I Cannot Forget
The darkness of distrust
crushing a soul
Seasons of fear
a reminder of the Rock
upon which I stand
Witnesses of joy in innocence
in simplicity
in community
The struggle to comprehend
what my eyes have seen
within confusion is the unending
drive to search in wonder
Above all I cannot forget
will not forget
to love
for it is the true
Light that shatters
the darkness
“It changed my life.” says every study abroader. Uhm, that could be true. I don’t know if it happened to me, but it definitely is difficult to describe what I’ve seen and felt during my time in Rwanda. “I Cannot Forget” is my honest attempt to express my heart’s sensations.
During one of my first nights in Rwanda, Sophie read to me, in her lovely British voice, the following poem by Arundhati Roy:
Never to Forget
To love.
To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance.
To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you.
To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair.
To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple.
To respect strength, never power.
Above all, to watch. To try and understand.
To never look away.
And never, never to forget.
Sophie shared this poem with me when we were both struggling to understand everything around us. Six weeks later, that struggle is still there. I think it will always be there. But as my time came to an end, I began to think about what exactly I wanted to “never forget”. Perhaps the scenic volcanoes in every day’s horizon? Cathy’s three endearing dogs Ben, Toby, and Soso? going out with Paci and Patience? watching preschoolers confidently walk home by themselves? Rwandan women hand-plowing endless fields and men pushing their bicycles loaded with potatoes? So many scenes linger in my mind, but what I ultimately chose to write my poem about were the feelings evoked by those experiences. Unexpected feelings which so intimately pierced my being.
“The darkness of distrust crushing a soul.” Around 3 weeks in, some things happened that unexpectedly destroyed my sense of peace. Have you ever been in a place where you realized you couldn’t trust anyone? It’s dreadful. It’s probably the worst feeling, as I learned my lack of trust invoked loneliness to its deepest despair. I felt bad for myself for a while, but at the same time I searched for the lesson out of it all. I thought back to my original hope for this trip as I wrote in a pre-trip post: “I have decided to center my aspirations on my overall life goal: to learn to fully love God and love others.” I began to ask myself, does love require trust? I wasn’t sure. I thought to the cross. I knew that Christ died because He loved humanity. But it didn’t really make sense to say that Christ “trusted” humanity. The One Jesus did trust was His Father, and His Father’s will. And so He went to the cross, and on that cross, love defeated everything. From that point on, I determined to focus on loving first and foremost, and hopefully trust would follow. God, I can’t trust. I can’t love. But You can and You live in me, so help me to trust and love. So, I ended the poem with a reminder to love, the “light that shatters the darkness”, because that is the one lesson I never want to forget. Perhaps this trip gave me a glimpse of what unconditional love requires and calls for.
“Seasons of fear.” My most fearful moment in Rwanda – realizing my visa had expired, and hearing about potential $5000 fines. The visa I applied for was not the one I received at the airport…and I was stupid. The office was not open for 4 days, so I had those days to lie in my bedroom and imagine the worst. My mind went to some pretty dark places. Turns out that’s also when I most desperately read the Bible. Now, one of my most precious memories is skyping my parents and hearing them share a wealth of verses to comfort me and remind me that if God had opened the door for me to come to Rwanda, He would see me through to the finish. One day before my scheduled flight, I scrambled to Kigali with the two-hour bus ride and spent the day at the immigration office to resolve the matter. Praise: my fine was minimal, and I received my passport six hours before my flight.
I’ve almost gotten to the point of being fine when hardships turn up because I’m now able to look forward to the lesson and rightful outcome….but that’s probably limited to not-so-bad hardships lol
“Witnesses of joy.” Everywhere and everyday, in their eyes. I never want to forget the preschoolers’ shouts of “Iphene!! (their attempt to pronounce Ethan) as they ran to embrace me every morning in the school field. Contagious laughter and automatic smiles from all ages. My dear boy, Iranzi, invited me to his home to meet his family. His father is the village butcher, and when I went to his home, I could just feel the sense of joy in simplicity and community. Neighbors gather and kids play in each other’s yards. Iranzi excitedly turned on his box-TV for me to play an old movie. His father showed me their avocado trees and the chicken coop they were building. His little sister Bereve clambered into my lap and wouldn’t stop holding onto me. Everyone in Musanze walks and bikes and works together. It seems like everyone knows each other, so I couldn’t help but feel a sense of community like nowhere else. These joys are the general vibe of the Rwandan everyday life. One NGO worker I met on a bus abruptly asked me, “How have you made your community here?” Her question reminded me that community is essential wherever I go. Transcending language and cultural barriers, I never want to forget my special community in Rwanda – Paci, Sophie, Patience, Nadine, Iranzi.
“The struggle to comprehend.” I came to Rwanda with questions, I am perhaps leaving with even more questions. So many things I have seen urged a deeper understanding of big topics such as disparity and development. Why does it really seem like Africa has had it inherently tougher than the rest of the world? Did God intentionally make places unequal? Why did Europeans become “civilized” so much faster? Was I playing God as a volunteer? Some of these questions racing in my mind sound so ugly, even to me. I still don’t have answers, but this journey has taught me that it is my duty to continue to try and understand. That’s what life is for – to seek in wonder of it all.
Amidst the distrust, the fear, the confusion, I have left Rwanda stronger, content, and determined to return. I have known and loved a people as far from home as I could possibly get. I have learned lessons that expanded my perspectives. I have ultimately learned that love (an action) overcomes all. I hold onto this truth more than ever before. It will always come back to love. I mean, after all, God is love.
