Rwanda is full of good people. I’ll explain why in a minute. But it just makes me happy to see demonstrations of people being really good in everyday life. Sometimes it takes a tragic event to do that; it is very nice to see, as I did today, that such things are not necessary conditions.
A few times, now, I have heard a sentence that begins Mu múcô w’Abanyarwaanda… “In Rwandan culture…” The first was at lunchtime, when we finished eating and I started to help clearing the table. I was told that, in Rwandan culture, the women clear the table. I felt like saying, well, yes, kind of in America too, but I still want to help! I decided to let it go, though, and just accept the explanation that things are different here and I should not disturb it as long as I am a guest.
That is not what I was talking about. What I am talking about is how, more than once, I have heard that in Rwandan culture, guests don’t pay for anything. This evening, I was visiting some of my hosts’ relatives again, and not only did they give me a Fanta (fine) but they went out and bought capati too. (Side-note: these are really good; they are kind of soft, thick, flavored tortillas, inspired by an Indian dish with a similar name that I cannot remember.) And this was in addition to the same people buying me dinner when we were out the other day. And my not paying for at least a few other meals now to which I feel like I should have contributed something.
I know, respecting guests is not unique to Rwanda, and even paying for guests’ food is something that is kind of expected in the U.S. I feel like there is a common sense clause, though, for situations like this. These are people who have modest resources, whereas I am an American who has a nice amount of grant money that my university gave me, explicitly so I could spend it on things like this. They even acknowledge that, comparatively, I am rich. (Actually, I’m pretty sure they think I am a lot richer than I actually am.) Still, whenever I try to pay, they won’t hear of it. I do wish they would let me, but I also really admire their commitment to generosity and there is a part of me that doesn’t want to disturb that.
Perhaps I built that up too much. It is not as though they put themselves at risk to save a child from a burning bus. But nevertheless, however subtly, they went out of their way to do things for me because I was their guest. These were things they really didn’t have to do, and that even bordered on illogical, but that I nevertheless really appreciated.
I started this post by saying that this country is full of good people. I realize that might come off as a little bit ironic, given that 19 years ago this month the opposite seemed to be true. I have given some thought to how that can happen, as I am sure have most Rwandans. The best answer I can come up with is that it is not good to generalize (as I just have); humans are incredible organisms, with the capacity to do things both great and terrible, things that are often not consistent with each other. Much of what is wonderful about this world is its diversity, and the myriad ways we see the many sides of the human spirit being expressed every day. It could be argued that to characterize even a single person, let alone a whole society, with a single adjective only serves to flatten a multifaceted entity into a preconceived mold.
Part of the reason I bring this up is because of a word in Kinyarwanda, uruuntu (or uruunturuuntu, reduplicated), which I have seen translated as “humanity” or “human smell”; but it requires a bit more explanation than that. It is related to umuuntu “person” and encompasses, in one word, everything that is perceived as separating humans from the rest of the natural world. When we talk about “humanity” in English, we tend to think of valued qualities like courage, compassion and generosity, even though looking at a newspaper or even out the window provides abundant evidence that there is more to humanity than that. This Kinyarwanda word, though (at least as I understand it), acknowledges all the other sides as well. It calls to mind an image of human society as a diverse, kind of messy mixture of people and actions, full of good and bad and everything in between—something that can only be described in English as “human.”
There is a proverb that incorporates that word: Áhô abaantu bárî ntihabura uruunturuuntu. Roughly translated, “Places where people have been will not lack humanity.” In other words, for better and for worse, human beings leave their mark wherever they go. I know I have just been railing against broad generalizations, but I think this one is kind of insightful: it is an old saying, who knows how old, but it finds a way to reconcile the two sides of a problem that is very relevant today.
Who has been here and not wondered how this could be the same Rwanda, full of the same Rwandans, who made headlines in 1994? This is the only answer that makes sense to me, though it may not be a totally comfortable one: that Rwanda does not lack humanity, nor has it in recent history. It so happens that it has shown both the worst and the best that humanity has to offer, but the spirit that underlies both might be the only thing that has been constant through it all.
New Vocabulary Words for the Day
- kúbéera ko: because
- ivuûmbi: dust
- igisoroori: bowl (from Fr. casserole)
Vowels with an acute accent (e.g. á) have a phonetic high tone. Vowels with a circumflex (e.g. â) have a phonetic falling tone. Vowels with no accent have a low tone. Vowels that are doubled are long.
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