More Than Words

I am a crybaby at the movies. So I wasn’t surprised that I cried through most of “Hotel Rwanda.” I didn’t expect, however, that I wouldn’t be able to stop crying nearly a week later. Nor could I stop talking about the movie.

In 1994, over three months, the Hutu majority of Rwanda killed nearly one million people, mostly members of the minority Tutsi tribe. Millions more were forced to flee to refugee camps. The rate of the killings exceeded that of the Holocaust, and the methods were brutal: mostly slow dismemberment by machete.

The movie “Hotel Rwanda” examines the genocide in Rwanda through the experience of Paul Rusesabinga, a manager at an upscale hotel frequented by wealthy Westerners and local powerbrokers. As the Western world abandons Paul and the rest of Rwanda, Paul uses his skills and resources to turn the hotel into a refugee camp for Tutsis and protects them from the constant threats of the Hutus.

I consider myself to be informed about and involved in the world. I knew of the genocide in Rwanda, although I didn’t know many details or understand the reasons for the conflict. I knew that the United States did not intervene. But after watching “Hotel Rwanda” and reading more about the genocide, I realize how little I knew. As I spoke to people about the movie, I realized that many others knew little or nothing about what happened in Rwanda. Many had forgotten.

In talking about the movie, I often mentioned my frustration that all I was doing was talking. I was horrified by the suffering of the people. I was outraged at the United States—and the rest of the Western world—for not intervening. I was ashamed of my own ignorance and cowardice. I wanted to do something to atone for my own sins and the sins of my country. What good is talk? I wanted action.

But maybe talking is the most important thing that I can do. The more I talked about the movie, the more others wanted to know about Rwanda, the more questions they asked, the more interest they had in the movie and in the real story. I wasn’t just talking about a movie; I was starting a crucial conversation.

We need to talk about the genocide in Rwanda. We need to talk about why we refused to call the massacre of one million people “genocide.” We need to talk about why we aren’t doing more to stop the large-scale violence in Sudan. We need to talk about why we only get involved in humanitarian aid when it involves an economic partner or White people and why we continue to ignore human rights violations in Africa, China, and Russia. We need to talk about why we erect borders—through policies, regulations, words—that separate us from the poor and oppressed.

We can’t turn back the clock to make things right in Rwanda, but we can address the atrocities that take place today. Women in the Congo are being subjected to systematic rape. Children in Uganda leave their homes to sleep in makeshift camps to avoid being kidnapped and forced into becoming soldiers.

Violence in Sudan has claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, and more are being lost every day. The U.S. government has even recognized the situation as a genocide. Yet the U.S. Administration and the United Nations continue to block efforts to end the violence and bring the perpetrators to justice, and they are failing to meet promises of funding and humanitarian aid. We need to talk about why political turf wars and semantic debates are getting in the way of crucial intervention that could save countless people from the horrors of mass murder, rape, and displacement.

We need to talk about these things---with our families, our friends, our neighbors, our coworkers. We need to urge our church leaders to talk from the pulpit and our media to talk in the press. We need to talk to our government leaders and representatives. Perhaps when our voices grow numerous enough and loud enough, our words will compel George W. Bush, Kofi Annan, and other world leaders to take action.