Butare, Rwanda

    Driving in two narrow tracks in the grass, we quickly come upon a compound of nearly twenty nondescript brick buildings.  As we get out of our vehicle, a warm breeze foretells the chilling reality with which we are about to come face to face.  I could smell it before we rounded the corner of the first building.  Subtle at first, the unmistakable smell of Death was soon a full frontal assault.  As I peered into the first door the assault was more like an ambush.  I was surrounded by it.  There in front of me, on short wooden slatted platforms, lay the bodies of even more genocide victims.  The bleached white color of bodies devoid of all pigment and life was cold like alabaster. My senses reeled as I tried to convince myself that the writhing mummified figures lying in front of me weren’t really human remains.  They must certainly be the product of some Hollywood set design.  But the smell of Death is unlike any other and I know that it can’t be synthesized to such a certain reality. 

    Room after room of bodies: each one telling of the horror of its death.   Bodies missing limbs or heads, the skin white and taught over the bones, lay twisted and distorted as if still writhing from the pain of death.  My feet felt like lead as I visited each room in turn, unable to bear the thought of not confronting each and everyone, knowing that I was one of nearly 6 billion other people who found better things to do in April of 1994 rather than speaking out in defense of the one million who were mercilessly and torturously murdered in that brief 100 days.

    It’s easy at first to blame the world.  “Why didn’t they do something?”, I have often asked.  Why didn’t the world leaders step in?  Why didn’t our leaders step in?  Now standing here and facing these bodies, I can only ask, “Why didn’t I do something?”  Why didn’t I call my senator or congressman or the White House?   Why didn’t I organize a public protest?  Why did I remain quiet?  I believe that if even one million people had asked themselves this question and then acted on it, much of this bloodshed would have been avoided.  This is a small country.  The victims were in concentrated groups inside schools and churches.  What kind of military presence would it take to ward off small groups of men armed primarily with hoes and machetes? 

We spend billions of dollars every month to continue to occupy Iraq and to what end?  We live our lives vicariously through the lies we tell ourselves and the lies we choose to believe.  The death toll of civilians in Iraq has now reached over 25,000.  How many more before we, the citizens of the world stand up and make a Citizen’s Arrest on behalf of those who are allowed no voice in their own country?  The total death toll in Iraq is now well over 100,000 that we know of.  How many more deaths will we need to see the crime in all of this?  Our government preaches Democracy as its highest principle.  Secrecy and lies are the greatest enemies of a true democracy.  Without adequate information, the people have only to leave the decisions to those who claim to know the truth. Even Hitler believed that he had the truth and that he alone knew what was best for his country and in fact, the world.  Voltare is quoted as saying that if you can convince people of absurdities, they will commit atrocities.  And now we find ourselves convinced of the next in a string of lies designed to allow us to hand over our sovereignty and good judgment.  We did not vote on this war in Iraq because we chose instead to cloak our apathy with the lies of our leaders. 

Now hours later and after a brisk walk through the bush, I can still smell the death.  It is so thick in my nostrils that I believe I can taste it in my mouth.  It has settled in my lungs and is clinging to my hands like a second skin.  I have washed my hands five times- even with alcohol- and nothing seems to put even the slightest dent in the smell. I close my eyes and I can see the smiling faces of people I have never known flashing rapidly in front of me.  Then, just as quickly, I see the smiles turn to grimaces of pain and watch as time speeds in front of me, the color draining from their skin as it stretches over the bones that were once the frame of that living smiling human being, leaving only the ghostly chalk-white mummies in their places.  The parade is now of the more than 50,000 that died here in a matter of days while I stood by and did nothing- while each of us stood by consoling ourselves with the lies that were easier to believe because they excused us from any action or responsibility.

It is night now and I am in my room again.  Before turning out the lights, I notice the darkness outside through a gap in the curtains.  Without thinking, I reach and pull it closed for fear that one or more of those ashen faces might find me here and watch me from the deep black.