The Ride of My Life
I’m on the most amazing ride of my life, through the hills of Rwanda to a village where we’re going to help build houses for the next two days. I’m so filled with a plethora of emotions.
This place is so beautiful, yet so poor. The children we pass and exchange waves with are so pure, and yet so rough. They’re in ragged, overused clothes, worn to tatters. Their faces have the dirt streaks of neglect; of a world that has neglected them.
And I struggle as I decide when to film. These are not zoo animals on exhibit. They are people. They are children. My heart aches to share with the world their existence. An existence that should shame the world.
Here are we, a caravan of buses with police forces. Observers that will simply leave; return to our comfortable lives.
I decide not to film yet – not until I develop relationships with the subjects. Instead I concentrate on the magnificent landscape, speckled with homes that look as though they grew from the ground just as the mountains did. It’s also a landscape that just 16 years ago was drowned in blood, during the genocide that took a million Rwandese lives.
We’ve learned, over these past few days, the remarkable lengths Rwanda has come since then. It is truly an impressive transformation. Yet these hills still appear haunted by those memories.
I am really looking forward to our on the ground work; to make a difference in some way. But I know it will be much smaller than the difference this trip will make in my life.