On a hill overlooking Kigali, there's a
modern, gleamingly white building that could easily be mistaken for the home of a
wealthy entrepreneur. It doesn't look like a genocide memorial, but that's what
it is. The building is a contradiction constructed of brick and mortar.
Its subject is tragedy, yet its design - sharp lines, thrusting gables -
suggests hope. That contradiction is, it seems, intentional, and perfectly
encapsulates today's Rwanda.Gerard J DeGroot is a professor in the
department of modern history at the University of St Andrews, Scotland. Among
his books are Dark Side of the Moon: The Magnificent Madness of the
American Lunar Quest
(New York University Press, 2006) and The Bomb: A Life (Harvard University Press, 2004).
His latest book is The Sixties Unplugged: A Kaleidoscopic History of a Disorderly
Decade (Harvard
University Press, 2008)
Also by Gerard de Groot in openDemocracy:
"US space policy: big universe,
small planet" (15 January 2007)
In front of the Kigali Genocide Memorial Centre lies an achingly beautiful garden where huge
plinths cover the mass graves of 237,000 victims. The humid equatorial air is thick with the
scent of mourners' flowers - the odour of grief. Those graves hold just one-sixth of the
number of Rwandans killed in the genocide that began on 7 April 1994.
Over the next one hundred days, at least
800,000 people - and perhaps well over one million - were killed. 85% of the
Tutsi population of Rwanda was eliminated in the Hutu version of the
"final solution". The survivors carry terrible scars - missing limbs, ravaged
faces, crutches everywhere. The mental scars are, one suspects, even more
profound. Thousands of women still cope with the trauma of rape. Many were intentionally infected with HIV,
itself a weapon of genocide.
To those unfamiliar with Rwanda, the country
remains synonymous with genocide. Though the killings
occurred fourteen years ago, ethnic slaughter still dominates many people's
impressions. That is a shame, since Rwanda - as I discovered in March 2008
during a visit to attend a conference in Kigali, the country's capital
- is a proud nation that seeks admiration, not pity. The people want to be seen
as an example of the resilience of the human spirit, not of the despair that so
often is allowed to define Africa to the world beyond the continent.
A new-old narrative
But how does a nation come to terms with
slaughter on such a scale? The answer
lies within that strange building in Kigali, a memorial that looks forward as much as it looks
back. The displays construct a narrative
of the genocide that facilitates reconciliation. The narrative goes like this:
there has only ever been one Rwandan people. They share a common
language and culture. Unlike so much of
the rest of Africa, people and nation are one.
The narrative continues: Hutu and Tutsi are
not ethnic divisions, but social classes - "Tutsi" once defined the number of
cows a family owned. Social mobility was accepted; Hutu could become
Tutsi. Intermarriage was common. During the colonial period, however, the Belgians turned those otherwise
fluid divisions into rigid ethnic identities as part of a strategy of divide
and rule. Hasty decolonisation then left the country prey to demagogues who manipulated the divisions further, eventually
resulting in the genocide of 1994.
One message figures prominently: blame the Belgians.Also in openDemocracy
on Rwanda and its neighbours:
Caspar Henderson, "Rwanda, Sudan and beyond:
lessons from Africa" (7 April 2004)
Alfredo Jaar, "The Rwanda project, 1994-2000" (3 April 2006)
Duncan Woodside, "Shooting Dogs: Rwanda's genocide through
European eyes" (7 April 2006)
Andrew Wallis, "Rwandan rifts in La Francafrique" (14 December 2006)
David Mugnier, ""North Kivu: how to end a war" (3 December 2007)
Rwanda's future is built on faith: the people
have convinced themselves that their country was once harmonious and can be so again. Those I met
were never reluctant to talk about the past, but the story they tell follows
closely the narrative conveyed at the genocide memorial.
That narrative evades some painful details, but what nation isn't guilty
of constructing a past to suit its present? What matters now is that Rwanda
believes itself to be a pioneer in Africa and a country that can lead by
example. Instead of despair, one encounters a people walking on the balls of
their feet.
The Rwandan people, one resident told me, are
lovers of revolution. Instead of inching forward, they prefer to leap
ahead. After the genocide, they equipped themselves with a brand new
apparatus of government capable of sustaining their hunger for revival. One prominent component of reform was the share of authority given to women -
by law 30% of all candidates in any election must be female. At present, women
constitute 47% of the legislature - the highest proportion of any country in
the world. When I asked an army colonel how he had adjusted to surrendering
such a large share of power to women, he replied: "What's the problem? Rwanda has always been a matriarchal society. We've just given legal
recognition to that fact."
A woman-centred
model
Rwanda wants to be a model for the rest of
Africa. It has already made huge strides toward that goal. Kigali,
for instance, is the safest capital city on the continent. The safety and
immense beauty of the country make it the perfect destination for tourists keen
to try Africa. The government also hopes that stability will attract foreign
investment.
The desire to be a model is not confined to
matters economic. One noble goal of the nation is to provide an example to the
rest of Africa in terms of the professionalism of its military. This is
particularly important in the peacekeeping context, since it is imperative that
peacekeeping forces sent to trouble-spots in Africa contain a high
percentage of African soldiers. In common with stable, peace-loving countries
like Norway, Sweden and Canada, Rwanda has recently decided that the primary
purpose of its military forces will henceforth be peacekeeping, and has
invested an immense amount of effort in training soldiers for that
responsibility. Rwandans recognise that the best way to ensure the stability of
their own country is to export professionalism and peace to their neighbours.
Toward this end, the Rwandan Defence Forces
have launched a programme of gender-training for soldiers, in cooperation with the regional office of the United Nations Development Fund for Women
(Unifem); it was these two bodies who organised the conference
on "gender issues in peacekeeping missions" on 28-29 March 2008 in which I
participated. The aim is not just to eradicate the scourge of gender-based
violence, but also to recognise the centrality of women to the peacekeeping
process.
What struck me at the conference in Kigali was
how receptive male officers in the Rwandan army were to the importance of gender issues. The army chief of the general staff, General
James Kabarebe, has publicly stated that violence
against women "is ... a security threat ... that ... breeds a severely negative impact
on socio-economic development in general, and human rights in particular." As
he recognises, this is not simply a matter of being nice to women. It is a matter of ensuring a more effective
peace.
Kigali's message
As I waited to board my plane at Kigali
airport, my friend the colonel told me: "When I was young I foolishly thought that the
world would never see genocide again. But then I had to experience genocide at
first hand. Now all I'm certain of is that Rwanda will never see it
again."
Africa is often depicted by and to outsiders
as a long-running tale of tragedy, to which new chapters periodically get
added. People living in the rich north are primed by media and aid agencies
alike to expect disaster, and to react by reaching for our credit-card details
(or by switching off). Rwanda, however, is a story of success that deserves
greater attention.
True, optimism can also be a trap. Africa is full of success-stories
gone sour. It would be amazing if no demons still lurked under Rwanda's
surface. At the same time, cynicism seems churlish in a country where dynamism
and pride inform a palpable sense of
hope. If there is a bright future for Africa, it lies in the direction Rwanda
points.
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