Twenty years after the genocide in Rwanda

 Kris Berwouts and Ivan Godfroid (right), both are Central Africa specialists. Twenty years after the genocide in Rwanda they are sharing their knowledge and feelings about what happened there and and what the situation in the region and in Rwanda itself is to date.

The basis for the discussion is Ivan's poetry book 'Omgewoelde aarde' (Disturbed earth). The book is in three sections. The first one with the motto: During the day Imana (god) roams over the earth, at night he comes to sleep in Rwanda. En deep expression of the beauty and peacefulness of the country. The second motto is: to where the river runs also the rocks roll. The unrest, the uneasiness, the doom is present. Every noise could be the last thing one hears... Foreboding and the reality of it. the third section opens with the motto: It is not the pain of the moment which kills but it's constant memory. The Oratorium for Rwanda was played and the contrast between the joyful strong rhythmic music we are used to hear with the deep inwardness and silence was chilling. Jean De Mey performed a beautiful and haunting improvisation rendering the screams and pain of those mad hundred days in 1994 in which 800.000 people were slaughtered in one hundred days. Rwanda is hauntingly beautiful country, machetes are still the tool of choice and are seen everywhere. Hope lies with the new post genocide generation. Yet overpopulation could destabilize the whole region including the North-east of Congo. Every twenty years the population doubles. Every twenty years there is less land per person to live off and  the seeds of new conflicts lay dormant, for now.

Africa VI Namibia-Windhoek

Namibia was difficult for me. In Windhoek I got robbed of all my money and everything they could use. That is except my Native American medicine bag filled with herbs and small pebbles and a dollar. Even that one dollar bill they didn't take. The person who took my stuff did recognize it for what it was: strong medicine not to be tampered with, yet not strong enough to leave the rest of my stuff alone. But that certainly wasn't the main reason to feel strange in that country. It were the high walls around the houses with barbed wire on top. It was the potato salad, the arrogance of the English policemen: talking to an old man who spoke South African and I spoke Flemish (Dutch) with him, a policeman wanted to chase him away, assuming the man was bothering me. We just talked about life and how bad it sometimes is, how beautiful it sometimes is. The encounter with the old man grounded me, made me feel good in that strange country. I hope our conversation did the same for him. The mayor of Windhoek invited the whole group to a cultural event: He was blond, blue eyed, wore a thick golden chain and in a Las Vegas style 'jungle bar' we were treated to soft pop of the sixties... Diamonds rough and cut were everywhere. No I didn't buy any, nor smuggle anything. I did buy a dress two toned green and I still wear it once in a while on a hot summer's day. Also a balsa wood tiger I dragged along, bought from the local artisans. I learned that real human contact is what counts, even if the fences are high. I am also pleased to learn that the old colonial names are changed over to the tribal names for cities and regions, mainly in the Zambezi region. So maybe it is time to really visit Namibia now.