The somber side of things: Bagamoyo and Rwandan genocide

While most of my stay in Tanzania was refreshing and exciting, there were some somber moments as well.

Lay down your hearts: While a command like this is almost poetic, the reason behind its existence is much more sinister.  This is the translation of the Swahili town Bagamoyo, the point of no return for the slave trade.  Slaves, brought from the interior, were told to lay down their hearts, in effect, to give up because there would be no sparing them from their new life, or lack thereof.  When I visited the Atlantic counterpoint to Bagaboyo, the Ile de Goree off the coast of Senegal, I was overwhelmed by the history.  I started incontrollably crying when I looked out the point of no return, a tiny opening in the stone fort where millions of African slaves were shoved through on their way to the Americas.  Overpowering was the memory of my ancestors, some of whom undoubtedly had passed this very hell, to their new lives as less than human. I had spent part of my teenage years attempting to recreate my family tree, to learn where I came from, but was always tripped up by missing records, reminded that slaves were property and thus recorded as such.  Consequently, I could only trace my lineage back to my great great grandmother, born a slave in Virginia.  Only an expensive DNA test can shed light on where in Africa my family is from.  However, it didn't matter, that day in 2003.  I was African.  I knew it by the pangs of dispair and the verge of hyperventilation I suffered when my head crossed the threshhold and I imagined the squalor of months chained on a slave ship.  The slave market in Bagamoyo was reminiscent of Ile de Goree.  Perhaps not as suffocating because I had experienced it before, perhaps because most of the slaves who passed through Bagamoyo were headed to the Middle East while undoubtedly my ancestors passed thru Goree. Wherever I come from, moments like these force me to carry the burden of all my ancestors who were once deemed less than human until I can transport myself back to the present and wake up from the nightmare of my past's past.
It was good for me to experience this town though because most of my travels in Africa have been void of historical sites, thus far.  Bagamoyo was also special for another reason, the continuing sense of family and belonging that has enveloped me during my time in Tanzania.  I went there with Florence, Monica's cousin.  This is the girl whose nursing graduation I had gone to the other weekend.  There, her father and 3 siblings live in an extremely modest house.  They picked us up from the bus station, took us home for some refreshments, and then took us to various historical sites like an Arab town dating from the 12th century, the oldest church in E Africa, and the site where the body of Dr Livingston, renowned slave trade abolitionist, laid until it could be shipped back to the UK.  Did you know that slavery wasn't outlawed in Tanganika until 1922!  Florence's father thanked me for giving his children such a memorable day out.  He only sees Florence occasionally and very seldom do they do something as a whole family.  I was immediately adopted by them and left Bagamoyo almost in tears at how generous and kind they were to me.  I keep marveling at the people I meet and giving thanks for the opportunity to be surrounded by those that have made my travels what they are.
The other sobering moment was at Aline’s party when I learned more about Pricilla and her family. When I had found out she was from Rwanda, the thought crossed my mind that she might’ve been victim to the 1994 Rwandan genocide, where Hutus killed hundreds of thousands Tutsis and moderate Hutus (to learn more, Hotel Rwanda is a good start), but I didn’t really want to ask. Her story came up in the strangest of environments, as talking about mass killings over wine and croque monsieurs is not the normal topic for these types of events. She didn’t go into detail but her whole family save one of her brothers and herself, escaped the genocide. Could you imagine losing your whole family? She most have been only 8 or so when all of this happened. A few years ago, she got a job with the Aline’s firm, which also works in Rwanda. When her boss moved to Tanzania, she asked to be transferred with him because there was nothing left for her in Rwanda, and it was difficult to stay in the country that had allowed her whole family to perish. Looking at this beautiful girl with the most stunning smile and divine yet imposing head of hair I’ve ever seen, you would’ve never imagined she went through the type of horrors we’re only privy to through Hollywood movies, documentaries, novels, and the news. Her smile was captivating but her eyes could not completely conceal the pain that scarred her. I’ve not met deeper eyes in all my traveling. Her childhood disrupted, her education fragmented, opportunities are limited. Working as a maid is probably her only option, for now, forever.