Umuntu mubi, umutima mubi (A bad person, a bad heart)

Last week, Katie and I had a run-in with something I hadn’t yet come across in my three weeks in Kigali – a truly exceptional racist. More specifically – and excuse the alliteration – a racist Russian, who also happens to be our neighbour. We had gone wandering through the compound searching for the American girls who also live there, under the pretence of a visit but mostly wanting to scope out how much nicer their house was than ours. The girls weren’t home… but the Russian upstairs was, and invited us up for a chat and a banana. I can say quite honestly that the banana was the only part of the evening that didn’t make me want to throw up.

Initially it seemed that this encounter was going to be a ridiculous story to share with the other girls. Turns out the Russian is an expert in silkworm breeding and cultivation, and he is here as a consultant with a UN body to teach Rwandese the processes involved. He showed us a book he’s writing, half in Russian and half in English, and showed us some silkworm eggs he kept stored in his fridge… It seemed like a pretty random thing to happen, but quite laughable overall. But then he got away from the topic and neither of us felt much like laughing anymore.

I’ve learned from past experiences with closet racists that they are the variety who will wait until they think they have a sympathetic audience, and then they let comments slip out as if they are logical and shared by all. First it was a diatribe about how Rwandans are lazy, and don’t want to learn or to work. I’m curious about the Rwandans he is working with, as that’s not been my experience nor the experience of anyone else I know – in fact, Rwandans have a reputation as being dedicated and hardworking overall. Then it was how they are all beggars, and how he hates the children talking to him. Then he was singing the praises of the supermarket for “light-skinned people.” Then it was a rant that they have no good restaurants, no culture, and no history – this coming from a man who admitted he rarely leaves his home! Then he started using the word “nigger,” and it was at that point I nearly snapped. Katie’s numerous attempts at redirecting the conversation to his work failed over and over; he was just so set on discussing all the faults he sees in Rwandese and their country. I don’t remember the last time I was so thoroughly offended, and yet in a position where I just didn’t know what to say.

I was truly hoping not to encounter this kind of sentiment here, because I have no time for people who can manage to think so stupidly. What was worse was his constant repetition of “I’m not racist, but…” The second that comes out of someone’s mouth, they’ve given themselves away in my opinion, because they are acknowledging that what they are about to say is inappropriate and unacceptable. I’ve become aware over the past few years that a certain level of paternalism and condescension is not necessarily uncommon among expat populations working in the developing world, but to come from someone here on a grant to do development work… It’s disappointing. Initially when he told us he was going to cut his two-year contract down to one year (leaving him with six months left in Rwanda), I thought it was too bad, as the possibilities for lucrative employment out of what he is meant to be teaching are rather good. Now though, I feel he’d be doing Rwanda a favour if he left.

It’s a struggle for me, because I do understand that this place is not for everyone. But at the same time, it’s so hard for me to imagine how anyone could feel this way about a place that I’ve come to love after such a short time. It’s also frustrating to see someone involved in development can be so close-minded, and brings to mind a lot of the ethical and moral issues of development I’ve studied in the past. I suppose if nothing else, it was a learning experience in Rwanda – but one I would gladly have gone without.