A Sunday at the pool in Kigali, by Gil Courtemanche
Laura's review rocks! Here it is:
The most disturbing line for me in this book lies in Courtemancheʼs dedication. “Some readers may attribute certain scenes of violence and cruelty to an overactive imagination,'' he writes, ''they will be sadly mistaken.'' This early indication of the atrocities I was to read about should have prepared me. However, with every poetic description of bloodshed, abuse or molestation, my heart found its way to my mouth and my stomach turned. Like a car crash scene that disturbs and intrigues at the same time, this book captivated me through its characters and distressed me with its story. I think what perturbed me the most was the fact this narrative was based on real events. Reading about horrifying acts of genocide in the news stirs a reaction of detached pity, disbelief, sadness but reading the
real life events of the Rwandan genocide through the lives of characters (well enough developed by Courtemanche to feel real) ignited for me emotions that ripped me to the core.
What impressed me most about A Sunday at the pool in Kigali, was Courtemancheʼs honest yet possibly controversial (I think!) portrayal of the corrupt hierarchies of authority in place at the time. He portrays a post-colonial community where Belgian and Quebecois aid workers compete rather than co-operate, where consuls play golf rather than attend to the impending disaster and where the UN major-general thinks he's lucky to be on such a cushy posting. Courtemanche paints a very vivid picture of the vague understanding and care these foreign authorities have for Rwanda, ''that day in its major international bulletin CNN spent 20 seconds on the recurrence of ethnic problems in Rwanda, giving assurances, however, that foreign nationals were safe,'' and attempts to offer a history that is more unflinching and less naïve. Courtemanche is well aware of how easily such calamitous events can be trivialized. He speaks of the Ethiopian famine, ''which later aroused all the singers on the planet and left the West the memory of 'We Are the World' rather than of its hundreds of thousands of victims.'' In many ways, the descriptions Courtemanche gives of authorities at the time horrify me more than the descriptions of rape and death. His illustration of anglo characters present at the time is an interesting twist on the story and certainly provides contrast to his African characters (except of course for his alter-ego, Valcourt and love interest, Gentille).
Courtemancheʼs African characters see the prospect of doom at every turn yet remain nonchalant about it, perhaps because they see that hope is futile. ''Increasingly, in Kigali and even more in the countryside, life hung on a word, a whim, a desire, a nose too fine or leg too long.” The book gives the impression through this African characterisation as if here is just too much set against them - an AIDS epidemic, years of civil unrest, a deep-rooted hatred between races that cannot be rationalised or explained - to seek a life of tolerance, peace and hope. This characterisation plays out through the narrative as many characters engage in unprotected sex and willingly nominate themselves as Hutu or Tutsi, knowing the result of these actions to ultimately result in their death. One of the best two examples of this are the characters of Methode and Cyprien. Methode wanted to die in a hotel room, watching television and eating take-away, ''a triumphant end for a life of 32 years, an end he was no longer afraid of because he would rather die of AIDS than be hacked up by a machete or shredded by a grenade.''
Cyprien, Valcourtʼs HIV- positive friend, on the other hand, dies intoxicated with the sickness and hatred surrounding him. Cyprienʼs story, most of all the story of his death where he is savagely executed while being forced to make love to his already-raped wife, also underlines the curious blend of lust and violence that characterises so much of the bloodshed in the book. It is also highlighted throughout by Courtemancheʼs alter-ego Valcourt and his sexual obsession with the character Gentille. Much of the book is highly sexual. For me, this drew attention to both the issue of the AIDS epidemic in Africa and the link between sex and power and how both can be abused.
A Sunday at the pool in Kigali did leave me feeling both empty and depressed but also gave insight and a better understanding to the atrocities I had just read about and left me yearning for more information concerning the Rwandan genocide in 1994. It is not a book
you pick up for a light holiday read, but if you are looking for a book that will stir your emotions and conscious as well as take you on an insightful literary journey, then this book comes highly recommended.