As we entered we were given paper clips, to mark the twenty million paper clips collected by children in Tennessee - as a symbol of the millions of Jews who had died in the Holocaust.
A number of the audience then read some special pieces that had been selected. The Rabbi had asked me to read a passage on Rwanda, because of the genocide there in which one million people were slaughtered in three months, during 1994.
As you know from this blog, Rwanda is a country I have been privileged to learn much, having been there twice. I felt glad that I could read a testimony from a survivor of the genocide.
We then watched a remarkable dance from a young group 'Razed Roof' - some of whom had special needs or a disability of some kind. The choreography was both delicate and enchanting. At the end of the dance, many in the Audience, including Rabbi Irit were moved to tears.
One of the most poignant moments came at the end, when everyone on the way out took a pebble and placed it on the main table, as a mark of respect to those who had died.
P.S. The Rwanda passage I read out is below for your perusal:
Rwandan Testimony: Freddy Mutanguha:
"My name is Freddy and I was 18 years old at the time of the genocide. I lived with my parents and four sisters in Kibuye. We were all very happy together.
My Mum was the person I loved most in the whole world. I still remember everything she used to do – perhaps because I was by her side all the time. She was a very kind and generous parent, very sociable, with lots of friends. She used to tell me, "Life is about making friends and learning to live with people. When you know how to live with people, you'll never fail to do anything." And she would say, "It's not good to be selfish, you should always share with others." She didn't have a lot, but she gave a lot to those she lived with. And now I can see the fruits of her actions. All the people helping me now do it in my Mum's name. They tell me, "You'll never lack anything as long as we're here."
My strongest memory of the genocide, the one that hurts me most, is the night of 13 April 1994. That was the day they came to kill my family. I was away from the house, in hiding, but Mum came to find me. She knew I was very hungry because by then nobody could cook any food. There was practically nothing left in the house.
By then people had been bribing the hungry Hutu militia with food – to let them live a few days longer. At home the only thing we had left was beans.
Mum knew I didn't like beans and so she brought me some vegetables and passion fruit. She told me, "I couldn't find anything for you to eat… The people I told you about – the ones who dom me. I don't even have anything to give my child." Then she added, "Try and eat this, it will be OK. Be strong." Today, passion fruit still reminds me of that last meal my Mum gave me.
I also remember that before she was killed, Mum told me I had to be strong. She said that if my sister and I survived, I had to be a man. Those are the two things still on my heart to this day.
I was there when the perpetrators came to kill my family. They came saying, "We're tired, we'll take these two fat kids [Freddy and his sister] later." So they took the younger ones; my sister and I were left behind. We saw them being taken with our own eyes and they were killed not far away. We couldn't see it happening, but we could hear them screaming… They took Mum far away to kill her. Later at night, I went with another boy to find her body. We rushed there and buried her. We simply covered her with soil. So I saw my Mum's body, but not the rest of the family. I didn't see my father killed – people told me about it later.
Those memories usually come back to me in April. That's when I have nightmares and I see people killing other people… I see Hutu militia killing people.
The killers ran after people as if they were animals. Tutsis were no longer considered human beings then. The killers were like animals as well. They acted as if they were killing something else, not human beings.
I personally believe that surviving was partly a matter of luck – but it's also a great responsibility because many survivors are very poor and don't even have life's basic necessities. That's why those who have something to share need to feel responsible for those who have nothing.
In the future, I want to carry on working to help survivors. I'll need to invest a lot more effort into it because I know survivors have many problems. So I'm ready to work for them my whole life. I was lucky; I'm not handicapped, so I want to make use of my luck to help others".
