Dark Humor

There is nothing funny about genocide. No one's laughing at political unease, 9-11, Dachau or Darfur. In truth I feel bad even writing these words as there are certain topics for which it will always be too soon.

In my Mass Media class we are currently studying a unit on Film. As part of the curriculum I wanted to show a film with media relevance, something serious, yet gripping enough for my rambunctious crew. With the slim pickings offered in the Payap library I settled on Hotel Rwanda. Knowing my students would have no idea of a few essential facts (namely that Rwanda is a country,) I devoted last week to history lessons and background information.

Nervous for how to broach such a weighty topic I thought back to my freshman year seminar on Humans Rights in Literature. Our tiny professor would sit in front of the room painting horrifying yet simple word pictures in his Kenyan lilt. While we wide-eyed students listened on to tales of events that brought us such unrest and shame for treating them so academically.

I entered the classroom passing out a sheet I had created with notes on Rwanda. 1 million dead in 3 months, cultural divides first introduced by the Belgians who didn't stay around to see the massacre they made.

I wrote on the board; "Hutu." A quiet giggle escaped from the back of the room. Followed by a shake of stiffled laughter until I turned around and everyone in the room was smiling. "What?" I said. "In Thai," my students told me, "Hutu means butt hole." The word "butt hole" surprised me and suddenly I was smiling too. We shared a laugh, perhaps only I realizing the black comedy of the situation.

"Tutsi," I wrote. This time no one even tried to hold in their laughter. A loud class wide guffaw shook the room. "What!" I turned around facing my laughing students. "In Thai," they told me, "Tutsi means Tranny."

"So," said one bright student, "What you are saying to us is that the butt holes killed the trannys." The class shook once again. People like Palmmy and Pom held one another in uncontrollable laughter and I tried my best to reign the class back into composure. Finally I gave in. "Just shout!" I said. "Get it out of your systems so that it's not funny anymore." The students spent a few minutes screaming "Hutu" and "Tutsi" scandalizing a million different cultures for a million different reasons. They left the class without the quiet reflection I had anticipated but it seems that the film may have altered their amusement.

We have only watched half of Hotel Rwanda so far but already those 2 words aren't funny anymore. Instead of sophomoric laughter at the mention of Hutus and Tutsis their eyes now widen unblinking. "Not a true story, Ajarn?" "Yes a true story," I say. "Why so cruel, Ajarn?" "I don't know," I say.

So forgive me Kigali, for the potty humor at your expense. But do know that there are now at least 35 more minds itching with the thought of, "why so cruel?"