Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Hope

Honestly, much as I don't see her as having articulated specifics as to how she can help Rwanda beyond the so-called truth commission, I fail to see what she has done that warrants arrest. Personally, I don't believe Rwanda's chance for peace and justice lies in political parties; they promote an atmosphere of people thinking "me first" that little is done in the way of helping the average citizen. FDU, RPF, FDLR, PSD are all political parties with labels attributed to them by others or themselves, and, as such, their first instincts is to look out for their own interests and survival.

As such, Rwandans should stand up against Ingabire's arrest without regard to her political or ethnic affiliations because it is simply the right thing to do. What she said at the memorial is the truth... badly-timed and at the wrong place, but still true. 1. Itsembabwoko= genocide, annihilation based on ubwoko (ethnicity). 2. Itsembatsemba= massacre...It is unfair to think that only Tutsi or moderate Hutus were killed during the genocide period or in the chaos of the wars that ensued after. I was in Kigali during the genocide and I remember people from both ethnicities being killed. Is this saying there was no genocide, or downplaying the horrors of the genocide? NO. I am simply saying that people from both sides lost their loved ones and their grief is equal to me. I wouldn't have said it at the memorial of the Tutsi victims it I was Ingabire, but poor choice of venue is not a crime she's been charged with.

Fear is something we need to rid ourselves of before we can all take a step forward. For centuries, dictators and oppressors have relied on people's fear of death as a deterrent against uprisings and they have succeeded in certain ways, but there was always a man or woman in whom was found a willingness to act in spite of the fear they held because they knew the future would feed off their energy. Ingabire, though she might lack qualities to make her the next president of Rwanda, she has proven to be a beacon of hope for many. Many others, here and elsewhere, will disagree with me, but the truth still remains that she has mobilized and encouraged some to speak and dream about equality in their homeland.

A few years ago, some said Barack Obama was inexperienced and unproven in matters of governance, but he had, on his side, a powerful weapon; Hope. He offered a war-weary, economically-battered populace a glimpse of hope for change. When election time rolled around, people voted in droves to usher in a new generation of leaders that could reinvigorate their cause for pursuit of happiness. History remains to judge him, but, in Victoire Ingabire, many Rwandans see their own hope.

The stakes are different and she stands to lose more, but the prize is all the same. Though she is imprisoned, it is, by no means, a conviction- that decision lies with the courts of the land- and it might end up being a distraction to keep her from running in the scheduled August presidential elections. So, the best option is to sit back, think about what you base your opinion of her on (be honest with yourself), and see what happens.

History is a fair judge and we will all have to face its impartial gavel. It is entirely up to it to make someone a martyr-not us- so we sit and wait. Let her case be heard and judged. Don't be afraid to form an opinion, but do so with as much knowledge and insight as you can garner so that you make the best decision for all of Rwanda and not just you. When it's all said and done and the smoke has cleared, Rwanda will still be there longing for all its sons and daughters to join hands in building up the inheritance of  our ancestors without fear, prejudice, and malice.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Growing Old

Everyday, I grow older...in time, manners, thoughts, and hopes. Age creeps over me like a diseased haze bent on revenge for opportunities wasted, ignored, or plain unrecognized in my free-wheeling days of youth. The fact that I actually have noticed this is testament to the susceptibility to glitches our touted fate actually is, as the plan is for one to remain impervious to the effects of age until their life source has waned beyond the point of rekindling. So, in my state of realization, I have decided to bring to the world ways that age has conspired- and might do worse in the future- to turn me into that which I have formerly despised.

To begin with, I have noticed that I now enjoy toasted bread slices. For decades, you could not get me to taste a slice of bread that had been hardened, but now I find soft bread to be as desirable as a black president...oh, wait, maybe not a good analogy (if that's what it is), but couldn't the fact that America now has a black president be a sign of aging? For decades...heck, centuries...Americans resisted the concept of any race producing its leader besides the Aryan race. Now, in age, we have seen it change course, much like my toast conversion.

Now, what else can happen? Let me see...I might turn racist, not against white people, but against black people. I might turn against women and meat, becoming a homosexual (or, nonsexual) vegetarian, unhappy with the world and reserved to lonely days and nights on a Greek island, with dreams of muscled Achilles chilling the loneliness slowly siphoning my life away.

Sounds bad, but it could be worse; I could despise books and knowledge, cling to religion while shunning guns, and declare anyone past a third grade education an over-educated hippie bent on reversing the course of nature by sidelining the influence of the holy book...which, as you might note, I choose to ignore as rage seethes within my blinded sights. You could blame me, if you want, but that blame would be misplaced as age is the real culprit. 

Age does weird things to you, such as kill you. I can guarantee you that you won't die younger, but you will die older, even if it's a few seconds older. As people realize they are one step closer to kicking the proverbial bucket, they tend to act irrationally, performing deeds they would have regarded as despicable in their early years. I don't blame those of us who've awakened to this realization; I blame those still blinded by the vigor of youth, strutting around like peacocks in heat, longing to take one from life and bear offspring relegating them to what they perceive to be the success line in the overcrowded soul refund line. If only they could see what will be revealed to them later on...what we now know...they wouldn't be dancing to the same tune, or at least not with the foolish grins on their faces...but such is the way of age, it rips your back side when you least expect it. Sadistic f*ck!!!

But, now I'm grappling with the tensions of age as it pulls my strings like an unstout Pinocchio. I know I'm easing into a period of contentment, when sitting on an expiring quay, hanging a line as old as time's breath over the side hoping to catch a meal to extend my experience by one more, unintentional day will be all that I loathe out of existence. That, too, will be an effect of age overdose. What else could one ascribe it to?

So, What then? What is to be done to combat the effects of age when one knows its inevitable victory? I leave the contemplating to greater minds than I possess.