Day Four

I woke up again at five in the morning, to Adrien shaking me. “We have a big day today Tatym.” He told me. To my ears it sounded like a growl. “We don’t have much time. We are already fifteen minutes late.” I didn’t want to upset him even more, so I jumped up and got ready to go. I was starving, but Adrien said we didn’t have enough time to eat today. We rode in silence to the next village. I swear I could hear Adrien crying in the front. We parked our bikes and Adrien walked off. Some of the guys joined me, but most were comforting Adrien, who was most definitely crying now. They all got on their bikes and rode in silence one by one. Confused, the only thing to do was follow. One guy, maybe Basore, rode up to me. “I speak a little English. Adrien is grieving. Six of his brothers died in the Genocide in 1994. They died today.” Basore rode off to join the group again, but I stayed in the back. What a horrible, horrible, horrible thing! I had read and seen movies about the Genocide. It was a terrible time of war. Now I knew how lucky I was to live in America. 

I stopped mid-thought when I got to the guys circled around a cluster of wooden crosses. Each one had a name on them. All the guys went around and said a prayer to the graves, then slowly offered a gift to each. Basore came up to me and motioned to put something down at each of the graves. I had nothing to give though. Looking in my seat bag, I got out a handful of quarters. American money. I put down a few at each grave, and Basore smiled at me. Then I realized. These were the graves of Adrien’s brothers. I had to give them more. Digging around in my seat bag, I found a spare tire. It was spray painted gold. Cutting the tire up, I wrapped a piece of it around each grave. All the guys stared at me in awe. I just shrugged and held up remainder of the tire. I stuck it back in my bag. Then we all joined hands again, and Adrien started a song. Half of the guys sang it it Kinyarwanda, the other half sang it in English. 

Rwanda yeah your moon shines bright

Rwanda over planned genocide

Rwanda, won't you be strong like a lion

Tune in the transistor

And listen to the news

Cause once a week it hits ya

Heart broken and blue

It's the voice over Africa

so stop peregrination 

So listen very closely to half a million dead souls

Rwanda yeah your moon shines bright

Rwanda over planned genocide

Rwanda, won't you be strong like a lion

It's complicated when facts come slow 

Mass destruction mass confusion

Whats the difference to the orphan

Orphans of the dead

When no more machine guns strike and there's silence instead

Rwanda yeah your moon shines bright

Rwanda over planned genocide

Rwanda, won't you be strong like a lion

Then everyone said their prayers again. This time, I added, “And may the six brothers rest in peace, unhurt and well until we visit again next year. Amen.” 

“Amen.” Everyone said. We spend a little bit longer at the graves then Adrien said, lets go. I am afraid if I stay here any longer I will get stuck here, unable to move. He hops on his bike and petals off. The other guys stay around the graves a little longer. Basore says, “Adrien will want to be alone today. We will go ride more, it is only ten in the morning. Do you need anything?” 

“Actually, I am really hungry.” I told Basore. He just looked at me. “I’m not sure I understand.” He said. I rubbed my hand on my stomach and pretended to eat something. Basore nodded and told the other guys. They all got on their bikes and rode down a path I didn’t notice earlier. I followed, unsure where we were going. 

We ended up at a market, where Basore led me to a stand of fruits. Bananas, potatoes, sorghum, and passion fruit were lined up on the table. I chose a banana and a large passion fruit. The total cost was 68 Rwandan Francs, which was less than 10 cents in America. I gave them a dollar in american money, which was 687 Rwandan Francs. He just stared at me. “Ahsante Sana, Mzungu.” He slowly said. I nodded back, then walked back to my bike. Basore came up to me. “I saw that.” He said. “How do you have that much money?” 

“That’s only a dollar in American Money. Most Americans have thousands and hundreds of dollars.” Basore stared at me. 

“Most people here get very little. Maybe seven francs.” He told me. I gawked. “Thats only one cent in American Money!” I cried. I hopped on my bike and rode off, angry with the way the world treated these poor Rwandans. Everyone else caught up to me and led me off to a trail. We rode in silence for a while. 

“Beep-beep, beep-beep!” My alarm went off, notifying me and everyone else it was time to turn around. I did a u-turn and started biking back, but realizing no one was following, I turned around again. The guys were gone in the distance, up on the next hill. Heart pumping, I steadily climbed the huge hill and rode down it. Then the next, and the next, until I caught up with the guys. We cycled a new route back to their village, where Basore rode me back to my house. I was hungry, but Adrien wasn’t there, so I couldn’t eat yet. But I was exhausted! I lay awake for a while, thinking about the day’s events and the Genocide. Eventually, my thoughts turned to my dog at home. I thought about the rolling, crashing ocean waves, and fell asleep.