Population’s perspectives on healing through gacaca
Few Rwandans overall, and especially genocide survivors, openly discuss healing through gacaca, although the population still identifies healing as an objective of gacaca much more readily than the government.
The population's general hesitancy in discussing healing reflects many Rwandans' reluctance to discuss their trauma, especially with researchers and other outsiders whom they may not trust immediately. There is nonetheless substantial evidence from my interviews and observations of gacaca hearings that the population generally views healing as an important aim of gacaca. In cases where they explicitly discuss healing, survivors and suspects tend to interpret it in reference to their own need to deal with the past. In my interviews, only one individual, Thomas, a detainee in the ingando at Kigali Ville, expressed concern for the healing of others. It was necessary to confess to his crimes, Thomas argued, because ?when we [detainees] are open with our victims about our actions in the past then we can help the survivors recover.'11When survivors openly discuss healing through gacaca, they describe it primarily as healing as belonging. Many survivors argue that they have experienced, or expect to experience, healing through gacaca when the community acknowledges their suffering. They state that gacaca allows them to tell their stories in front of an empathetic audience and to hear similar stories from others. This storytelling contributes to their sense of reintegration into the community, overcoming their feelings of social dislocation since the genocide. Survivors, even when they live side by side with others who have suffered pain and loss, often feel a great sense of isolation and loneliness. Victims of mass conflict sometimes find it difficult to talk about their experiences, even if their listeners have endured similar tragedies.
They often feel immense guilt that they have survived conflict while so many around them have died.[595] Simon, a survivor in Nyamata, found his wife dead in their house when he returned after the genocide, but he never found the bodies of his two children who he presumed were also murdered. Simon said, ?I felt like I should have died too. It was only God who helped me keep my mind and heart intact.'[596] Traumatic experiences may also make it difficult for survivors to express their emotions for fear that prolonged discussion will trigger hurtful memories and thus increase trauma. This inability to discuss painful experiences exacerbates survivors' sense of isolation from those around them, creating a vicious cycle of silence and loneliness. Therefore, a key component of healing as belonging is the opening of empathetic dialogue to facilitate individuals' sense of reintegration into the wider community. In the post-genocide context, the concept of reintegration is most often associated with suspects who return to their home communities after years in jail. However, survivors also require reintegration into their communities in order to overcome the estrangement and anomie that result from violence-induced trauma.Once a sense of commonality has been achieved, many survivors involve themselves more readily in the life of the community, so that greater participation in communal affairs augments their renewed sense of belonging. Some survivors describe gacaca as a forum in which they can begin to re-engage in communal life and previously estranged members of the community ?may learn to live together again'.[597] They therefore link forms of public engagement with the objective of healing. In language reminiscent of the government's view, but with greater emphasis on the personal dimension, many survivors interpret healing as ?rehabilitation' in which they underline their ability to regain a degree of standing in society and to function more fully in the wider community.
As Paul, the survivor from Ruhengeri quoted in Chapter 7 whose father, two brothers and one sister were killed during the genocide, said, ?[At gacaca], [w]e realise that we are in the same situation, that we have all had family who were killed. We understand each other and we realise that we are not alone.'[598] According to this view, healing as belonging enables future activity and restores survivors to their previous status as vital, productive members of society. Thus, this form of healing has a strong communal element, displaying the expressed need of many survivors to function in society as they did before the genocide.Survivors also interpret healing in more internalised ways, focusing on their need to overcome personal emotional and psychological trauma, sometimes in isolation but often through engagement with others at gacaca. Survivors refer here to types of healing as liberation. During my interviews, survivors commonly describe the need to regain a sense of ?peace of mind' or to be freed from mental anguish. Jean-Baptiste, the survivor in Nyamata quoted in the last chapter, said after a gacaca hearing,
I have stood and spoken at gacaca two times now... This was very difficult for me because it brought back many bad memories. I didn't talk about [the murder of my entire family] for many years but talking to people now about what happened brings great peace to my mind.[599]
In 2003, a NURC survey of public opinion on gacaca recorded that 71 per cent of survivors identified regaining peace of mind as a key motivation for their participation during hearings.[600] One source of great pain and confusion for many survivors is uncertainty about what happened to their loved ones during the genocide. Survivors' desire to know the details of their loved ones' deaths - the identity of the killers, the methods and motives of the murderers, the location of victims' bodies - drives their participation in gacaca. While the knowledge of these facts may prove crucial for identifying and punishing those guilty of committing crimes, it is also vital for people's personal understanding of events and for their catharsis.
From survivors' descriptions, healing as belonging and healing as liberation often reinforce one another. Some state that they feel a greater sense of belonging to their community if they achieve a sufficient level of mental and emotional well-being that allows them to engage actively with others. In turn, a greater sense of reconnection with the community aids survivors' quest for peace of mind, or liberation from ignorance, as others provide the historical details that have painfully eluded them. Other members of the community may acknowledge survivors' suffering and in many cases share similar experiences. While healing as liberation and healing as belonging concern the well-being of individuals, these forms of healing at gacaca regularly involve the whole community.
A specific way in which gacaca helps facilitate survivors' healing as belonging is through providing a form of memorial for deceased loved ones. Remembering lost friends and relatives, typically through forms of communal mourning, often prove cathartic for the individuals involved and integrative for the parties who share in the remembrance. My observations of gacaca hearings suggest that many survivors view gacaca as a place where they collectively remember those who have died. In Nyarufonzo district of Kigali Ville province, several women brought to a gacaca hearing framed photographs of loved ones who died during the genocide. They clutched these photographs tightly throughout the hearing and pointed to them when they stood and gave evidence. When the women sat down again, many of them cried and hugged each other. Elderly women moved from the fringes of the gathering to comfort those in distress. The women holding the photographs appeared to gain solace and strength from those who showed them concern, sitting up more confidently and soon participating again in the deliberations. The solidarity displayed by those around them affirmed them as members of the community and acknowledged their traumatic experiences.
Bringing the photographs to gacaca also afforded a greater sense of humanity and dignity to the individuals whose deaths the general assembly was discussing. Though they were reluctant afterwards to discuss why they had brought the pictures, the women's aim seemed to be to give a face to the otherwise disembodied names that the judges recorded in their notebooks and to more meaningfully remember their deceased friends and family members. Thus, through their actions rather than their words, these women viewed gacaca as a memorial for their loved ones, a place where they could receive comfort from others in the community, and thus a possible source of healing as belonging.[601]Memorialisation is particularly important for survivors who lament that they have never been able to bury their loved ones who died during the genocide. The bodies of many genocide victims were dumped into mass graves and pit latrines or thrown into rivers, making it impossible for survivors to recover their remains. Many survivors therefore feel that they have never properly mourned the deaths of their loved ones. Patience, a fifty-two-year-old widow whose husband died in 2002 but whose three children were murdered during the genocide, two allegedly by the same man, said,
I never found my children’s bodies. I cry every day and want to know where their bodies are. I want to bury my children’s bones. Maybe at gacaca I will find where their bodies were thrown, and then I will stop crying... One day I might be able to forgive the man who did these things but first I want to bury my children.[602]
Survivors such as Patience view gacaca as a place where they can discover the location of their loved ones' remains, which will help them overcome feelings of uncertainty over the events of the genocide. More importantly, once the remains of genocide victims are recovered, survivors may bury them and feel that they have afforded the deceased a fitting memorial.
Liberation from uncertainty and forms of personal and public acknowledgement through burial and memorial are key processes of healing that some survivors connect closely with gacaca.Not all survivors, however, are convinced that gacaca will contribute to healing. The same NURC survey that shows that many survivors are motivated to participate in gacaca by a need for peace of mind also shows that 91 per cent of survivors (as opposed to 59 per cent of the general population) believe that gacaca will intensify levels of trauma.[603] Fifty-five per cent of survivors (as opposed to 39 per cent of the general population) claim that they have already suffered too much to want to participate in gacaca.[604] Many survivors doubt the healing capacity of gacaca and view it instead as a forum in which they are likely to experience further turmoil. For some survivors, discussing their experiences publicly will reawaken painful memories that will increase their sense of grief, particularly if the public reception during gacaca is not entirely favourable. Nathan, the Pentecostal pastor in Nyamata quoted earlier, said, ?There are no easy solutions for survivors. Gacaca is not designed for healing. Only God can heal our wounds... Gacaca will not bring back the dead.'[605] Survivors often believe that their wounds are too deep and that gacaca will either leave those wounds untouched or even deepen them through public exposure.[606] As discussed in previous chapters, gacaca's capacity to retraumatise the population by unearthing unsettling details of the past is a key reason that many people refuse to attend gacaca hearings.
Overall, genocide suspects discuss healing through gacaca much more extensively than survivors. In some cases, suspects believe that they themselves have experienced trauma and require healing through gacaca. Suspects' families also describe their trauma as a result of their loved ones being accused of genocide crimes and imprisoned for so many years. ?I am sick of answering my neighbours' questions about why my men are in jail', said Celeste, a forty-seven-year-old widow in Butare whose son, brother and two uncles were accused of genocide crimes. ?Life will only start for me again when my family returns home.'[607]
When discussing healing at gacaca, most genocide suspects describe types of healing as liberation and employ similar language to survivors when talking of their need for ?peace of mind'. This phrase means something very different depending on whether suspects believe they are guilty of committing genocide crimes. The discussion here focuses on those who have confessed to committing crimes because I conducted the majority of my interviews with genocide suspects in the ingando and in their home communities after they had been released from jail as a result of their confessions. For those who do not believe they are guilty and who are often still in jail - I also conducted interviews with many of these individuals - ?peace of mind' usually refers to their overcoming feelings of paranoia, anomie and oppression as a result of allegations against them. Many suspects who proclaim their innocence express a fear that their communities will refuse to accept them back because of these accusations. Daniel, a detainee in the ingando at Butare who claimed that he was innocent of the charges of murder levelled against him, said,
The community is informed about my situation and they know that I am innocent, so I will be exonerated at gacaca... Some people have told lies about me already and there may be more lies at gacaca. But I'm sure that eventually I will be exonerated and that will bring me great peace of mind.[608]
For some suspects, a sense of liberation may come at gacaca when they are able to refute the accusations made against them and, if their denials prove convincing, when they are released into their communities.
Stronger sentiments concerning ?liberation’ and ?release’ are expressed by suspects who have accepted their guilt and confessed to committing genocide crimes. As Justine, a detainee in the ingando at Gashora, said,
I didn’t kill anyone during the genocide but I was present when others killed. Why did I confess to being present when others committed crimes? When you confess, you unburden yourself of the past.[609]
Among suspects who have confessed, views regarding the potential for gacaca to bring healing are very different from those of suspects who plead their innocence. Those who have confessed often wish to experience the healing of their consciences and a release from guilt and shame. Many suspects claim that their religious faith persuaded them to confess, either through personal reflection upon their own beliefs and the gradual realisation that confession was necessary, or through the encouragement of clergy or confession teams who visited them in jail. ?It is not an easy thing to confess unless you are pushed by the Bible’, said Maurice, a detainee in the ingando at Kigali Ville. He explained that in 1998 several pastors from nearby churches visited him in prison. After conversations with them over a long period, Maurice converted to Christianity and later became part of a confession team, encouraging other detainees to confess to their crimes.
I was converted while I was in prison. Because I wanted to live in peace with myself, I decided to confess to being part of a group that killed a man during the genocide... Now I have nothing to fear at gacaca. Gacaca is only a threat to those who have not yet confessed.[610]
Jean d’Amour, a detainee in the ingando at Ruhengeri, claimed that he did not need clergy to convince him to confess to his crimes. ?It was easy to confess’, he said. ?No one else assisted me in confessing. It was only my own conscience. The word of God teaches that unless we confess we cannot have freedom within ourselves.’[611]
In keeping with these religious influences, when discussing healing at gacaca, suspects often employ highly metaphorical, theological language to describe the forms that they believe healing will take. Many suspects employ the metaphor of the body and express a desire for ?cleansing’ through confession. They often feel that their crimes have polluted their souls and that they therefore require some form of purification:
I was forced to kill during the genocide, against my will.. Before I confessed to what I did... I felt dirty and needed cleansing. Being a Christian, I knew that I needed to confess to feel clean again.[612]
I have confessed to assisting in the killing of a man. After the genocide, I fled to Congo but returned soon after. I was converted [to Christianity] in Congo. The conditions there were very bad but. God helped me find the courage to come back. Now I will tell the truth about my crimes at gacaca. Confessing is important for the truth, for my faith and for my own cleanness.[613]
These views invoke the Judaeo-Christian notion of washing away a person's sins after he or she has confessed: ?“Come now, and let us reason together,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are as scarlet, they will be as white as snow. Though they are red like crimson, they will be like wool.”'[614] Some detainees describe the act of confession as taking ?medicine', providing a cure for the emotional, psychological and spiritual malaise caused by their crimes. Celestin, the detainee in the ingando at Butare quoted earlier, said, ?Confession is like medicine. It doesn't taste good and it takes courage to swallow it. But if we tell the truth to the families of our victims, then we will be cured.'[615] Athanase, a provisionally released suspect in Bugesera district, said, ?Confession is the cure for the bad things we have done. When you confess to these things, you feel like a new person.'[616] The overall emphasis of these statements concerning personal freedom, cleansing and cure is on healing as liberation, expressed as a method of redemption and renewal, an opportunity for detainees to be made whole again. Wholeness may be interpreted as internal when it refers to detainees' desire to overcome their guilt (in essence, to regain the wholeness of the individual psyche) or external when it refers to their desire to regain a standing in the communities where they committed their crimes (to regain their place in the wholeness of the community, which in turn contributes to their sense of inner well-being).