Pish Posh- Posh Corps Peace Corps

Reconciliation

Rumor has it that Peace Corps Volunteers in other developing countries refer to Rwanda as Posh Corps. I see where the name stems from, yes I have electricity on a somewhat regular basis, I do not have to walk 10 k to get water, my house leaks but it is not made of mud, there are bugs, bats, and lizards, but nothing deadly. In spite of this, in my personal opinion, the emotional turmoil of Rwanda and the recent history is a completely different challenge than luxuries and comfort of a living situation. To try and understand the magnitude and fathom what happened here in recent years and what is currently happening in regard to reconciliation, this is not a tangible thought to me. To hear people’s personal stories, for them to share with me, I do not know how to respond, how to react, how to console, how they find the strength to proceed.
According to A Thousand Hills by Stephen Kinzer “99.9 percent of Rwandan children witnessed violence during the spring of 1994. Ninety percent believed they would die. Eight-seven percent saw dead bodies, 80 percent lost at least one relative, 58 percent saw people being hacked with pangas, and 31 percent witnessed rapes and other sexual assaults.”

I would like to share excerpts from A Thousand Hills in an attempt to convey the strength of the Rwandan people as they smile and look towards the future and put conflict behind them.

...Deeply rooted social conflicts like the one that devastated Rwanda in 1994 cannot be resolved through trial and punishment alone. A country torn so violently apart can stabilize only if former enemies reconcile. In Rwanda, this means that people must forgive those who slaughtered their families and even live beside them in newfound brotherhood. This is not a rational thing to do. Yet it is happening in Rwanda, on a grander scale than it ever has anywhere.

….Rosaria Bankuniye, lost her husband and four children in 1994, when she was twenty years old; the man who hacked them to death also attacked her and left her for dead, as the long scar across her face testifies. The killer, Xavier Nemeye, is free after serving nine years in prison. On the day I came to Mbyo [a village in southern Rwanda made up of about fifty concrete huts housing genocide survivors and released genocidaires], the neighborhood has assembles in shady grove to hear both of them testify. Most were women, brightly colorful in patterned batik dresses. All fell silent when Deo [a psychology professor and itinerant pastor who has assumed the mission of bringing Rwanda’s victims and killers together] rose to speak.

He [Deo] exhorted them to leave their rancor behind and devote all their energy to fighting Satan, whose name in Rwanda, he said, is poverty. When he invoked God’s presence, many people closed their eyes and turned skyward. Then he called on Rosaria and Xavier.

They [Rosaria and Xavier] came forward haltingly, as if in pain. Finally they settled onto a log, besides one another but not touching. Everyone before them knew their story. Many had similar ones.

Rosaria was small and frail, aged beyond her years and bent by toil. She wore a flowing yellow skirt and full blouse in a brown-and-yellow batik pattern. After taking a long moment to steel herself, she looked up and began describing how her family was murdered. She spoke softly but clearly. After a few minutes, when she reached the part about the maggots infesting her skull wound while she lay beneath a pile of corpses, she broke down.

All of Rosaria’s neighbors had wept many times, so this was nothing unusual. They waited quietly and even approvingly, some clutching each other’s hands, until she regained her composure and began again. She started by gesturing at the man sitting next to her, although she never looked at him.

“When he killed us, he also destroyed our home and took all out belongings,” she stammered, struggling to resist another breakdown. “I lived off the help form other people. But thanks to God, we had the blessing to reconcile with those who committed these acts. It is so hard to talk to talk to someone who killed your family. So I thank God that we have has the chance to live together and reconcile.”

These words puzzled me. They were undoubly sincere, but the emotion they conveyed- they willingness of this woman to forgive the person who has so grievously harmed her- was difficult to fathom. I grappled with it during the long silence that followed Rosaria’s testimony. Then Xavier began to speak. He looked sometimes at the congregation and sometimes at his feet, but never at Rosaria...”



Rosaria lost everything, he family, her children, she was once rich, with cows, goats, and money in the bank. She will never get that back. Yet she stated, “I don’t wish anything bad for that person. He will die the death God planned for him…”
The strength here to move ahead is a larger concept then I am personally prepared to comprehend. To understand the people, envision what they have been through, and learn from them, that is the challenge I face here everyday in Rwanda. Recently a family friends military base was referred to as Camp Cupcake because there was a Baskin Robbins and other American luxuries, I now realize that does not mean it is as simple as it sounds. Peace Corps doesn’t always feel so Posh Corps here in Rwanda.

President Paul Kagame was quoted saying:
“What is the future? We become prisoners of the past and live like that? It happened. We can’t undo it, unfortunately. If we could undo it, that would be ideal, but life isn’t like that. It’s a change you have to make. Otherwise you suffer twice. You suffer in the present and you continue to suffer forever.”