When I first arrived in Rwanda, I was told that Rwandans handle grief, especially trauma, in a very different from how we generally experience it in America. While Americans hold things in or cry silently - oftentimes even a bit embarrassed – Rwandans may respond quite the opposite, especially the most vulnerable populations.
While we were told this, I could not really grasp what exactly that meant. I knew many of our students had suffered greatly in their pasts but how does that anguish continue to affect them?
The other day ASYV’s Executive Director, JC, called to inform me that Village Time – our weekly celebratory show of our kid’s talents – was going to be a dedication to a graduate who had tragically passed away from a car accident. I had a visitor with me at the time who would be joining for Village Time and JC wanted me to tell this visitor that the event would be a sad one.
As JC announced the news during Village Time, many of the older kids were crying quietly, saddened at the loss of their friend. As the night’s events went on, you could see the kids getting progressively sadder. One kid fainted and was carried out by four others. Louder sobs and noises were heard throughout the group.
At one point in the service, a picture of the boy who had passed away was put on the projector. All of sudden shrieks, howls and fainting came from all ends of the amphitheater. Immediately the photo was taken down but it was enough to set the group off. From one howl, came another and another. All of sudden kids were screaming at the top of their lungs “Mama Mama” or “Papaaaa”. Some were puking on the grass outside the amphitheater. Multiple more students fainted and had to be taken to the clinic.
This went on for about 20 more minutes. None of the cousins could really wrap their mind around why we continued the ceremony – we wanted it to stop – it was all too much! By the end of the ceremony, about half of the students were no longer there for one reason or another. Many of these students were Enrichment Year too, which means they did not even know the boy who had passed away.
By then, emotionally drained and not quite grasping what I had just seen, I had planned to walk to dinner. As I passed my family home, I heard the most piercing scream and so I run into the house. 3 security guards and 2 older boys were holding back one of my girls. From what I could gather, she was suffering from a flashback from childhood and wasn’t even in her body. Kicking, punching and absolutely uncontrollably, we held her down to prevent her from injuring herself or others. For about 30 more minutes she lay on the ground, heaving and hiccuping in this way I had never heard before.
Once the psychosocial worker had arrived (after dealing with other similar cases), I went to check if other girls in my family had not went up to dinner. As I looked around, I was in utter shock. At least half of the girls were crying, one had puked in her bed and another had just been rushed to the clinic after an asthma attack. As I sat trying to comfort the girls, another girl fainted and we had to bring her up to the clinic as well. This went on for hours. It was clear that my girls were feeding off each other’s emotions. When one was crying or screaming, others would join in. That was why the scene at the amphitheater was so exacerbated.
Eventually, everyone had calmed down and I left them to have alone time. I met up with JC to check in and talk a little about the night. He clarified a few things for me. He pointed out how the Enrichment Year kids were the one’s having the most severe reaction to the night (in many cases this was PTSD) and spoke about how, previously, the older kids would have reacted similarly. This progress helped me realize how much the Village was helping them to heal and grow emotionally. He also pointed out that while it looked like the kids were suffering, it is healthy for them to let out their emotions and express their feelings instead of repressing them. While I was deeply concerned, this assured me that he was not.
Genocide Commemoration Week is coming up soon and I’ve been told a number of times (I’ve spoken to many people about the behaviors of Rwandans who have suffered from traumatic events since this incident) that across the country many will have similar reactions to our kids. I do hope, as JC said, this is a way of healing for them because this country has truly suffered.
When I watch this response to sad events, I can’t help but be confused and curious by my emotions. In some ways it’s fascinating to see such a different response to sad events. And, in others it is deeply upsetting because I can’t help these kids overcome the traumas they have suffered. I do know, my presence that night benefited them in some way. I notice a closeness that they feel towards me that I hadn’t before (or maybe I just had not let it in).
The next morning, I spoke with a few of the girls in my family who had struggled the night before, and they were fine – I’d say even happy. The girl who had completely blacked out and was screaming and kicking said she didn’t even know it had happened and could not say why it did. Over time, I hope the girls will share with me so I can understand why and how they reacted in the ways they did. But, for now, I am going to continue to play my part in being there for them the best I know how.
After everything that happened, the visitor who was in the Village wrote me one of the kindest and warmest notes I have ever received. We had only gotten to know each other over a few hours but his note really got me through the next day. After a challenging night, it was nice to get a reminder about the small acts of kindness that people can do for one another.