The Rwandan Reconciliation

After two hours of clearing brush, digging boulders from the earth and, to everyone's delight, finding a stolen television hidden in the tall grasses, the community gathered under a shelter at the soccer field to discuss an important piece of news: One thousand prisoners who had been jailed without trial for 10 years were about to be returned to this community of about 8,000 people for trial before the gacaca courts. Many were already in the neighborhood, recognizable by the pink outfits prisoners must wear, working on public service projects by day and returning to prison at night.

Two years earlier, during a similar program, released prisoners had attacked people who had turned them in and community members had avenged murders allegedly committed by those who had been released. How to reintegrate the prisoners more successfully was now a major concern. Moreover, many prisoners' wives had remarried and established new lives during the decade their men were jailed. The prisoners would need food, shelter and jobs.

The anxieties about the prisoner release were compounded by the country's extreme poverty and crumbling infrastructure. According to my friend with USAID, approximately 90 percent of all Rwandans are unemployed or underemployed. Running water and electricity work intermittently; on every street, people line up with large yellow jerrycans to fill at public wells.

People lack the most rudimentary tools -- like screwdrivers or monkey wrenches -- and many of the country's craftsmen have been murdered or jailed. There aren't many animals to help clear land for farming. No burros, no oxen pulling plows. Farmers hoe by hand. Most Rwandans subsist on about 80 percent of the daily calories needed for healthy living. The annual per capita income is $261. Children receive free education only up to grade six, and few families have the $130 it costs for each additional year of schooling.

So it was no surprise when a man rose to question the mayor at the soccer field and said: "Our neighborhood was promised a paved road four years ago. Money was raised, yet the road building has not begun. Why not? Why do we have a shortage of water? Why does our electricity constantly go out?" Everyone cheered.

At the gacaca another accuser was sworn in. He was the brother of Concord, who died. He said that Bimenyimana was telling the truth and that another prisoner, Ntabakunzi, was with Nicodemus when the killings occurred. A woman in a yellow outfit and headdress rose to suggest that the tribunal wait for Ntabakunzi's testimony. Another woman rose and said, "Ntabakunzi is the man who raped me." The chief judge of the tribunal asked her to return the following week to give sworn testimony. A man in the back row talked directly to Nicodemus: "If given time to speak, tell the truth. Even if Ntabakunzi is not here to testify, please tell us the truth. What happened?"

That is the question that this green, hilly country is facing. Once the story has been told, the dead can rest and the survivors can get on with life.

It seemed as though every family included a victim, a perpetrator or a collaborator -- sometimes all three. My friend told me that a Rwandan colleague of hers at the Friends Peace House described this scene: " 'People killed and saved people at the same time. Twelve people broke in through the roof of my home and started killing. They hacked my parents with machetes before my eyes. When someone attacked me, the person killing my parents stopped, said "no children" and got everyone to leave.' "

The application form for attending gacaca asks people to explain the benefit to them and to Rwanda of their attendance. My son and I felt we had an obligation to bear witness so we could tell others about this place. In the children's room of the Kigali genocide memorial there are pictures: "David: loved football, made people laugh, wanted to be a doctor, killed by machete." Or, "Lisa, infant: favorite food: mother's milk, favorite person, mom, thrown against wall."

Last week I learned from my translator that the gacaca court, after hearing further evidence, found Nicodemus guilty and sent him back to prison.

Despite the stain of violence, Rwandan society appears to have strengths that could help it heal. The young woman who translated the gacaca hearings has adopted three genocide orphans and taken in a close friend who had been unfairly jailed and lost his job. And people conduct themselves with dignity. In day-to-day life, I saw no littering, no begging, no eating in public and a pride in personal appearance that defies the omnipresent dust. And in the gacaca, where it would have been understandable for anger to burst forth, there was restraint and decorum.

Rwandans have a saying: "God does his work throughout the world by day, and comes home to Rwanda to sleep at night." If so, maybe Rwandans will one day be able to sleep more peacefully.

Author's e-mail:

sarelkromer@earthlink.net

Sarel Kromer, a retired attorney, practiced public interest law in Miami and Washington. She now lives in Chevy Chase and does international volunteer work.