I am lured by faraway distances, the immense void
I project upon the world. A feeling of emptiness
grows in me; it infiltrates my body like a light and
impalpable fluid. In its progress, like a dilation into
infinity, I perceive the mysterious presence of the
most contradictory feelings ever to inhabit a human
soul. I am simultaneously happy and unhappy,
exalted and depressed, overcome by both pleasure
and despair in the most contradictory harmonies.
I am so cheerful and yet so sad that my tears reflect
at once both heaven and earth. If only for the joy of
my sadness, I wish these were no death on this earth.
E.M. Cioran 1911-1995
As we were browsing through the library at the Commission Nationale de Lutte Contre le Génocide (CNLG) in Kigali, two of us came upon a book that wove pictures and words together to create a truly powerful and moving depiction of the Rwandan genocide and the silence of the international community that followed. It was called “The Rwanda Project 1994-2000″, by Alfredo Jaar. That passage by E.M. Cioran grabbed us – who was this Cioran fellow and how did he know exactly how we felt at that moment?! We immediately copied those lines in our notebooks, determined to bring them back with us.
According to OpenDemocracy,
“Alfredo Jaar’s Rwanda Project: 1994–2000 is a series of photography-based installation works derived from his experiences in Rwanda. He first travelled there in the summer of 1994 while the genocide was still ongoing and overwhelmingly ignored by the international community. It is estimated that almost one million people were killed over a period of three months, from April–July 1994.
The Rwanda Project attempts to counter and transform the conventions of photojournalism, which frequently objectifies violence through unmediated images of victimization. Alternatively, Jaar reverses the lens’ eye to focus on the eyes of the witnesses and the hauntingly beautiful landscape in which this massacre was enacted as a means of eliciting an emotional response from the viewer.
Alfredo Jaar was born in 1956 in Santiago, Chile. His work has been exhibited internationally, participating in the Venice, Sao Paulo, Johannesburg, Istanbul, and Kwanju Biennials, as well as Documenta in Kassel. Recent solo exhibitions include those at the New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York; the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago; the Whitechapel Gallery, London; the Pergamon Museum, Berlin, and the Moderna Museet, Stockholm. The Rwanda Project 1994-1998 has been shown in Europe, Japan and the United States. Alfredo Jaar currently lives in New York, his website is at: www.alfredojaar.net“.
If you follow the link to his website and explore his “recent projects” you will find The Rwanda Project 1994-2000. Better yet – apply to Reflections on Rwanda 2011 and go see it in Kigali for yourself!
Either way, definitely worth a look.
“I went to Rwanda because a voice inside me told me I had to go. Although I did not expect to understand everything upon my return, I needed to see first hand what a human failure looks like 15/16 years later. Can people move on? Should people move on? Is forgiveness possible, or even desirable? I’ve come back from Rwanda twice now. I still don’t have the answers, but I’m thankful to have had the chance to ask the questions and to share in a beautiful human experience not only with the Canadian participants but also with our more than hospitable Rwandan hosts. Take a leap of faith and see what awaits you in the land of a thousand hills.”
- Raffi
“My experience in Rwanda was incredible. Originally I had applied as a way of continuing my education, having graduated almost two years earlier. But in the end, Reflections on Rwanda offered so much more. By the time the
trip was over, without trying to sound too much like Maya Angelou, I was reminded how to grieve, how to be strong, how to be inspired, and how to laugh.
I’m thankful for everyone we met on our trip. We learned of families and communities completely torn apart by violent, unimaginable means. We heard the vicious details of how a manipulative government and years of built up ethnic tension lead to extreme massacres that affected every family in the country. Each person invited us into the story of their life, so open and willing to share. They invited us to mourn, and grieve and weep with them. We heard over and over that we were welcome to learn the stories from Rwanda, and were encouraged to bring them back with us to share in our homes. A university professor told us it was most important to try to understand the sorrow of the country. It was this openness and encouragement that showed the strength of the country.
The most inspiring part of the trip was to see the resilience and pride of the Rwandan people. A question that pestered me for many years about Rwanda is how the country can function today, let alone for many years now, if it is made up of opposing “sides” after the extreme divisive violence of the genocide. After the genocide, neighbours came back to their communities to live as one again – living as perpetrator, victim, rescuer, escapee, survivor. It is impossible to deny the traces of these historical identities and roles that were once so prominent in the country, but it is easy to see these labels are no longer the norm. The country has come so far in such a short time, and although many wounds are only superficially healed, the attitude of the young educated people in Rwanda is that of pride and hope, and rightfully so.
The journey was emotional; we faced the absolute lowest of humanity, and struggled to find some basic understanding as to why and how this tragedy had happened. Experiencing this together, we all connected very quickly, battling these questions and emotions as a team. We would hold hands all the time. This is a natural thing in Africa, quite unlike my standard North American upbringing where hand-holding is usually reserved for children and two people in love. It was common to see two men walking down the street together holding hands, just as a symbol of their general affection. And I’m very glad this was a cultural thing. To be able to reach out and have just that simple human touch when you felt your heart breaking in two or three or a hundred pieces… What a simple and powerful comfort.
At the opposite end of the spectrum though, the trip to Rwanda also reminded me how to laugh. I took it where I could get it, in an attempt to strike some sort of balance with the extreme and violent stories we shared with people. The laughter came unexpectedly at times: when duct tape was the best possible solution to fix a rip in my pants for example. It came in waves, arguing that peanut butter goes with everything (think about it – everything) and that plants are taking over the world. It came now that I am an expert on all things relating to cows in Rwanda. And it was there in sweet smiles, a bouncing ball, banana beer, the toilets, and a shared cigarette. It was the contrast that these highly hysterical, often childish moments provided that absolutely made this trip so meaningful for me.
I shared the trip with a group of amazing people, each of us with a handful of questions, an open mind, and a passion for learning. We had some incredible opportunities to meet people and make connections all over the country and I can only say I don’t regret a single second of it.”
- Audrey
Experiences to be thankful for
by JS, aka Jean-Sebastien, aka Juan Sebastian
“Witnessing genocide survivors express their gratitude for our visit was an incredibly inspiring and humbling experience.
Cassava and potatoes provided constant inspirations for my starchy Newfoundland cuisine!”
Fufu
Which starch are you having today?
