Nyamata Memorial

The smell was musty. The steps were steep. Darkness surrounded me. I was entering a mass grave. The bones were stacked on shelves. Skulls occupied the top shelf. They told the stories of their cause of death. Some had been shoot, hit, and smashed. Some had holes. Others were missing the back half. Some were left without a face. Arm and leg bones found their residence on the next two shelves. These are real people. People who sought shelter within a church. 
The church roof was full of bullet holes. A grenade hade destroyed half of the metal door. Windows were broken, holes in walls, and blood stains splattered all around. The alter had its' original tablecloth, stained with blood. The back wall was stained with the blood of innocent children whose heads had been smashed against it. Blood stained clothing of victims covered the benches. 
I stood in a church where 10,000 people were brutally murdered. The church was thought to be a safe place. Who would kill inside God's house? Genocide knows no bounds.
History and evil have never become so real to me.

** these are my real reflections, observations, and emotions after visiting the Nyamata Memorial. To learn more about my trip to Rwanda please read my next post "Rwandan Adventures".