Armodoxy for Today: Genocide Degree of Hatred

Toward the end of my first week in Rwanda, I made a very unusual discovery. I guess being in such a new and different country had consumed my attention to the point that I had not noticed this, or perhaps because it’s something you really don’t think about. But, after several days meeting with genocide survivors, I realized there was no one with grey hair!

The year was 2006 and I had been invited with a group of six educators from USC to visit the country that had experienced genocide 12 years earlier. The people I was meeting on the streets and in gatherings were children during the time of the genocide in 1994. But it just didn’t seem right. There had to be a few older people. There had to be some grey-haired people left. If there were, I wasn’t seeing them.

I asked around and one of our hosts took us for a drive out of town. We arrived at a camp for widows and orphans, and there, there they were: people with grey hair! These were people who, instead of being slaughtered, were allowed to live. There were about 200 ladies assembled in an outdoor auditorium to meet with our group.

After we were cordially introduced to the group, the turn was theirs. Our host introduced this group of genocide survivors to us. These were ladies whose husbands were taken at night and killed. And it goes without saying that taking advantage of the absence of the men, these ladies were brutally raped and abused. As tragic and as painful it was to listen to their stories, the question still remained: why were these women allowed to live? Why were they given a pass on martyrdom so that their hair could age with them? Why were these grey-haired ladies so special?

To continue with the introductions, and to make a point to us about the ravages of genocide, our host asked the ladies, “How many of you have HIV-AIDS?” All of them – yes, all of them – raised their hand!

Let it sink in. These 200 women at this one camp were allowed to live because they would then infect future partners, insuring death to survivors who fled the genocide.

Genocide is no ordinary crime. It’s not war. It’s the deliberate, sanctioned and systematic destruction and annihilation of a national, ethnic, racial or religious group with the intent to destroy the group as such. Imagine the degree of hatred toward a group of people that measures are taken, in this case infecting them with HIV-AIDS, so that if by chance someone survived they’d be stricken down.

My grandmothers and grandfathers were children when they fled the Genocide in the Ottoman Empire. It wasn’t until they had grey hair that I got to know them. We’re always thankful that countries in the Middle-East, Europe, the Americas opened their doors to them. Fortunately, there were people who cared. It’s something I can’t forget and am bound morally to call out the horrendous crime of genocide. It’s not a political issue, it’s a humanitarian issue.

Today we echo our prayer, Lord Jesus Christ, you who opened the eyes of the blind man, open our eyes which are blinded by hatred. You who gave hearing to the deaf man, open our ears which can no longer hear the cry of babies. You who loosened the tongue of the mute, open our mouths so we may share our voice for justice. You who restored strength in the legs of the paralyzed man, give us the stamina to the walk to bring aid. You who opened the hearts of those who hate, open our hearts to give to those in need. Amen.