Last night I attended a presentation hosted by U of A’s School of Public Health. I had received information about the event on my email a few days ago and I knew that the talk was going to be about some sort of collaboration between the U of A’s Green and Gold Community Garden, located at south campus, and some NGO in Rwanda. Prior to the talk, I had learnt from the garden's website that all proceeds from the sale of produce grown there goes to support this particular NGO.
Being a former Global Health master’s student, I have gone to dozens and dozens of these types of “community development” presentations, and to be honest, over exposure can lead to a certain level of desensitization to matters that should otherwise be heart breaking for a person with a normal functioning sense of empathy.
So half heartedly and cynically I went, yet minutes into the presentation, I could not help but be drawn into the presenter’s touching personal story and be moved by his love for his country, a place known as “the Switzerland of Africa”, and what he describes as a beautiful land of a thousand hills.
Eloge Butera, the speaker, was only 10 when the 100-days genocide broke out, during which the brutal ethnically-fueled attacks led to the slaughter of nearly one million of his Tutsi countrymen, among which included his best friend, his father, and up to 100 members of his extended family. During this time his mother did her best to provide for her three kids and to keep them safe, and but years later when the post-genocide tension and volatility did not subside, she decided to send her eldest son, Eloge, alone to Canada in hopes of a brighter future for him. Now 26, not only does his future seem bright, he also seems to be a man that knows his purpose in life. Other than being an international law student at McGill University, Eloge has been a passionate spokesperson for human rights and has also been working tirelessly to garner awareness and support for his mother’s NGO, Tubahumurize, a technical training and counseling centre in Kigali that provides education and rehabilitation to women whom have been victims of gender-based violence, war and genocide.
Eloge spoke poignantly about many things that I found to be foreign and incomprehensible. He spoke of the fear, distrust and anguish that many Rwandans feel when they still have to live side by side with neighbours that might have been responsible for the death of their family members. He spoke of the indignation that one feels when one's government is doing little to bring the perpetrators of genocide to justice. (Although he did recognize the challenge of trying to administer justice when the number of perpetrators are in the tens and even hundreds of thousands.)
He also spoke of the intense feelings of turmoil and disbelief in his own survival that have regularly engulfed him in the years following the killings. "Right after it happened, you think that everyone is dead and soon you will probably die too. But then a year passes, and you find yourself still alive. Two years pass, and you think surely I will not survive much longer. Now it's been ten years, and sometimes I still can't believe I'm alive and I wonder how much longer I am going to live."
Being a former Global Health master’s student, I have gone to dozens and dozens of these types of “community development” presentations, and to be honest, over exposure can lead to a certain level of desensitization to matters that should otherwise be heart breaking for a person with a normal functioning sense of empathy.
So half heartedly and cynically I went, yet minutes into the presentation, I could not help but be drawn into the presenter’s touching personal story and be moved by his love for his country, a place known as “the Switzerland of Africa”, and what he describes as a beautiful land of a thousand hills.
Eloge Butera, the speaker, was only 10 when the 100-days genocide broke out, during which the brutal ethnically-fueled attacks led to the slaughter of nearly one million of his Tutsi countrymen, among which included his best friend, his father, and up to 100 members of his extended family. During this time his mother did her best to provide for her three kids and to keep them safe, and but years later when the post-genocide tension and volatility did not subside, she decided to send her eldest son, Eloge, alone to Canada in hopes of a brighter future for him. Now 26, not only does his future seem bright, he also seems to be a man that knows his purpose in life. Other than being an international law student at McGill University, Eloge has been a passionate spokesperson for human rights and has also been working tirelessly to garner awareness and support for his mother’s NGO, Tubahumurize, a technical training and counseling centre in Kigali that provides education and rehabilitation to women whom have been victims of gender-based violence, war and genocide.
Eloge spoke poignantly about many things that I found to be foreign and incomprehensible. He spoke of the fear, distrust and anguish that many Rwandans feel when they still have to live side by side with neighbours that might have been responsible for the death of their family members. He spoke of the indignation that one feels when one's government is doing little to bring the perpetrators of genocide to justice. (Although he did recognize the challenge of trying to administer justice when the number of perpetrators are in the tens and even hundreds of thousands.)
He also spoke of the intense feelings of turmoil and disbelief in his own survival that have regularly engulfed him in the years following the killings. "Right after it happened, you think that everyone is dead and soon you will probably die too. But then a year passes, and you find yourself still alive. Two years pass, and you think surely I will not survive much longer. Now it's been ten years, and sometimes I still can't believe I'm alive and I wonder how much longer I am going to live."
It is hard to imagine the confident, eloquent young man that stood in front of me last night ever going through the depths of despair. But I guess one of the most admired human attributes is our potential ability to persevere through trials and tribulations. It is amazing how the human spirit can survive even the most horrendous tragedies, albeit damaged, but not destroyed.
Eloge lastly shared about how Rwandans are moving on and moving forward. Some Hutu's and Tuti's are covering hatred over with love through inter-ethnic marriages, which were not uncommon before the genocide. Some Hutu’s are actively seeking forgiveness and reconciliation in their communities. Others like Eloge’s mom have devoted their lives to rebuilding their country. In her case, it’s reaching out to traumatized women in Rwanda regardless of their ethnicity and nationality – in fact Tubahumurize serves both Hutu and Tutsi women as well as refugees from neighbouring countries like Burundi and Congo. Eloge also finds hope in the generosity of overseas supporters. “Volunteers of the Green and Gold garden in Edmonton are such enthusiastic contributors. They freely put in many hours of labour and tolerate countless mosquito bites, for the sake of Rwandans that they don't even know. All of this gives me hope and faith in the good of people.”
The experience last night kind of helped me expose my initial cynicism for what it is - a disguise for laziness and perhaps a bit of unjustified self-righteousness. He reminded me that, like the garden volunteers, I can vote for the kind of world that I want to live in through my actions. Yes, it is true that the volunteers' sweat and toil are not on the same level as the women in Rwanda, and they may not be able to ever completely identify with their pain and hardship. But through every seed sown and every weed pulled they are showing solidarity and love. His sharing reminded me that there is so much work that needs to be done and so many ways that one can live a life that counts.
The experience last night kind of helped me expose my initial cynicism for what it is - a disguise for laziness and perhaps a bit of unjustified self-righteousness. He reminded me that, like the garden volunteers, I can vote for the kind of world that I want to live in through my actions. Yes, it is true that the volunteers' sweat and toil are not on the same level as the women in Rwanda, and they may not be able to ever completely identify with their pain and hardship. But through every seed sown and every weed pulled they are showing solidarity and love. His sharing reminded me that there is so much work that needs to be done and so many ways that one can live a life that counts.
For more information on the U of A Green and Gold Community Garden and how you can get your hands on some fresh produce, while supporting an excellent cause, go to:
1 comment:
Jenny! Wow! I couldn't have said it better! You absolutely captured the evening and expressing your own reflections is so refreshing to read. I felt a bit of a tear in my eye when I read, "But through every seed sown and every weed pulled they are showing solidarity and love." That is such a key message in the world, when people, who are so privledged in their lives to not have to face the hardships that many people in the world do, state that they do not what to do to make the world a better place. Many times it can be forgotten that we have the voice, power, and ability to do something, to spread a message, to create awareness, that others do not. The point is that we CAN act in solidarity for them.
Jess
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