Carl Wilkens Visits Long Beach High School

Carl Wilkens is known for being the only American who chose to remain in Rwanda after the Rwandan genocide began. He is an American Christian Missionary and the former head of the Adventist Development and Relief International in Rwanda. Every year Carl Wilkens visits schools in the United States to speak about his experience in Rwanda.

On the first of February, Wilkens visited Long Beach High School. Wilkens was invited by Rachel Koegel, a teacher at the High School, to address the new Silent Stories class where genocide is studied. In this class, not only is genocide studided, but so are the stories of those whose voices have been undermined. Mrs. Koegel and Theresa Scudiero organized the event to raise awareness of genocide. Mrs. Scudiero gifted students with autographed copies of Wilkens’ book titled I am not leaving. Without the additional help of Mrs. Scudiero, this event would not be possible.

Wilkens spoke of his move to Rwanda with his young family in the Spring of 1990, which neared the start of the genocide. He also spoke of his ventures through the streets full of violent-fueled individuals. He would go out to retrieve the basic necessities of: food, water, and medicines to groups of orphans trapped around the city. Through Wilkens’ actions, the lives of hundreds were saved. Wilkens and his wife, Teresa, founded an educational nonprofit called World Outside My Shoes, where they traveled globally, full-time to tell stories from Rwanda. In Wikens’ book, he voices “that stories and service are two of the most powerful tools that every person possesses to build peace”(Wilkens, I’m Not Leaving).

One student from Silent Stories says that Wilkens “gave [them] a new perspective on genocide and the concept of forgiveness”. They admired Wilkens “evolved mindset”, of learning to “forgive and move on”. Another student adds that they absorbed Wilkens' teachings of “replacing anger with forgiveness'”, finding it to “deepen [their] understanding” of the healing process that comes with trauma. Wilkens left a long-lasting imprint on the minds of the students, leaving many with new found understandings of forgiveness, healing, and finding inner peace. Students from Talented Writers, who were also at the event, wrote poetry, inspired by these themes. Featured below is baba’s body by Laika Khan, a senior, and (forever) reminders by Marin Meola, a freshman.

Laika Khan baba’s body

baba -- he had a body to lean against, with hands like cradles, calloused, curled around his wailing grandson’s head in comfort, mantras spilling from his lips. bismillah. bismillah. bismillah. where did he go, that skinny, sixteen year old boy, roughoused in a home full of men? he’s walking by, an army man. people salute him as he passes. he was a man of secrets, man of steel. he liked to leave the windows open; then, you could hear the songbird’s melodies, feel the summer sun take hold of your forearm, the sky slip fingers of cool breeze. In the evenings, he’d feed the chicks. and he loved to learn; nights, his kids would cling to his shoulders as he read, practiced english out loud. baba! sawaal hai, his kids would yell. yes? and he had a life to learn from, with years spent in a foreign cell, battle wounds rotting his foreign body. when his wife died young, he squeezed all seven of his children between his arms; he had a body to hold onto. then, he was known as the young widower. before, he had been a motherless father. later, he would become a mother’s father, silent, stern, wrinkles cracking the planes of his face. where did that smile go? that man discovered aliens in the mirror, watched families kneel by graves. they would never know the man behind the rifle.

Marin Meola

(forever) reminders

guilty blood lingers on his calloused hands

he's not really sorry

is he really s o r r y ?

she hugs him they share sobs i watch

with clenched hands

with clenched teeth

                    you’ll (never) let it go
                        you’ll (never) forgive

                            

because when winters snow blankets us

and when summer suns shine down

It still happened It a l l still happened