Hotel Rwanda

Last night, Reid and I watched Hotel Rwanda, which was probably a bad idea.

After seeing Guinea fall apart for a couple of weeks last January--going to sleep to the sound of gunfire, seeing the black smoke of protestors, and living the chaos that is African political change--watching true war/genocide was a bit much. I think it just hit too close to home.

Interestingly enough, I only cried at one part - when the foreigners abandon the Rwandans. All the white people with their passports rush to get on busses to evacuate, and Paul learns that the rest of the world does not care and will not send any intervention forces. I think deep sentiments of guilt still linger in my heart, as I abandoned my family and friends for safety. And then for the American life. And I have yet to go back.