Nights at the hotel

Our hotel in Kigali had an outside restaurant, and following a long day of classes and field trips, a group of us usually met downstairs after we returned home from dinner. We grabbed a few tables on the back lawn, ordered food or drinks and talked for a few hours before bed.

We gathered under those bright stars as a way to keep our minds off the emotional roller coaster we were on during the day, and it soon became an important reason why we grew so close as friends. Most of the time, we didn't talk about what we had seen and heard during the day. But when we did, we spoke freely, without fear that our naivete would offend our guides and teachers.

Before we left for Rwanda, our professor told us that what we were about to experience would create a firm bond between us. Gallimore shared a story from a few weeks earlier, when she had visited the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. She was attending a seminar with a group of other professors, and their interaction had been limited. But that had changed after there was a shooting in the same building. Going through such a traumatic event, Gallimore told us, caused them to become closer.

At that point, looking around the classroom at the eight strangers going on the trip, I found that hard to believe. But late in the evening, in the restaurant outside the hotel, we began to understand and to form the type of bond Gallimore thought we would.

All 20 of us — the group from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and the group from MU — grew together in so many ways. We taught each other a lot: about other countries we had visited and other languages we knew, about sports, music and art. The nights at the hotel were a way for us to get together and relax, to share and be ourselves.

We built friendships with the young wait staff at the hotel and our student tour guides from Rwanda. We played UNO, staged silly competitions like who could do the best impressions, quizzed each other on our Kinyarwanda and laughed until we were told the restaurant was closing. Usually, we helped pack up the plastic lawn chairs before calling it a night.

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Coming home a changed person

It’s been almost five months since I have returned home from Rwanda, and I still find myself thinking or speaking about my experience any chance I get.

In those two weeks, I established friendships I hope to maintain for many years. Our student guides from Rwanda shared their stories, supported each of us in our exploration of their country and culture. They showed us that this small but populous African country — it's about the size of Maryland and home to 10.5 million people — is defined by much more than genocide. I became close to the other students and professors from MU and the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, and I found a mentor in Rangira Béa Gallimore.

Most of us from MU have tried to stay in close contact despite our busy schedules. We send each other news stories and other interesting articles or Web sites we find relating to Rwanda and our studies from the summer. The eight of us are permanently bound by our once-in-a-lifetime discovery of Rwanda. And we will forever be thankful for Professor Gallimore and her ambition to bring two disparate worlds together.

With her continuing help, a few of us will be returning to Rwanda to work with various organizations — with our own aspirations — to help Rwanda continue to flourish.

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Melissa Urscheler is an MU senior studying convergence journalism with a minor in history. Urscheler, of O'Fallon, Ill., will return to Rwanda after graduation to intern with a human rights organization.


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