…to have been born birds and have freedom–after all, look at what we humans are doing to ourselves.
–Immaculee Ilibagiza in her book, Left to Tell, about living through the Rwandan genocide.
These were her thoughts as she heard birds singing outside the window on her first morning in the 3 ft. by 4 ft. (.9 m by 1.2 m) bathroom which would be her home (refuge? hiding place? prison?–at different times, it felt like all of those) with five other women for 90 days.
The book has just about left me speechless. At this point, I find it difficult to think about summarizing it or even selecting significant quotes. In a story full of life, death, hatred, forgiveness, unspeakable grief, incomprehensible destruction and sorrow upon sorrow, this little quote somehow stood out to me, even though it doesn’t really represent the book as a whole.
Left to Tell spoke to me on many levels and also added to my thinking and wrestling seriously with what I often experience as paradoxes in what it means to love like Jesus, care deeply about justice, forgive our enemies, weep with those who weep and care about those who are suffering.
So although the quote that opened this post is not representative of the bigger stories and themes in the book, any other quotes I might have chosen seem like they need to be read as part of the whole and not as a random paragraph read in isolation on the internet.
I’m glad I read this book, even though it is one which I think will (as it should) haunt me.
Anything else I try to say seems like it would take away from the author’s story.
[...] started this post on Friday right after my children left for the weekend. But now, I’ve just finished reading Immaculee Ilibagiza’s account of “Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust” [...]
Yes, look at what we humans are doing to us, right in our own neighborhood,
John, who lives in Americus, Georgia tells Manuel’s story. John learned about Manuel on July 26th, 2007 . Manuel had been in the county jail since April 26th and not seen a lawyer in the three months and the swollen thyroid gland and grown larger and Manuel was spitting blood.
Manuel had not sneaked into the U. S. He had been a resident for thirty years, the last three in Americus.
Fast forward to October 25 (I am certain the days were not ‘fast’ for Manuel), and he is still in jail, no lawyer, do medical treatment despite John’s efforts to get the justice system to work. So John went to the jail, camera in hand, then went to the local newspaper who ran the story on page one.
Result, Manuel got the needed operation on November 7th
but he is in jail, today, because he can make bail. But there is hope simply because John walks faithfully into the jail with his friend, Jesus…..
Sorry for the typos. It’s my age. ‘he can’t make bail’…..
Nope, it’s not the age. It’s Murphy’s Law for the Internet–Regardless of your age and no matter how many times you proofread your comment, you will usually find at least one more mistake once you hit submit. It happens to me frequently. One thing I like about my own blog is that I can go back and edit. I think when I edit a post it shows back up as a new post in Bloglines, so I don’t often do that when I find a mistake, because it seems annoying to have an old post show up as new there. So, I just put up with the irritation of the typo at times in that venue (keeps me humble, too.)
But with comments, I like going back and being able to make corrections.
Anyway, with regards to your first comment. Thank you for sharing such a powerful story that connects with the things I’m thinking about on this post as well as interacting with at various other blogs.
That last sentence will stick with me: “But there is hope simple because John walks faithfully into the jail with his friend, Jesus.”