Yesterday I visited Kigali's Genocide Memorial Centre. Talk about sad. For me, the hardest exhibit was the children's exhibit - the last exhibit on the guided tour of the museum. It was simply pictures of children, with a brief 5 point list underneath: the child's name, a personal trait, favorite food, best friend and manner of death. After exciting the internal exhibits center, I spent some time in the center's gardens, which are beautiful. They surrounding the graves of about 250,000 victims. I know that sounds morose. I think it is just something I think you have to do when you come to Rwanda. People would come and go. Some in full African garb. Some left flowers.

I took nearly 50 pictures of the gardens (you can't take pictures of the exhibits inside) and tried to upload them onto Picasso for you all to see in an album. However, internet speed was too slow to complete the upload. I also took a 45 second video to give you . There is only one internet provider in Rwanda, so there isn't any competition for them to try to improve.

Going to the genocide Museum meant stepping outside of the sheeshy district in Kigali, crossing the valley and seeing the homes that many of my coworkers live in.

That is the part of Africa I haven't seen yet. I walked 1/2 way home, before getting on a moto taxi to go the rest of the way. So many people are walking the streets in other neighborhoods. Woman, men and children balance huge loads on their heads - loads that look as heavy as them. Other times they push bicycles weighted down with sacks of food or canteens of water. Everyone looks at me though no one came up to beg. If I smile, they smile back.

I was a half hour late to church this morning because I walked up the wrong road. I stopped and asked for directions and a Rwandan walked me to where I needed to go. When I got there I gave him the equivalent of a dollar for his guidance - what he was expecting. From his little english, I pieced together that he was from the Congo, he was a security guard at New Cactus (a restuarant that was on the way to where we were headed), and he was studying at Kigali's university of technology. When we got there, I asked him if he wanted to go to church. he told me that he was going later to his church. This was the the first time I know a Rwandan was lying to me...when I approached him he had been smoking. Rwandan Christians will not touch alcohol or cigarrettes. (The Christian foreign nationals drink or smoke in secret...)