U.N. International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (Arusha, Tanzania)

I guess the point of any journey, literal or figurative, is to disrupt or shatter or undo all previous preconceptions. To see the gap in what really exists out in the world and what we are told exists. This whole trip has been saturated with that realization.

Right now I'm back in Nairobi but still very much thinking about the day I spent yesterday in Arusha, while still in Tanzania. I went to the U.N. International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, where almost 60 people have been or are in the process of being tried for participating in the genocide in Rwanda that left close to 1,000,000 Tutsis and (moderate/sympathetic to Tutsi) Hutus dead in just over 3 months in 1994.

From previous experience, I know that court proceedings don't have the climactic arc or drama of Law and Order - often times, they're pretty boring to be honest. This was no different, except what distinguished this case was the seeming boredom of all involved in the process. That and them looking absolutely exhausted. Burnt out. Nothing left. It seemed like they'd all been in this room for the past decade or so having a cyclic discussion with no end.

The way the court room is set up is in a rectangular shape with a glass window making up one of the four walls - this is called the "public gallery" where anyone can come and watch the proceedings with a headset (that translates into about 5 or 6 different languages). Three cases are convened simulataneously, so one can travel between the three rooms and watch each for as long or little as you like.

If someone has been a victim of the genocide (or was there during the genocide) they are surrounded with a curtain, and their identities are kept anonymous for their protection. This was the case in the first court room I went into. A woman was behind the curtain being asked if she knew of, or was familiar with, any of a long list of names being read off to her.

The majority of my time though was spent in the 2nd court room. It was eery. As I walked into the gallery almost everyone in the court room glanced over at me. You'd think that with all the people moving in and out of the gallery that such an occurrence wouldn't really warrant much attention. I soon began to understand why.

An Italian priest, who was visible (not behind a curtain), was being questioned by the prosecutor about one of his parishioners (please excuse my ignorance on all the religious labeling with this...which I'm sure is quite inaccurate). In any event, one of his parishioners, who was a noted local politician, was being accused of coordinating the mass killing of Tutsis. One example I heard about, which included a number of local Hutu religious figures was the murdering of classrooms full of school children who were promised safe refuge in churches only to find armed infantries of Hutu soldiers who hacked them to death with machetes or locked them in the church and set them on fire.

The Italian priest being questioned was very stoic throughout. Never looked up. Thought before answering each question and hardly acknowledged anything or anyone. The only time I saw the priest show any emotion was the only time I saw anyone else show any reaction to much - when the translator stopped translating into English, when the priest was told he was speaking too fast and giving answers that were too long by the presiding judge, and when the lead defense lawyer objected to a certain line of questioning by the prosecutor. With the objection, the prosecutor slammed his mic off and seemed to curse profusely down at the floor and at his team, threw his hands on his head, breathing out deeply and staring at the ceiling. Neither the objection nor the prosecutor's response seemed to have much to do with the actual matter at hand, but rather ego. It seemed more like a pissing contest. Both sides of their exchange seemed equally absurd and misplaced. It was like anyone was looking for anything to diffuse the exhaustion, frustration, tedium, whatever.

After the priest was told that he was being too long-winded by the judge he pretty much answered mono-syllabically. At one point the prosecutor had asked the priest why his parishioner had said that he moved out of politics, to which the priest responded:

"The political atmosphere."

I was like...huh? So was everyone else. And the prosecutor responded,
"And to what kind of political atmosphere are you referring? Please be more specific in your answer."

And the priest answers, "Please be more specific in your question."

It was really intense to watch all these incredibly loaded and haunting layers unfold. Everyone had so much underneath everything they said or did, it was amazing to see how they each coped with it. Some of the lawyers, like that previous example, seemed to act out - almost like a bratty teen. Some chose to choke everything in and remain almost robotic - like the priest. Others seemed petty and easily distracted - like the presiding judge who constantly seemed to stop and intervene on silly small things that were happening.
Others just took a whole other approach - like most of the security that worked at the U.N. I.C.T.R. - who were some of the most casual and jovial, fun-loving folks I came across in my entire trip to Tanzania.

Walking through security initially, this dude with a huge smile says, almost playfully taunting,
"Do you have a camera?"

To which I replied, "No, do I need one?"

He giggled at my response and pulled out two sign in books.

"This one is where you sign in your camera. And this one is where you sign in your gun" - and he falls out laughing with his head back as if he said the funniest thing of all time.

I sort of looked quizically at him and laughed nervously.

"Just playing my brother!" he said as I passed through the metal detectors, "Have fun!" he said with a parting smile, as if I was about to get on a ride at Disney World.

Wow.

Anyway, I'm back in Nairobi. Recorded 2 more songs with Kamikazee and Mama C. on Sunday night and had a nice bus ride back yesterday. Have plans to visit the Twana Twitu AIDS orphanage tomorrow.

I'll write again soon. Much love.