The Catholic Church in 100 Days

A little background first -- I will be writing a response to my viewing of the film 100 Days directed by Nick Hughes. The film exposes the injustice and brutual reality that was the Rwandan genocide. While the film follows a few main characters, as it is a docudrama, it is ultimately through these individuals and the fellow Tutsis murdered along with them (with the exception of Josette and her boyfriend who still must live to experience the aftermath of the genocide) that the audience is able to fully realize the horror of the Rwandian genocide ( an experience that many cannot or choose not to comprehend).

What I found to be one of the most interesting issue explored throughout the movie was the hypocritical role of the Catholic Church. One such representative of the church, the Catholic priest from the West, tried to indoctrinate Rwandans into the catholic faith through his Bible preachings. This same priest is later speaking to a French man and expressing his view of the Africans he is "trying to help". Not only does he refer to Africans as "dogs" but he also expresses his belief that "they are like children" and therefore, "their souls are more open". This priest represents the internalization of a colonized understanding of Africa and the people within it. The priest has internalized this faulty sense of superiority, one that ultimately deems the people of Africa, as inferior to Westerners. In his eyes, his position is to "help" these lower beings in a quest for salvation. But who is it that really needs salvation? It is more scary that he asserts that because they are like children, 'their souls are more open', for that means he ultimately wants to control their ideology rather than encourage them to think and question for themselves. His purpose is not to help them establish their own ideas of religion, but rather to brainwash them into believing the only choice is his way (the only choice is the predominate religion of the West). While some may view his presence in Africa as harmless, I feel that he represents all that is wrong and potentially dangerous about the Catholic Church itself. Ultimately, when the Rwandans are in serious need, he leaves back to the West, having "helped" or "saved" no one.

The Catholic Church is not only represented by a white, Westerner, but also by an African priest as well. Though this priest masquerades under the guise of a helper of the Tutsis and an advocate for preventing genocide, in reality, he perpetuates the murder of thousands of indviduals and his own rapture of young girls by manipulating people's view of him as a priest. It is disgusting that the priest pretends to be helping the Tutsis find refuge in the church, while ultimately knowing (and participating in ) their upcoming deaths. In fact, it was easier to attack and kill a multiplicity of Tutsis that were hiding in the church, then it was to seek and find them individually. The church itself represents the hypocritical nature of this priest that represents it because on the surface it seems as if it is a safe haven, when in reality it is quite the opposite. It is also disturbing that the priest, pretending to save Josette and other women like herself, rapes them instead. Not only is he preying upon their trust in him (as he is a priest) but also their fear of a brutal death. He exploits these young women's bodies and minds with no remorse. Though many would like to argue that this is an unfair representation of the Catholic Church, it would be detrimental to ignore this issue, an issue not isolated to one or two incidents.

What I think is particularly effective about this is that it explores this issue with both a Western priest and an African priest. It exposes the injustices perpetuated and internalized by the representatives of the Catholic Church, in the name of the "greater" good from both standpoints. While the Western white priest internalizes and outwardly expresses his superiority over the Africans, the African priest uses his position in the Church for his own corruption.

Ultimately, the problem that can no longer be ignored (an issue exposed throughout the film in its relation to the Rwandan genocide) is the Catholic Church itself.

An Introduction Is Never Too Late

Hey everyone!


Just in case you've stumbled upon my blog, perhaps because your mind also wanders, let me give you a little background on myself and the purpose of this blog.  My name is Crissy and I am a student at California State University Northridge.  As you can already tell, if you have read any of the below entries, this blog's focus is African Literature and Film.  If you're knowledgable on the subject, feel free to post what you'd like.  If you're not, you can always respond to one of my entries and give me your perspective.

I'll leave you with a link to a video of a song performed by one of my favorite artists: Bob Dylan "The Times Are a Changin"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ncCyL_g28I

In Retrospect, 'Everything Counts'

The goal of this particular blog post is to retell a story from Ama Ata Aidoo's collection of short stories, No Sweetness Here from the perspective of one of the characters. While the story I chose, "Everything Counts" allows the reader to understand the perspective of the main female character, it is written in third person. I will attempt to rewrite the story in her perspective and in this way develop her character's arc from the acceptance of what she use to consider minute changes to the realization that it all counts in the end.

In Retrospect, 'Everything Counts'

I don't understand why my friends always ridicule me about my wig. I don't have the time to waste on my own hair, and has nothing to do with my revolutionary feelings. I always tell them of the importance of revolution and think it a waste of my time and theirs to focus on such small details. If we want change, arguing about these things will only deter us.

The other day, I was talking with the boys at school. I still could not understand how my wearing a wig could have anything to do with the revolution. One told me "Because it means that we have no confidence in ourselves". Though I understood what he meant, I told them exactly how I felt. I said, "Listen, my brothers, if we honestly tackled the problems facing us, we wouldn't have time to worry about such trifles as wigs" (2) and that's exactly what they are, trifles. I will continue to wear my wig as I please, it simply does not mean enough to count in the scheme of things. Africa has too many serious problems that need attention; focusing on a wig is just an easy way out.

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I recently got married to Fifi and could not bear to do it here in Africa. I've just come home to find that everything has changed and I'm not sure what to do. It seems as if there has been some sort of crisis! All the women I knew who had black skin have light skin. And those WIGS! They're everywhere. My mind is spinning and I don't know where to begin. Maybe I can actually promote some kind of change as I begin my job as a lecturer. Yeah, that will be a good avenue to get people thinking and I can tell them what is what. Not only will I tell them that their roles will be crucial in nation building, but I will also reiterate their responsibility to take action.
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What a nightmare! It's hard to imagine that this is really true. The other day as I was lecturing, I could not overcome this pestering jealousy. These young girls were all so beautiful. It wasn't until later that I realized they were all wearing wigs! Not one of them had their natural hair, except me, an outcast. Not only were they all wearing wigs, but they were the biggest ones I've seen so far! It made me so uncomfortable that I did not know what to do. Luckily, I did not faint though I could feel my mind slipping from me. I could only think about what those boys always use to tell me....

Thinking things could only get better from there, I continued my lectures with a faulty optimism. As the weeks went on though, things only got worse. The world as I had known it seemed to flip on its head. Even my relatives, those that were dear to my heart, kept asking such things as "What car are you bringing home, Sissie?" and "oh, we hope you brought a refrigerator. Because you simply cannot find one here these days" (6). How could I tell them that it is the cars, refrigerators, the wigs, and the seemingly small imitations of white men and women that is ruining us, our people, our country, our identities?

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I think because Fifi has been gone, I've become obsessed with this ideal of beauty, or rather, what it has become now. I decided to go to a beauty pageant and though I instinctively knew what was to come, I did not realize how thoroughly disgusting it would be. The girls were not even beautiful and all the contestants wore wigs except one. This one girl free of a wig was the lighest skinned and had perfectly flowing hair (she was a mulatto). Of course, she was the winner!

I rushed home feeling that at any moment all my anger and pain would burst out of me. Tears were uncontrollably rushing down my face. I could not keep anything down and vomited out all my frustration and all my realized fears. I could have been there for days.

I only wish that I had listened to those boys all those years ago. It was foolish of me to dismiss them. In retrospect, I realize now that every little thing counts!

Listen to "Everything Counts" by Depeche Mode :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1t-gK-9EIq4