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A recent tragic past

March 29 – Rawanda. The Kigali Airport at night is like many small, economically-challenged capital airports around the world. The large Airbus from which I had just disembarked (over-sized in proportion to the one-story terminal), a private charter jet, and a tanker truck. Walking across the tarmac, I found myself staring deep into the shadows. Like the feeling you get when you discover you are driving past the grassy knoll in Dallas, there was that unmistakable sense that I was walking though a former crime scene.

I had no concern for my own personal safety, just a sobering recognition of the tragic events that passed through this nation 14 years ago. And the realization that nearly every adult I meet as I pass through passport control, customs, the taxi ride to the hotel, to the hotel and the gracious registrar who assigns me my room, experienced that crime personally.