July 11, 2009

July 11, 2009

Gacaca Day—

For those who do not know, Gacaca was originally a justice system to work out issues in cells and districts in Rwanda—issues that were not big enough to be tried in an actual court. You were tried by a group of your family, friends, and neighbours in front of a council, who would decide your fate. If unhappy with the result, you could appeal to the district level.

After the genocide, gacaca was reformed to try genocide perpetrators, because there were just too many to try in a big court. Traditionally, there are no lawyers, and each person must defend themselves and ask for forgiveness straight to those whom they wronged. While this sounds great in theory, not everyone is guilty, and if they have no lawyer, they have no way to win. I’ve heard from a few Rwandans that Gacaca is about 50% effective, but it is good, because otherwise no one would be found out at all.

--

We’ve been waiting here for a while. Gacaca was supposed to begin at nine, but now it’s ten and it has not yet begun. Nothing is on time in Rwanda.

We saw the prisoners arrive, and it was very difficult to watch. They walked freely, unaccompanied by guards, clad in clean, baggy, pink clothing. It was the look on their faces that really got to me, though. They were tense, angry faces—though I’d be angry, too, if I had to be in one of the Rwandan prisons; I hear they encompass terrible conditions.

Lynnette and I spoke to William’s brother, Baker, for a while. He was a gacaca elder for two years, from 2005-2007, though he was born in Uganda.

--

We just entered the trial room now at 10.30. It is a district level trial, which means it is for the more serious cases, and the room is clad in green, yellow, and blue, the national colours, with the usual photo of Mr. Paul Kagame looking down on us.

Basically, the trial was against one man whose name I don’t know. He wore glasses and spoke in a hoarse voice, denying any part in the killing. He was accused of killing two children with grenades, giving another boy to a man to kill, and teaching Interahamwe militia how to use weapons. He claimed that he was training Tutsis to defend themselves, but later said it was only two Tutsi, who were later killed anyway.

Next, he was accused of being at a roadblock, and stopping a car trying to escape Rwanda. Apparently, most in the car were killed, and then the Interahamwe stole the car. He was accused of looting houses. One person said, “Why would he have their things if he didn’t kill them?”

As part of the CDL, he held a meeting where only full Hutus were allowed. It is assumed that the meeting was about killing. One man said, “I didn’t see him kill anyone, but I saw him training people to use guns.” The man accused had already been tried at the Cell level, and was convicted for five years in prison (“What?!!” I said, “Only five years?!”)

So that’s the short of it—It was a very very long trial, and people kept basically convicting themselves, saying things like, “When we were at the roadblock…” and then the council members were like, “We?! Come up here!!” Thus, it was a very long process. We had to leave early, as it turned out, as I was going to spend the night in Kibuye, which is about a two and a half hour bus ride from Kigali.

However, all of the Rwandans I spoke to told me they believed him to be guilty—Fred, William, Kevin, and Rose all believed him to be guilty. If they were a jury of his peers, he most certainly would have been convicted. We never found out the outcome of the trial, but I will try to ask Jesse.

--

So Valerie, Sarah, Jesse, and I went to Kibuye, while the rest of the crew headed to Gisenyi for the weekend. I had only planned on staying for one night, because I had to work at RAPP early on Monday, but I ended up buying a bus ticket for early Monday morning and winging it.

The bus took quite a while, and I was in the front seat with the driver and another, older, smelly man who kept invading my space. Bleh! But after that ended, it was fine, and we met up with a big crew from RAPP—Laura and her boyfriend, Philippe, Matthew—as well as others—Melissa from the US embassy, Kristy from Operation Stop World Hunger or something, and a couple of others who they knew from elsewhere.

We were half starved from the bus ride, and it was extremely unfortunate that the food took 2 hours to arrive after ordering. We felt very badly for the one waiter and one chef who had to serve food to at least five groups of people. I didn’t end up taking a shower, because the showers were closed by 11.30, so Sarah and I just headed back to our 6,000/night room (that’s 3,000 each per night—six dollars!! Yes, I love places run by nice priests!)