'We are running but we don't know how to walk'
Kofi Setordji questions the world about the mechanism behind genocide
When Kofi Setordji saw the television images of a bulldozer shovelling hundreds of bodies into a ditch in Rwanda in 1994, as if they were no more than waste, he decided it was time to do something.
He considered it his duty as an artist to show the world what had happened in Rwanda. When it became apparent to him that nobody seemed to remember what had taken place, only four years after the mass murder among the Tutsi population, he took action. Setordji made a travelling monument from wood, metal, clay, waste materials and paint, that consists of a number of sculpture groups and objects. This artwork which weighs more than a ton, depicts the victims, refugees, politicians, judges and eyewitnesses. The directness of the imagery speaks to the conscience of the viewer. Rows of numbered terracotta faces painfully depict the anonymity of the thousands of victims: the monument was created in memory of the more than 800,000 direct and indirect victims of the genocide in Rwanda, lest they be forgotten.



Kofi Setordji worked on the genocide monument for two and a half years, and he is still adding new elements to this day. Although according to him he could have carried out the clay work, the casting, chiselling, burning and hammering in a five-month period, he needed the time to allow the project to develop emotionally. 'Every time I had to get the right emotion to be able to express what I feel about genocide'. This monument is exceptional in that it is not rooted to one location; the sculptures can be sent all over the world. The process of packing and unpacking the sculptures brings the subject to the fore again each time, explains Kofi. 'Monuments tend to loose their meaning. If you move it, even on the same square, it is alive, it has it's own relevance, it breathes air, to contemplate about life and extermination of other people and groups'. Fragile materials like terracotta and burned wood remind us how fragile life is.


The monument communicates a universal message. Setordji reminds us that genocide is not something which takes place among 'far-off tribes': it is a phenomenon that is carefully planned and prepared in the modern world. It is not an expression of hostility, similar to that found among animals. It is an ingenious operation that employs gas, machetes or firearms in an attempt to completely eradicate entire groups from the face of the earth. The question that seizes Kofi Setordji is how it is possible that people who consider themselves 'civilised' can all of a sudden go to the houses of their neighbours with the intention of killing them. Neighbours with whom they have lived side by side, with whom they have eaten, talked, did business with and attended church with, for generations. 'I do not see what is civilised about that. That is what I am trying to find out. What is it that is making man waking up one day, deciding to exterminate a whole group of people? For what reason? I am trying to understand this phenomenon. That is why I pose the question. We have this with us, let's find out what it is. It has happened everywhere, on all continents and races. Let's come face to face with it and see that this is the way we are. Maybe one day we will come into terms with it. If we know ourselves, couldn't we be better people? And life better on this earth? We are running, but we do not know how to walk. We are not looking at ourselves as the centerpoint of the discussion. I am not here to answer the questions, I am also searching.'



Setordji is not interested in the question of guilt. The mechanism through which people make planned and rationalised attempts to annihilate entire groups is not explained by pointing the finger at others. People look for scapegoats in order to distract attention from themselves. 'Like what is happening in The Hague now. People are trying to put Milosovitch in the spotlight but hey, let's look at ourselves'.


No action was taken in Rwanda, even although it was obvious for some considerable time that mass murder was being planned. During the slaughter, world leaders hesitated for a long time before labelling the murders as 'genocide' - that would after all mean that they were obliged to intervene. The multi-nationals in Rwanda looked the other way. This is symbolised in the monument by wooden heads without mouths, eyes or ears, with the poignant title 'See, speak, hear no evil'. The image of the 'All Seeing Eye' illustrates how, in these times of mass media, the world stood by and counted the dead without intervening.


Kofi provides part of the answer as to how people end up participating in genocide. In the monument, he portrays political, religious and military leaders as clown-like figures. The heads are painted in bright colours, but the sculptures are hollow. The stream of propaganda that these leaders spew forth stirs the masses, who are unable to see through the lies, to commit these crimes on their fellow humans. Setordji recognises a repeat of the beginning of this process in the developments since 11 September. Through propaganda from those in high places, the American citizens are being told to fear 'the Arab race' that apparently forms a danger to national security. The result is a witch-hunt against everyone who speaks Arabic.


The directness of this art project forces the public to discuss genocide and to make efforts to deal with the past. This extraordinary and unique project deserves to become one of the African continent's most important monuments.


Rhoda Woets
Interview: Maarten Rens


28 May 2002



The parts of the monument