Murakoze Cyane, Rwanda
Fighting back tears,
Eyes welling up with saltwater
And whatever else tears are made of,
Swallowing post-nasal drip
Smelling my lemongrass tea,
Not yet able to drink it because it’s too hot,
Looking out the window
Seeing a combination of
Fields, trees, homes, one playground, a mixture of modern and dilapidated buildings and businesses, a kid with red shorts and a bright yellow shirt kicking a soccer ball on the side of his home, streets with cars whizzing by.
People are going about their day
As if it’s not significant.
Maybe it’s not
To them.
That’s ok.
It is to me, though.
I’m saying goodbye to Rwanda today.
I’m saying thank you to Rwanda again for the 629th time
Murakoze cyane!
What Rwanda gave to me was grief
For uncles, aunties, sisters, brothers, nibblings I never knew
And never will.
Martyrs
In a genocide all too
Close
Familiar
Present.
Not here, though.
Never again.
But back home(?),
Even the good ones can, and do, become bad.
“Bad” is too simple.
Desperate.
Afraid.
Murderous.
With the grief came a reminder that I was human
Emotional
Deeply flawed
Equally animal
A little intelligent.
Murakoze cyane, Rwanda, for holding grief so that I may know, 30 years later.
Grief also came in perspective.
“Are you Rwandan?”
“No.”
“What is your ethnicity?”
“I don’t know.”
Confused
“It was stolen when enslaved Africans were.
They were mixed up on plantations so that they were unable to communicate, organize, remember, or fight.
Not only do I not know, but there are many.
Diluted in mixtures
Language
Customs
Beliefs
Knowledge
Family
Food
Art
Lost.”
“But it is impossible to live not knowing who you are.”
I grieve.
“I’m sorry. Perhaps you can claim all the cultures of Africa.”
“Perhaps”
I can’t. It doesn’t work.
Rwanda gave me memory loss.
I forgot how to validate urgency.
I forgot who irritated me.
I forgot what irritated me.
I forgot TV- no streaming services here.
I forgot that I was a bad bitch.
I forgot that I was my true love.
I forgot that I was the most powerful person in my life.
But then I remembered,
Because Rwanda gave me memory.
I remembered that I saved my own money to pay for this trip.
I remembered that I love traveling.
I remembered that I worked my ass off to get here.
I remembered that I worked my ass off to study for the LSAT and write and edit an essay to get me into USC Law school.
I remembered that I start law school in a month.
I remembered that my Ancestors ordained law school for my path,
So I should never doubt that I am where I need to be.
I remembered that I’m moving into a new, amazing apartment in 2 weeks.
I remembered that I am strong, doing my 22nd country on my own.
I remembered that I am not alone,
I’m with my ancestors and here for all of my family who could not be here.
That I had better remember to upload photos because some of them will never have this opportunity, and for me to be here “alone” validates their sacrifices
Rwanda gave me patience.
Time doesn’t exist.
Surely not to the basket weaver who said she’d be done with my baskets by 5:30, but with 2 more hours of work on the basket and my ride waiting, took a phone call with belly laughs and seemingly nothing pressing.
Rwanda gave me patience when the altitude winded me after 5 minutes on my morning run.
Rwanda gave me patience when my jet lag had me sleeping all day and up all night.
Past Meghan, you have time to allow your body to adjust
And still see all the things you want.
Rwanda gave me patience when my debit card was stuck in the ATM
In a small town
3 hours away
On a Sunday when no one could get it out
And I had no cash.
Then, again, when they said the card would be delivered before 12 pm
When the bank reopened on Monday
And I didn’t get it until 4 pm.
Rwanda gave me patience with myself while I worked through my anxious attachment
In my body
And in my psyche.
As I felt pain
Frustration
And finally regained my power
Without closure from the person I let take my power.
Rwanda gave me softness.
Rwanda reminded me that beauty is not vanity,
It is to honor.
Rwanda reminded me that an ornate ceramic tea set
With a saucer under the mug
Is not extra dishes,
But ceremony.
Rwanda reminded me that my
Soft Girl Era
Looks like reading a book with tea in bed
After a spa day.
Rwanda reminded me to cry.
Rwanda reminded me to stop pushing when I didn’t feel like doing something.
Rwanda reminded me that everything is working out for me,
And to stress is to forget that.
Rwanda taught me to wear my cute outfit,
Even if I wasn’t going anywhere “deserving of it.”
I rode around in a car with a driver
Instead of hailing a Taxi Moto, so I didn’t have to wear a musty helmet with someone else’s head sweat stuck to it.
I stayed in a hotel for the first time
Instead of a hostel.
Rwanda let me sleep in.
Rwanda gave me balance.
In Rwanda, I listened to my body
Without having to tell myself to listen to my body.
I did what my body said yes to
And didn’t do what she said no to.
Rwanda taught me that rain is not always soothing and cozy,
It can explode thunder that will make you jump 3 inches out of bed and not return to sleep.
Rwanda gave me treasures of tradition:
In art and customs.
With the comforts of modernity:
Hot water (if you time it right)
Decent wifi
Air conditioning
Yoga
Tattoos.
With glimpses of the future:
Peace Education to prevent future genocides
Gacaca Trials
Gravity-operated teapots
Eradication of revenge for the sake of unity and peace.
Rwanda gave me security.
I could walk anywhere at night
While feeling and being safe.
I was never cat-called.
People were trustworthy and respectful.
Supported each other and gassed each other.
Rwanda gave me space.
To heal and release.
To change my mind.
To do nothing and still feel good.
To make mistakes.
Like accidentally giving my driver RWF5000 extra,
And him giving it back to me along with a lecture on math.
Rwanda gave me knowing.
Knowing that my ancestors are here with me.
Knowing that I am valuable.
Knowing that I know so much
And nothing at all.
Knowing that I matter,
While simultaneously being a speck in the universe.
Knowing that I am a creative.
Knowing what not being overstimulated feels like.
Knowing that I have agency.
Rwanda gave me tickles and tingles.
The sting
Then burn
Then itch
Of the Stinging Nettle grazing my left thumb.
The sting of the tattoo needles.
Rwanda gave me two new tattoos:
A pen
And a paintbrush.
My two art practices.
Rwanda gave me the butterflies
That came from rekindling my romantic relationship with art.
Rwanda’s love of ginger
Gave me a tingling numbness on my tongue
Even stronger than hot sauce.
Rwanda gave me smells unmatched:
Beeswax
Cow dung for Imigongo painting
Fresh, machete-chopped rainforest plants and sap.
Rwanda gave me flora and fauna.
Rwanda introduced me to the tree tomato.
Rwanda gave me access to wild gorillas
In their natural habitat
Of the fertile rainforest
With dark, muddy soil.
And beautiful, exotic, thriving flora that
Only the most creative creator
Could create.
Rwanda gave me the joy of a 6-month-old baby gorilla
Tumbling
As it learns the world it lives in.
Rwanda gave me a hike to the gorillas
That taught me what positive pain
Effort worth putting forth,
Not for capitalism,
Could feel like.
A hike through the rainforest
With no path,
Just a knowledgeable guide
With a machete
To clear the way through the gorillas
That he tracked
Using his knowledge of
Scat
Bite marks
And gorillas’ sleeping nests.
A hike
That led,
2 hours later,
To a family of gorillas:
Mother and baby
Silverback
Blackback
And 2 others
Eating
And graciously sharing space with us.
Rwanda gave me simultaneous grounding and floating in the clouds.
Rwanda gave me, Me
Rwanda, you brought me back to myself
And I will always come back to you.
Murakoze cyane.
