Ay, Steppenwolf (or: Korean and the Finn)

Traveling alone usually brings together the weirdest bunch of people. My general observation is that a lot of people like to say that they like to travel alone, but few people actually enjoy solitude per se. It is a different kind of solitude that lone travelers, for whatever reason, are seeking for - it is more of an escape from yourself as you know so well in your everyday surroundings. For my own philosophical vanity,let us call this "solitude from oneself." (Debate me. You know I love it)



Which is why, however seasoned a lone wolf you are, the moment you meet yet another lone wolf like yourself reading his/her travel book, novel, local paper in some semi-local restaurant over a glass of cheap local beer (because god forbid, you may commit the ultimately un-chic crime of ordering American or whatever import they have), you jump on the opportunity with a casual: “nice weather, huh?”



These kinds of encounters have the bizarre charm of shit getting real real fast – and not in the (well, I guess for some people, sometimes this is true) amorous sense, but in the sense of human-to-human relationship. The delicate balance between shallowness and politeness we try to keep up as both a measure of decency (because public nudity is a crime) and self defense (because unless you are spiritually Giselle Bunchen, nudity of that type makes everyone vulnerable) is quickly discarded, and conversation swerves to the real stuff. Especially in place like this, where EVERYTHING is tinged with the heaviness of genocide, weather and local beer as a topic quickly wears out. Who are you? What do you do? Why do you do what you do? What do you think about the reconciliation projects? What are your thoughts on forgiveness? Why are you here, what is your place here?



Of course, there is always the question of veracity – are we really speaking the truth, and only the truth? But then the question arises: how much does that really matter? Would what I say be less true if I actually did not go to Harvard? Would his observations on Tuol Sleng and Cambodia be less vivid if he was not really Finnish nor a journalist? There is a sense of boldness to the conversation; instead of coming for the target in circles, we now take the plunge. So who are you?



The other day I met a Korean lady at the famous muzungu-laden café, Café Bourbon at the Union Trade Center (seriously, little America right there) – and I took the first plunge. I had seen her around the other time I was there too, but I was meeting with a Rwandan friend and didn’t have an opportunity to ask, what her deal was in Kigali (undermining my status as the only Korean female down town lol). But this time, I caught her alone, and I was alone too, killing some time in between meetings, so I marched up, extended my hand and asked: Are you Korean? Because I am!



Eventually, we ended up sharing a table and talking about everything related to Rwanda politics and society. It was refreshing to discuss such things in public, even some subjects considered inappropriate or sensitive, because we were speaking in Korean the whole time. If some random Rwandan spoke Korean, well I guess he would’ve thought we were really bold or stupid muzungus, but oh well. (how far from the truth is that? Lol) What was interesting about her perspective was how much of her concerns regarding the Rwandan society was shaped by her contemporary concerns on Korean society – corruption, accountability, drawbacks of total free market neo-liberal economic policies – and by, and only by, her 5 month experience in Kigali. It was actually, in an interesting way, eye opening for me to realize that a lot of people here are not aware of the more theoretical, less visible issues of justice and reconciliation. It is easy to think that the level of awareness is equal everywhere when all you hear are questions of justice, rule-of-law and memory. Issues like these are not without reasons called “theoretical” or “underlying” challenges of society. But am I naïve, or self righteous in saying that because it is often underlooked, it is often the first to fester…something like an ill-treated wound developing gangrene?



After moving to my luxury condo, I flounced (the only accurate verb to describe how I walk downstairs with a little bit too much limb movement) downstairs to have dinner. With dinner came the complementary Finnish journalist/speech consultant. I mean, everyone needs to meet one of those, right? Everyone should know a Finn, especially if he grew up in New Zealand, discovered himself in Israel, self styled himself as a war or atrocity journalist, and now runs a speech consultant firm while working as a freelance travel writer, mostly going to conflict or poverty stricken countries. What was interesting was his observation that it was inaccurate to compare the Holocaust and the Rwandan genocide, not because the Rwandan genocide was in any way less or vice versa- but because there is a sense of finality and closure to the Holocaust, while there is something utterly empty about the remnants of 1994. The world has become aware of the poison of anti-Semitism and fascist politics by the Holocaust—Israel was born out of it (whether one likes it or not), idealistic organizations like the UN was born out of it (I mean, kind of), etc, etc…but according to the Finn, the Rwandan genocide was more like the Cambodian genocide—what came out of it was self destruction, and that was that. There is still the smell of blood in Tuol Sleng, he said, and the ‘exhibition’ is more like a court evidence exhibition: this is this, and we did this to people using it. It is not a ‘display’ as even Auschwitz had become over the years, but still an empty torture chamber. Similar to Rwanda. Most memorials are not really just a place of memory, but a literally place of burial – a mass grave.



Perhaps. But something will come of it – maybe one can even say something ‘good’ (in the perverse sense of the word) came of 1994. Would Save Darfur have existed the way it is now without 1994, Dallaire (French names are hard to spell) and perhaps, Bill Clinton(I understand I sound rather morbid here, but the world has its perverse logic sometimes)? And perhaps – the small country that can, Rwanda, is being born out of the ashes? Is 15 years too early to tell?



The sun is mellowing over Kigali, and through the yellow dust of the dry season I can make out the outline of the new gated community being built, fully equipped with a golf course. Maybe the new Kigali is robust enough to combat the festering wound. Tal vez, tal vez.