Laughter and Luther

So much laughter and so much love. Luther and I greeted each other with hugs and love, then lots more of both. As I looked at him, I thought of the many children I have adopted through the years and how much joy each has brought into my life. He is no longer the young man I met so many years ago. He was a strong motivating factor earlier in my life when he helped me realise my goals of becoming healthier and stronger. Today, he continues to motivate me. He is now entering his 40th decade of life, having experienced far more in this short space of time than most humans.

We were so consumed with talking and greeting each other that I proceeded to become lost leaving Dulles Airport. Memories came flooding back for both of us. One major memory for me is Luther's father, now a man in his 70th decade of life. Etched on his face are years of sorrow – not suffering, but sorrow. He is a warm man, always ready with a smile or a laugh. Much like his son, both ready to laugh and to take joy in the world around them. They find reasons to smile and see what we so often miss: tiny birds, beautiful trees, a wondrous cloud. Both marvel at the creations of nature. On the faces of both father and son can be seen an understanding of life that cannot easily be put into words. It is a felt sense more than anything else.

Luther spoke of how incredibly important family was to him. I was teasing him, as he has not yet married, and this is unusual within his Rwandan community. We spoke of how children are an important part of his culture. Luther thought this might be a result of the genocide and the death of so many children during that time. As a result, each child is now viewed as a special gift to be cherished and loved. He was saying how, after the genocide, the families of both his parents wanted to remove him and his siblings from Rwanda and raise them in another place, fearing for their safety within Rwanda and their father's ability to care for them. Luther’s father, having lost his wife in a most horrific way during the genocide, was suddenly a single parent with 3 small children who had themselves experienced severe trauma. However, his father refused his family’s urging, declaring he would care for and raise his children, as they needed a father's love, and he would provide it. His later marriage attempt to find a mother for his children did not work out for many reasons, not the least of which was that they were all working through the aftereffects of serious trauma.

Rwanda is still attempting to deal with the aftereffects of serious trauma. The trauma of war in Rwanda was compounded by the fact that this was a country that rose up against itself in a weird way. The main two groups, the Hutu and the Tutsi, had warred against each other for years and were set up for this animosity by outside forces. It is not the purpose of this article to go into the politics of the situation, so I will not. As with all such occupations, however, the people lived well with each other when left to themselves. They had intermarried and had peacefully co-existed for a long time. I asked Luther if he was Hutu or Tutsi, and he said he did not know. I asked about his mother, his father, and the answer was the same. Artificial standards based on the size of their heads, their physiognomy were established, but these standards were  just that: artificial and made up. Identification cards were issued based on these standards, and families suddenly found themselves divided against themselves.

"When that life comes on earth, no one has the right to take it. We don't know where it comes from. We give birth, but it is a long process and no one really knows. People are taking not only their land but their soul. We have something that is created by paper and yet, we have a place where we come from. No one knows where it comes from." 

This was my morning conversation with Luther while at Blackwater Falls. Beautiful morning, beautiful day. Looking out and viewing this amazing creation, Luther was reflecting on Gaza and how angry this conflict made him. 

“Equal rights is for both sides. It makes no sense. A government decides a war is in the best interest of the people, and will convince them. No one country has the right to decide for another. Only the people have the right to decide what is in their best interest. Who are we to make the decision for another? How can we sleep and now take breakfast when we have caused someone to die? How can they do this? How can they sleep? I have been wondering how their conscience will allow them. 

“I can't judge, but I can speak of my experience. I have lived a genocide. I know what it is like to live not knowing if I would wake up tomorrow, not knowing where I would be tomorrow. I know what we went through. I can't know what these people are feeling, but I know what I went through. I remember, after the genocide, as children, we were told, ‘Yes, there is nothing you can do to those who tried to kill us. But we can walk in front of them and show them we are still alive. We cannot do the same to them as they did to us, as it will come back again to us. But we can show them that we are alive!’

“We would go to the house of a neighbour and find our mug, our thing. You know, kids don't care and we were just kids. We said, ‘That is my mug.’ And the neighbour is ashamed in front of you and says, ‘Oh, I found it — you take it.’ Then you realise you are alive and say, ‘No, no, keep it.’ I know I am alive. How long will this all continue? No war is better than another. It is life taken, and it should not be.”