The Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre is located on a hill, and feels remote, aloof almost. The unassuming but elegant building is fronted by grassy terraces that cascade down towards a wetland. Beyond this open space the bustle of Kigali continues unhindered. The unassuming exterior is deceptive.
Careful and intelligent design takes one on an emotional journey that ranges from absolute outrage to deep and profound sadness. Exhibit one contains a generous treatment of colonialism; the beginnings of the exploitation of clan difference in the service of Empire. I use the word 'generous' since throughout the Centre, the material is displayed with wisdom and compassion. After this introduction one is drawn into a depiction of evil and terror. Video footage bears testimony to survivor experiences, newspaper clippings portray the mad propaganda that incited mass murder of Tutsis and moderate Hutus and many photographs. Exhibits include the remains of victims, clothing and the elementary but highly effective weapons used in this 3-month mass slaughter.
The building allows for moments of composure; after each exhibit one is given the opportunity to exit the room to a secluded space outside. Floor one concludes with current measures intended to serve justice. This includes the Gacaca village justice system where communities are given opportunity to try perpetrators. There has been a lot of criticism leveled at this system, not least the subsequent victimization of witnesses. The humanity displayed in enabling such closure I considered laudable as I viewed the second floor exhibition. The display on genocides elsewhere - Namibia, Nazi Germany, Cambodia, Bosnia - is rendered remote by time and geography. One is brought back to the present with a sharp blow: a memorial to children containing photographs posted by family members, personalized with detail on their favorite foods, ambitions, activities and aspirations. Tearful and upset, I rushed outside to find solace in the gardens outside, facing the grassy terraces outside punctuated by concrete slabs, nondescript rectangular blocks that contain mass graves, crypts containing the remains of friends, wives, husbands, lovers, children... a dignified burial for the many lost.
I hardly survived the ordeal of watching the movie (Hotel Rwanda), can imagine that a visit to the memorial must be devastating. This is an appropriately dispirited account of something horrible beyond comprehension. It begs the question, what is the role of a memorial building/place? Could it have been presented in a better way? Was it successful in conveying a lesson learnt?
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