Patrice

We made our way downstairs to where the skulls and bones were being preserved. One skull had a name carved on it “Patrice” – we were told that in the Gacaca courts (where still 80,000 people are awaiting trials) one of the killers admitted to his crime of killing Patrice and told them where he was buried. Once his remains were dug up they then identified the skull with his name. Many skulls had markings of machete blows, some were broken and cracked. Surreal. The alter cloth was soiled with blood stains; a bullet, a metal file, a knife and a machete were laying there reminding us of the weapons used in these brutal slayings.

Outside the church was two graves; one of a priest killed in 1992 prior to the genocide and the other of a woman missionary who was sheltering these people. There were two large grave sites that contained an additional 41,000 victims. We just couldn’t wrap our minds around the enormity of all of this.

As we were leaving I glanced back inside the church; there stood a statue of the Blessed Mary with her hands folded in prayer; tears pooled in my eyes. Our ride back was sobering; there was this overwhelming sense of sadness and disbelief that this could have ever happened. Our hearts were torn with grief.

Never again!