small reminders in select parts of the country. Even when I asked a couple of people if they could tell by looking at someone if he/she is a Tutsi or Hutu the response was always, "We are Rwandans."

To my surprise there was not anything like a museum or memorial in Kigali. My Lonely Plant guide book mentions 2 locations about 30-60 minutes south of Kigali. I asked the tourist information office in Kigali about this. The woman said there was a big memorial about 20 minutes north of Kigali. I told her I wanted to go. She said I needed to write a letter to some government group or organization. I needed written permission. She made it sound like it really was not an option for me.

Later while I was in Rugengari waiting to view the mountain gorillas, I met a New Zealand couple. We eventually discussed the genocide memorials. They said that they heard of a very big one near Butare, actually in a town about 26 KM west called Ginkorongo. It was not mentioned in the Lonely Planet travel guide but it was mentioned in a Japanese guide book. I thanked them for the information and said I would check it out once I got close to Butare.

Once I got to Butare I met a French woman, who helped me find a place to stay. It turned out that she was a professor. She came to Rwanda to do some research on the genocide. I told her I wanted to see a museum or memorial. She said that she knows a man who knew all the memorials in the country. He was staying in our same guest house. I should knock on his door and ask him. Later that day I ran into him. He gave me specific directions on how to get to the memorial near Gikongoro. The memorial is actually about 2 KM away in a place called Muranbi. I got all the information I needed and decided to head out to Muranbi the very next morning. The French woman warned me that maybe I should not go alone because it is psychologically very difficult. I was imaging Yad Vashem in Jerusalem but with visible bones around the grounds.

I took a minivan to Ginkogoro and began walking to Muranbi. The path was not straight. I stopped to ask directions 4 or 5 times. Eventually I hired a bicycle man to give me a ride the rest of the way. When I got off the bicycle I paid the man, gave him some banana bread, and asked him which direction to the memorial? He pointed forward towards the ghost town/abandon building. I really had no idea what I was going to see. With the help of the bicycle man I finally made it behind the first abandon building. Now I was on my own.

It looked like I was walking into a prison barracks but I was not 100% sure. There were metal bars that went around a bunch of buildings. This must have been where the containing fence was. There was also a big rusted spot light. It must have been used at night to watch for any prisoners trying to escape. I peaked in the first building expecting to find bones. I was trying to mentally prepare myself. I had no idea how I would respond. There was nothing in the room. I imagined it was a barracks with bunk beds and full of Tutsis in 1994. I moved on to the next room. Again, nothing. It was a little creepy being by myself. I started to listen to see if I could hear any ghosts of dead people milling around. Thank G-d--> nothing. I went into another building. It looked like it was where the toilets were. There were spaces for about 4 toilets.

Next I found a huge empty hall like a dining room for prisoners. The only thing it had was a dozen hanging ropes full of clothes. They looked like old clothes. I really did not think someone was doing their laundry here but I wasn't sure. When I got closer I could see the clothes had dust and mold on them. These were probably from 1994 but I still was not 100% sure.

The next building I went into also had small rooms. For sure I was expecting to see some bones. I crept around the corner. Again, nothing. In one of the doorways there was some writing. It said "Dark room, Cell No. ?" Now I knew for sure I was at a prison. I started wondering where the gas chambers were or where the shooting lines were. There must be graves around somewhere. I went in search of the dead bodies and shooting line. Each building I looked into I saw nothing. I thought there must be something otherwise the French woman would not have said that this place was so psychologically difficult. Empty rooms could not be all. Some of the rooms were locked but that didn't make me suspect anything. Suddenly I heard voices. I turned around to see who was there. Again, it was a little unnerving being there all by myself.

Two men approach me. One puts out his hand to greet me. He has something metal in his left hand that I did not recognize. At first I thought, "Is it a gun? Is it a weapon?" I reach into my pocket to get my Swiss army knife ready. I watched carefully. He must have seen my eyes looking at it. He shook my hand. I recognized the other man as my bicycle man. He must have gotten this man for me. I followed him. He only spoke French. I could not ask any questions. I did determine that yes indeed this was a prison for Tutsis. The man took me to a room I had not seen yet. It was one of the locked rooms. He used the metal piece in his left hand to unlock it.

Now in front of my eyes were about 30 corpses lying on 4 wooden table like structures. I could see skin stuck to bone. Some skeletons had hair. Some had clothes and some had teeth. I had never seen anything like this before in my life. It was shocking. The most gruesome part was the position of the skeletons.

We went from room to room with the same twisted figures. Some young, some old, some men, and some women. I took several photos. I could see where machetes were taken to some skulls. A child's legs were broken. They were split apart.

A woman's hands were tied together and she was looking back at them in agony. Several children's heads were knocked against a wall.

Room after room I saw the same gruesome images. I held my breath as I entered each room. I decided I should breathe deeply at least once. It was important for me to know what death smells like. I inhaled and almost gagged. The odor was repugnant. I was not sure exactly what I smelled. I know some chemicals must have been used to preserve the skin and bones and teeth, but I did not know what. It did not really matter. It smelled awful and it was appropriate for the scene. After about 10 rooms of dead bodies, I said I had seen enough.

The man showed me one more room just of dead children. I looked, I took a picture, and I said finished. I then took one picture of the entire compound, a picture of bones that had been dug up, and one picture of some graves with flowers.

My tour was over at this point. It was definitely more than I bargained for. I began to walk back towards Ginkorongo. Fortunately for me I met several happy children along the way that helped lift my spirits.

Zambia - Christian Prevalence

I traveled through 10 African countries and my experience was that Zambia by far had the biggest Christian following. This caught me completely by surprise. The Christian prevalence in Zambia was so great that I felt uncomfortable voicing any other religious belief.

My first experience with the Christian influence in Zambia happened right at the border between Zambia and Botswana. As I was completing my paperwork to enter Zambia, I met a lovely American family. This was surprising because the only other Americans I had met in Africa to this point were in the Peace Corps. This family was not part of the American Peace Corps but were missionaries. I ended up hitching a ride with them from the border to Livingstone, Zambia. During the ride they told me they helped the people of Zambia in many ways. One thing they helped with was education. They taught the people of Zambia to read. They showed me some of the books they used. The books were at all different reading levels. Some had lots of pictures and others mainly text. The one thing these books had in common was that all the stories were about Jesus.

My second experience with the Christian influence in Zambia was on the bus ride from Livingstone to Lusaka. It was a 5 hour ride. Five minutes into the ride a man stood up immediately in front of me with a bible and began preaching. I was an unwilling captive audience for what could turn out to be 5 hours of what I thought was a bible wielding Jesus enthusiast. After 10 minutes of preaching I went to the front of the bus and asked the bus driver to turn on the radio. At first he did not hear me. I asked again but louder. I told him I did not want to listen to Jesus talk. The bus driver asked me what was wrong with Jesus. At that moment I realized that I should just sit back down. The man preached immediately in front of me for 1 hour straight. Then the bus driver turned on Christian music for the remaining 4 hours. This is when I began to realize the huge Christian influence in Zambia.

My third experience with the Christian influence in Zambia was on my village visit with a woman named Florence. Right before we were about to eat lunch, Florence's step father asked me my religion. Based on my experience with the missionaries and the reaction I got on the bus, I thought it best to reply Christian. Of course I was extremely conflicted over this entire situation, but I did not want to have a discussion on religion. Florence's step father then asked me to lead the prayer before the meal. I kept trying to remember what Pa or Laura Ingalls would say. The only prayers coming to my mind were the prayers over the Shabbas candles, wine, and challah said in Hebrew. I did not think this is what he had in mind. I thanked him but insisted that he do it. He kept pushing me to do it. Eventually Florence stepped in and said one. What a relief.

My fourth experience with the Christian influence in Zambia was by far my most over the top. It occurred on my bus ride from Lusaka to Chipata. As usual Christian music was playing. This time I knew not to request a change. About 2 hours into the 8 hour journey the music became unbearably loud. I was stuck between 2 people and could not get out to ask the bus driver to turn the music down. Eventually the bus stopped to let a woman out. The kind man sitting next to me got up to help the woman off the bus. I and the woman next to me asked the kind man to please ask the bus driver to turn down the music. We saw the man talk to the bus driver but did not hear any change in the volume. When the man sat back down next to me, I asked what happened. He said the bus driver refused. I could not believe this and was very agitated. The music was almost eardrum popping. A rude bus driver required rude tactics. I put 2 fingers in my mouth and gave a very loud and long whistle to get the driver's attention. Everyone in the bus looked at me. Then I stood up and started yelling at the driver to turn down the volume. Once again he did not. People on the bus were beginning to get annoyed. Another man got out of his seat and went to the front to confront the driver. They got into a heated argument. Again, the driver absolutely refused to turn down the volume. I was now starting to get nervous that we were going to get in an accident while the man and bus driver were arguing. Eventually the driver pulled off the road and stopped the bus. Now several passengers were on their feet asking for an explanation. The bus driver said there was a reason but it was none of our business. The man who went to the front yelled back to the driver that he is also Christian. Christian music was O.K. but just turn it down. The music remained piercingly loud for another 15 or 20 minutes before the bus driver turned it down. Later I found out the bus driver's reason. There had been several bus accidents on this route. He was superstitious and was playing the Christian music loudly to chase away the demons.

In no other African country that I traveled in did I come across such a strong Christian following. Some countries were split between Christianity and Islam. Most countries however had varying degrees of superstition and unique beliefs which were followed by his/her tribe or village.

Asia - Elephant Rides

Besides a distant viewing when the circus came to town and also a few times at the zoo, I had never been up close with an elephant. While in Asia I rode on the back of an elephant, once in Nepal and once in Thailand. Both rides were unforgettable but for 2 very different reasons.

From Katmandu, Nepal, I stopped off for a few days in Chitwan Park, which is on the way to the Nepal - India border. In Chitwan Park you can pick several activities to do from a list. I chose to visit the elephant reserve. There I saw lots of elephants of all ages and sizes. One of the big surprises was seeing a male elephant with ...(cough, cough)...his privates hanging out. Hung like a horse has a completely different meaning to me now. Let's just say it's all relative. The elephant's appendage was about the length of me -- about 5 feet...no exaggeration. Yes, I can now say that I have seen an elephant up close.

Not only did I learn about the anatomy of an elephant, but I also learned about the differences between the Asian elephant and the African elephant. The Asian elephant is smaller overall than the African elephant. The Asian elephant has smaller ears, one "finger" on the trunk, and only the male has tusks. In addition, I learned that elephants in general do not have very good digestive systems. Because the majority of what goes in the elephant's mouth comes out the other end, an elephant has to eat approximately 300 pounds of leafy vegetation each day. In the picture in the upper left the elephant handler is listening to music and relaxing on top of his elephant, while his elephant grazes. In the picture in the upper right the men are preparing snacks for the elephants.

On my second day in Chitwan Park I experienced my very first elephant ride. In order to get on top of the elephant, I climbed up a platform like a wooden jungle gym. I waited for the elephant to approach. Once the elephant was in place, I stepped onto the wooden "chair" that was strapped to its back. The wooden chair never touched the elephant's back. There was a big cushion of blankets between the elephant's back and the wooden chair. Once everyone was situated, the elephant walked us through the park.

At one point the elephant used its trunk to clear away a low branch in the walking path. At another point we came upon a wonderful surprise. We found a mother rhino and its baby hidden in the long vegetation. The baby was suckling the mother. We also ran into 2 more rhinos. This time it was a male and female bathing in a pond. I could not have asked for a better elephant ride and animal viewing experience. Eventually we returned back to the large wooden platform and dismounted from atop of the elephant.

My second elephant ride happened during my Chang Mai trek in Thailand. It could not have been more different from my experience in Nepal. The big issue for me was how I was to get on the back of the elephant. The handler wanted me to step on the elephant's face just above its eyes. It had been raining the day before and everything was muddy, including my boot. I did not want to put my muddy boot on its face. I just did not want to do it. The handler tried to explain that compared to the elephant I was very small and the elephant would barely feel me stepping on its face. I was still having a hard time shaking the fact that I was to put my muddy boot on its face and step up to the elephants back. Of course I was the only female in a group of 10 guys. The group was losing patients with me. Finally based on peer pressure I stepped up.

Later on during the elephant ride the group got down to stretch their legs. I refused to get down. There was no way that I was going to step on the elephant's face again with my muddy boot. While everyone walked around, I hung out by myself on the back of my elephant. I do not recall seeing anything special. I just remember feeling bad for the elephants, especially since they had big heavy chains around their legs as well. These elephants had all been "broken in." This is a euphemism for they were tortured until they learned who was boss.

Since my 2 elephant rides in Asia, I have had numerous opportunities to view wild elephants in Africa. Although I am glad that I had the experience of riding an elephant, I prefer giving them some distance and letting them roam on their own terms.

Tanzania - Biofuel

In the past few years we have been hearing more and more about the need for alternative fuels. The reality is that we are starting to consume oil faster than we are discovering new sources. In other words, oil demand is outpacing supply. The development of alternative fuels is quickly becoming a necessity. One alternative that has caught a lot of attention is agrifuel, which is often made from corn, wheat, soybean, cassava, sugar cane, or palm. The truth behind agrifuel is that the cost associated with it far exceeds the benefit. Some of the biggest costs from agrifuel are:

• deforestation to make room for growing these crops
• starving developing countries of needed food
• increasing water use to grow the crops
• exploiting developing countries land to grow fuel needed in developed countries

There are many other alternative fuel options that no doubt have fewer costs and are overall more energy efficient.

While in Africa I came across an alternative fuel being used. Several homes were making use of biofuel. The source used for this biofuel was cow manure. A family's cows would be situated a couple of hundred feet from their home. The cow manure would be pushed to one location and mixed with water. All the big chunks of manure would then be tossed aside. The remaining liquid would flow into a pipe. The pipe would feed into a large underground tank.

While in the underground tank, the liquid would form a gas. This gas would run through the pipes running into the house. Anything in the tank that did not turn into gas would go out another hole and the remaining matter would be used as fertilizer.

Once inside the home I could see the gas pipes, just like the thin gas pipes inside of an American home. In the evening the gas lamps would be lit to provide light inside the house (see 1st picture above). All meals were cooked on the gas stove. I happened to have enjoyed a cup of coffee made on the gas stove, which was made possible by the family's cows.

Recently a California dairy converted its big 18-wheeler trucks to run on biomethane produced from the dairy's cows. The Hilarides Dairy was featured in a February 2009 article and YouTube video on wired.com.

Although I am no expert on alternative fuels, I can only imagine that there have to be fewer costs associated with other fuels such as biofuel, wind, and solar than agrifuel. Cutting down trees, starving out developing countries, and increasing water consumption can not possibly be the best solution to our oil needs.

Namibia - Hippo Encounter

In order to arrange a dugout canoe trip on the Okavango River, I camped at Ngepi Camp, a beautiful place located on the thin strip of Namibian land just above Botswana. This was a wonderful place. The camp sat on the Okavango River. I rented a tent and camped at the edge of the river for 4 nights. Actually my tent was setup particularly close to the water - maybe 20 feet away. Each night I had a lone hippo visitor near my tent. Unlike the first 3 nights, I became very nervous on the 4th night. On the first 3 nights I could hear the hippo swim and play in the water. On the 4th night I could hear it chomping on the grass. Even though hippos are herbivores, the jaws sounded very powerful to me. I told one man, who drove a big overland truck through Africa, about the hippo. I thought he kind of made light of what I was telling him. Eventually after talking about the hippo and continually showing my uneasiness, he came over to have a look.

His reaction...

"Jesus Christ. It's a hippo! This is f#?$in' dangerous. I'm sorry I doubted you. I thought you were some crazy tourist who couldn't tell the difference between a cow and a hippo. Sorry."

He insisted we start a fire so that the hippo would move away. He really did not think it was safe for me. He started the fire while I was in the bathroom. I could hear the hippo take off. There was a huge gush of water as the hippo ran away. I really did not want the man to scare the hippo off. I would have enjoyed the sounds of the hippo once I was in my tent. It was just the getting into my tent that scared me.

By the way, the hippo is responsible for the most human deaths by an animal in Africa. The hippo stays in shallow water during the day and grazes on land near the water at night. If a hippo gets scared, it darts for the water. Surprisingly, a hippo can run up to 30 miles per hour. Anything between the hippo and the water is run over. This is how many of the deaths result. I was well aware of this hippo behavior. I also knew that my tent was between the hippo and the water. This was the reason I was so uneasy, and I would not stop talking about the hippo until the man believed me.

Israel - Colorful Jerusalem

I flew to Israel during the month of April in 2003. My home base was Tel Aviv. I knew that at some point I wanted to make my way over to Jerusalem, especially since both Easter and Passover would be observed in the old city.

I took an early morning bus from Tel Aviv and arrived in Jerusalem around 1 p.m. on Easter Sunday. After finding a basic hotel inside the walls of the old city, I immediately rushed over to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre or also called the Church of the Resurrection. This is the site where Jesus Christ was crucified, buried, and rose from the dead. I did not know what to expect on this special day. I followed the crowds into the church. I walked around. I observed the ornate ceremony taking place, but I honestly had no idea what was transpiring. One thing I learned is that no one knows if Jesus was actually buried here or about a 1/2 mile away. At least that is what I was told by several people in Jerusalem.



After leaving the church I got lost in the maze of the old city. Eventually I made it to the Western Wall or Kotel. Before entering I had to clear the metal detectors. There was security all around. I was shocked to see how close the Western Wall was to the Dome of the Rock. This is absolutely crazy. I went from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to the Western Wall and then at a distance to viewing the Dome of the Rock. With so much conflicting religious passion within a small confined area, no wonder there is tension.

Upon exiting the Western Wall I got completely turned around once again. I ended up walking through the Muslim quarter and found myself at the Damascus Gate. Eventually I made it back to my hotel. This is when Jerusalem got truly fascinating. Usually when I travel I like to be out of my hotel shortly after sunrise and not return until sunset. This is definitely not the way to explore Jerusalem. Yes, there are certain places that you should explore such as Yad Vashem and Mea Shearim, but you should also leave equal time to talk to all the people visiting Jerusalem. This is a huge part of what makes Jerusalem so colorful.

Let me introduce you to just a few of the people that I met at my hotel in the old city of Jerusalem.

Greg, 63 years old, from Texas: While sleeping in his Texas home Greg received a vison from G-d. G-d wanted him to go to Jerusalem. He was to leave his family in Texas and go to Jerusalem for 6 weeks. His job was to walk the streets of Jerusalem. As long as he was walking the streets of Jerusalem, no scud missiles from Iraq would hit Israel. (Note: the U.S. started bombing Iraq on March 18, 2003). On April 21 I was part of celebrating Greg's 63rd birthday. On Tuesday, April 22, 2003 Greg was scheduled to return home to Texas.

Miriam from Germany: Miriam's mother is Jewish and her father is not. She made Aliyah many years ago and did Ulpan Kibbutz, where she eventually became fluent in Hebrew. Miriam works for the Israeli police as a translator. During my stay at the hotel there was an Israeli police bust. They were checking for illegals and Palestinians from the West Bank. One guy was escorted out and another guy was questioned for about 15 minutes but was eventually left alone. Although I did not think so, I truly had no idea if Miriam had anything at all to do with this.

Two dormitory roommates: Two women in my dormitory were Catholic. One of these women had just undergone some type of trauma. She spent most of her day praying in the dorm room. She sat on her bed and mumbled prayers for hours on end. When she wasn't sitting on the bed, then she went out with her female friend to one of the churches.

Grace, 37 years old, Arab: Grace completely embraced the Jewish faith but was finding it difficult to find a Jewish man to marry her. She was a bit depressed about this as well as very scared of catching SARS from foreigners. (Note: According to the cdc.gov website, "On April 22, 2003, the World Health Organization (WHO) reported 3,947 probable severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) cases with 229 deaths worldwide.") Grace gave me several pointers on how to find a man:

• Visit Jerusalem's Wailing Wall for 40 days straight
• Go to Amuka, which is a place that I can pray for marriage
• Enlist the help of a Shadkhan or a matchmaker
• Sit in a hotel lobby, looking pretty and drinking coffee
• Ask a Yishiva student to say prayers for me at the Wailing Wall for 40 days straight

I found her advice intriguing.

A female missionary in India for 15 years: I met a very kind woman who helped in India with food distribution and the creation of wells. This woman worked mainly between New Delhi and Agra. We ended up in a disagreement. She said the people of India needed food and water. I said they needed birth control. She did not believe in abortion or any form of birth control. She felt people should abstain from sex or face the consequences. I replied that many women are not empowered to be in control of their sexual activity. The consequences are hard, possibly fatal labor and mal-nourished children who often die before the age of 5 from starvation or illness. As this point I said we should change the topic, especially since this particular woman was extremely kind to me and all the people around her. I really did not want to argue with her. She spent the last 15 years of her life helping many in need.

A young American couple: I asked a young American couple why they were in Jerusalem. The young man told me that he had a vision from G-d. Prior to September 11, 2001, he saw a fireball chasing him. This was a sign from G-d to leave the U.S. and go to Jerusalem. He told me that the fireball represents greed, divorce, capitalism, etc. To his disappointment he was starting to see the same devilish behavior in Israel. I asked him if he planned to work to help make changes. He said yes but he had not gotten to that point yet. The young woman he was with agreed with him. She added that the U.S. and western countries oppress the eastern countries.

As you can see, I had one interesting conversation after the next interesting conversation. I could have continued these conversations for days. If you ever find yourself in Jerusalem, make sure you make time to ask the people around you, "What brings you to Jerusalem?" You will be amazed at the variety of responses. I feel this is part of what makes Jerusalem so fascinating and colorful.