Student Publications
In the last week of March, hundreds of pages of essays, photographs, poems, stories, artwork and designs will be distributed on campus in the form of four student-produced journals. The Student Publications Department will release Charter, a journal of scholarship and opinion, Reflection, a journal of art and creativity, One World, a journal of social justice and Culture Shock, a journal of experiences and reflections. All of these journals are created, formatted, designed and distributed by student editors and student staff.
Below you will find an example of the many contributions written by students, faculty and staff from last year’s issue of One World.
You can find online versions of all Student Publications by going to www.gonzaga.edu/studentpublications.
An Article Published in the 2009-2010 Issue of One World
By John Mulcaire-Jones, Class of 2011
Lessons from Rwanda
Rwanda. When you hear that word, what comes to mind? With good reason the horrifying genocide leaps to the mental forefront for most, but this country is so much more than the memories and scars of the violence of the mid-nineties. This past fall I lived and studied abroad in East Africa, in Uganda for two and a half months and in Rwanda for about a month, and I want to share some of what I discovered in my time in Rwanda. Although the genocide cannot ever be forgotten and continues to shape the society, the Rwandan people and nation refuse to let the genocide ultimately define their country and their lives.
A quick historical background: Social divides and years of discriminatory colonialist policy left the Hutus and Tutsis of Rwanda bitterly divided. Extremist “Hutu Power” leaders had been seeking to eliminate the Tutsis, and in 1994 they used cunning propaganda to execute their genocidal ideals. Most estimates place around 1,000,000 people killed in about 100 days, a murderous rate never seen in all of human history. The numbers are staggering, but so are the individual stories. Much of the killing was done by hand, with machetes or clubs, and the world saw again how seemingly upstanding citizens can be turned into killers. Neighbors killed their neighbors, doctors killed patients, teachers killed students, and families even turned against each other. These facts certainly shock and overwhelm, but as Flannery O’Connor said, the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.
I’ve known the basic facts about the genocide for a while, but neither time nor further learning about the event makes it easier to understand. Visiting genocide museums and memorial locations where thousands were slaughtered offer no help in processing. Everyone undergoes their own struggles to acknowledge and deal with the reality of evil in the world. We must come to our own conclusions about the dignity and value of human life, about trying to reconcile this evil with a loving God, and how to live our lives in response to such tragedies.
Like many people I was familiar with the events before and during the genocide, but knew little about what happened after the genocide. How did the country continue to exist after a million of its citizens were killed, when another million fled the country, and when its infrastructure, government, and social structures were entirely destroyed? One of the classes I took in Rwanda focused primarily on the rebuilding process. And as hard as it is to understand the genocide, I have been just as baffled by the progress of Rwandans in rebuilding their country. After just 15 short years, this country that has experienced unimaginable pain is now one of the most stable countries in sub-Saharan Africa. Its people are firmly committed to building a united society where everyone is safe and valued. Reconciliation and justice are taking hold. Survivors have been able to forgive and physically embrace the same perpetrators who slaughtered their whole family. For every instance of the dark and savage side of humans, there are equally incomprehensible examples of love, forgiveness, and sacrifice.
I heard many incredible stories of survival and courage from the people we met. One of our guest speakers was Mr. Antoine Rutayisere, the vice president of Rwanda’s National Unity and Reconciliation Commission. He and his family were living in the capital city Kigali when President Habyamarina was assassinated, sparking the genocide. As he and his family were preparing to escape their house for a safer location, he heard a group of Hutu Interahamwe outside his front gate, debating how best to slaughter the family. I cannot begin to comprehend the despair he must have felt when realizing that any chance of escape was now impossible. The Rwandan Patriotic Front, a predominately Tutsi rebel group, was advancing through the country from the north and still miles from the capital, except for one small group that was located in Kigali for negotiations with the government. Somehow this lone band of armed resisters to the genocide turned the corner onto the street in front of Antoine’s house and engaged the Interahamwe just before they smashed down the gate. The skirmish allowed enough time for Antoine and his family to escape, but their ordeal was far from over. They lived under the stairs at the Amahoro National Stadium for an entire week, helpless as government shells rained all around them. A UN tank was outside the stadium, but despite all of Antoine’s pleadings, the soldier manning the tank refused to go beyond the UN mandate and engage the enemy.
The details of Antoine and his family’s incredible struggle for survival could fill a book, but it was his words of wisdom after his story that I have never forgotten. After his story, he gave an imitation of the typical “foreigner” who visits Rwanda trying to help. Here is a rough paraphrase of what he said:
“People come to Rwanda all the time seeking to help, bringing their notebooks and malaria medication and good will. They run all over the country, jotting down horrific facts in their notebooks: ‘Oh my goodness, 5,000 people were slaughtered at this church! How can this be? 130,000 people are HIV+? What a tragedy! 60% of Rwandans still live under the poverty line! How horrible. Wait, this is devastating, TEN THOUSAND innocent people were killed by their neighbors in this very spot! What can we possibly do?!’ before they finally are overwhelmed and throw their hands up in despair.”
Antoine paused, gazed out at us, and then gave some advice I will never forget: “Start by loving ONE person. Make a difference for ONE person. Then move on from there.” He struck at the heart of what social justice now means to me.
Antoine’s insight is the best answer I can give to this immensely challenging question: How are we to respond in the face of so much brokenness, so much suffering, and so much apathy? When we authentically open ourselves to the realities of the world, we find the raw truth is that we are simply unable to solve all the problems of the world. On this side of heaven there will always be injustice, suffering, and violence, and the sad realities of our world can be overwhelming, even paralyzing.
So what are we to do? As Antoine pointed out, we must recognize each other’s humanity. Social justice is based upon the inherent value of all individuals. Trying to tackle abstract problems of the world will only leave us frustrated and cynical. By starting on the most fundamental aspect, a relation with one other human, and continuing from there, we are acknowledging our incomplete yet simultaneously incredibly important roles in making the world more just. It may appear that by just loving one person we are somehow surrendering to the seemingly insurmountable problems of the world. However, isn’t social justice ultimately about ensuring that every single human receives the love and dignity they deserve? Where else can we start but with one person, one cause that truly inspires us?
Oscar Romero said it best: “We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well….We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.” Our job is not to overcome these abstract concepts of “poverty”, “oppression”, or “injustice.” This realization liberates us to focus on that which truly makes a difference, walking alongside our brothers and sisters across the world. Cynics may criticize and point to statistics to claim that we cannot make a “real difference,” but by simply showing love to just one person, by helping one person to reclaim his or her own humanity and inherent dignity, we leave an enduring impact on our world.