The Light of Grey

I have had a great time this past week in Kigali. I spent most of my days analyzing my interviews and working on my French. One reason that I am now in better spirits is that the mood around the city seems to have shifted. I arrived here at an especially dark time: the start of the annual genocide Commemoration Week. Over the subsequent days I heard several Rwandans express their hope that the horrific events of thirteen years ago be remembered with an eye towards the future. However, as an outsider, it seemed to me that these were lonely calls. For example, drawing upon observations I made during my first visit in February, I noted subtle changes to the street scenes that indicated to me that during that many Rwandans remain essentially preoccupied with the past during mid-April. Shared taxis whose patrons typically converse loudly so that they can be heard over the high volume East African beats that the drivers favour, were silent. Rather than seeing many groups of conversing men on the street corners in the city centre - a common sight in this part of the world - I noticed people going about their business quietly and individually with ultra-serious looks upon their faces. The organized remembrance events were the only exceptions to this conspicuous muting of public space. After attending several such powerful gatherings, including an evening at the genocide film festival and an all-day function for a community of households headed by genocide orphans, the grief became overwhelming for me too. I very nearly lost it as I sat through a church service last Sunday at a mission that houses aged genocide survivors. Mass was interrupted at consistent intervals by the wails of a woman who in 1994 had been raped repeatedly by the men she had watched murder her family. Later, after feeding a few babies at the mission's over-capacity orphanage, I tried to escape into a copy of The Economist but found myself unable to focus on the current things that were being done to the world by empowered elites. I was struck by the importance of collective memory and the extent to which it bears upon Rwandan society. I had read about this phenomenon many times before, seen it deployed and manipulated by politicians to advance their agendas and even felt touched by it once per year on 11 November. Even so, I had a newfound respect for its power. History certainly imbues the present-day relationships that keep most Rwandans in all-too visible grinding poverty. Yet each of these particular histories - the kinds of stories my own work focuses on - are encompassed by the emotions, memories and narratives associated with an event that continues to define this place.

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As my parents pointed out to me in an email, the questions I posed last week were too black and white. As you now know it was also a particularly hard week. My thinking on the matters I raised is under construction. For now, suffice it to say that I do believe that principled career-advancement is possible in the field of global 'development'. However, I'm not yet sure how common it is....