Venancia Nyiramana

"I hate a whistle because each time the Interahamwe militia wanted to start killing people; they blew a whistle at 05 am. So, when someone blows a whistle, I feel like my throat is coming up towards my mouth and I get an urge to pull it out, and that's when I start trembling in my stomach".

Sakindi Jean Baptist

"Whenever people discussed women, I vomited. When friends were enjoying talking about sex in a bar, I vomited. Some thought it was being drunk but no, it was trauma. I sometimes had hick ups each time I though about the rape".

Venancia and Jean Baptiste both lived through the Rwandan genocide. Venancia is one of only two survivors from a family of sixty. Jean Baptist Sakindi was drugged then raped by four women during the slaughter.

According to psychologists, both Venancia and Jean Baptiste may suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD, and also from chronic traumatic grief.

"Trauma takes place when a tragedy or something unusual has happened to some one at the time when his/ her mind and heart are not ready to receive it" explains Dr. Nason Munyandamutsa, a Psychiatrist Psychotherapist.

Experts say that during a trauma, survivors often become overwhelmed with fear. Soon after the traumatic experience, they may re-experience the original trauma, both mentally and physically. According to the American National Centre for PTSD, symptoms include fear, sleepless nights, nightmares, bed wetting, and sometimes the inability to speak. These symptoms seldom disappear completely. Trauma sufferers can learn how to cope more effectively, through expert help. "When a counselor spots someone with trauma symptoms, the first thing he/she does is to take that person to a quiet place. At that moment the person is in a different world because he/she is seeing things related to what she/he went through. The counselor gives them time to tell what they are seeing. The counselor helps the person to understand that the images are for the past and not happening now. You help them connect the past and the present. This gets rid of the fear and the noise they were making and they go back to the reality of the present", describes Jean Claude Nsanzabandi, a project manager in the association of Rwandan Trauma counselors, ARCT.

Dr. Nason Munyandamutsa says that trauma takes many forms and not all of them severe. "Trauma can be treated easily if the trauma victim is received and listened to by suitable people and at the required time. It's not necessary to see doctors. Specialists only deal with complicated cases", says Dr Nason. Recovery from trauma focuses on two complementary goals: The ability to manage trauma-related emotions rooted in the past, and the ability to develop greater self-confidence. Together, these help sufferers to cope with everyday life in the present. Jeanne Mukamusoni is the head of health and trauma counseling program in the association of genocide widows, Avega. She says trauma victims can recover and lead a normal life. "There are many people who were hurt beyond our imagination but now are much better and are living a normal life to the extent of helping others who have trauma problems", says Jeanne

With Gacaca - or traditional village trials - now underway, trauma related problems are expected to rise, as more genocide crimes are revealed and discussed in painful detail. The association of genocide survivors, IBUKA believes the gacaca is important but may have negative consequences for survivors.

"The Survivors of genocide live in environments that stir up trauma all the time. Gacaca itself is trauma; it traumatizes them because it tells them a lot", emphasizes Benoit Kaboyi the Executive Secretary of IBUKA.

But not everyone agrees with that perspective.

Yvon Kayiteshonga, director in charge of mental health says gacaca does not traumatize but instead could be the remedy. "Gacaca is one of the medicines of trauma because Gacaca will answer questions that have been lingering in people's minds. Gacaca does not cause trauma but what will be said there might trigger it and victims will be able to take a step forward, he adds.

With an estimated 10,000 Gacaca courts expected to sit nationwide over the next few years it seems fair to say that Rwanda will need many trauma counselors.

But where will they come from? The Rwandan Association of Trauma Counselors currently has 95 counselors around the country.

"The number of counselors that we have is not enough compared to the situation of trauma in the country, that's why we always need to increase the number by at least 40 more counselors this year". Jean Claude Nsanzabandi says.

Yvon Kayiteshonga says that the government of Rwanda believes more counselors will be available soon:"There is a program in place set up by the ministry of health to avail a good number of psychiatrists and psychiatric nurses. The program also concerns training some specialists abroad for example three doctors have left for training in this domain. Others needed and capable psychiatrists have graduated from the national university and there are more students in the faculty of medicine".

Avega, an association of genocide widows, has trained six hundred people to assist its own members who suffer from trauma.

"The people we receive here for counseling are mainly the women survivors of genocide because most of their family members were tortured and killed while they were watching. The women themselves were beaten, injured by the machetes; others were buried alive. A person could spend three days in a mass grave. Some were raped and infected with HIV and others gave birth because of rape. So most of our members have trauma related to the genocide", explains Jeanne Mukamusoni, Avega's head of health and trauma counseling program.

Early March 2005, The Rwandan Association of Trauma Counselors in conjunction with the national Gacaca office, trained over seven hundred judges in Kibungo and Kigali in trauma awareness, for three important reasons.

"The first reason why we trained the judges was to help them not to become the reason or source of trauma during the sessions. Secondary was to help prevent them from being traumatized by what they hear or see. Thirdly was to help them identify or support whoever that has the signs of trauma during the sessions. When this happens, the president of the court calls assistants to come and assist that person, points out Domitilla Mukantaganzwa, the Executive Secretary of Gacaca .

The participants say they found the training very useful. One of them is Venancia Nyiramana, a gacaca judge:"I thank God for this training because they taught us the importance of being close to someone and confide in him/her about what happened to us".

Sindayigaya Evariste is the coordinator of Gihira sector in Kamonyi district who also benefited from the training : "After this training, I think I will be able to cope with trauma that always gets me during the mourning season in April because of the training I have received".

As for Mukamugema Francoise also a gacaca judge, the trauma training will help her to help others: "When they selected me to come and attend the seminar on trauma, I was happy because many of my friends had the problem of trauma and no one knew ways in which to help them".

Venancia Nyiramana further drew important lessons from the workshop: "Again what I have learnt; they drew us a picture of a pot, full of contents and completely closed. They compared that pot to a person full of thoughts. So, when that person confides in some one and tells her/ him the whole story of what happened to him or her feels relieved. That is compared to that pot being emptied. The lesson helps me."

Experts say that people suffering from trauma often feel overwhelmed by the symptoms. Compassionate counseling helps them to re-focus on more positive aspects of their lives.

They also learn to access useful resources in order to improve their mental outlook and medical health. Such assistance has helped countless victims of trauma all over the world.

In Rwanda, while justice aims at national peace, counseling aims to bring personal peace.

Ideally, this will happen at the same time, throughout the Land of One Thousand Hills.

"I didn't intend to commit genocide. It is my children. I didn't plan to kill my children", Ancila says

Ancila Mukaminega a prisoner, was married to a Tutsi. She says she killed her five children with poison to spare them from a more terrible death at the hands of the Interahamwe, Rwanda's ruthless death squads in 1994.

Alphonsine Nyiramagambo, a mother of four, worked at Bank of Kigali. She is charged with masterminding massacres in Gikondo, but she pleads not guilty. She is detained at Kigali Central prison.

"Before I came to prison I did not know that there were women who participated in the killings during the genocide. I thought they had committed minor crimes like looting but not killing", Alphonsine said.

Mugirase Sezariya, a mother of six is in prison, charged with the murder of her neighbour Octave Kayihura.

Sezariya used to live in the area of Nyamirambo, near Kigali city centre. She denies the charge adding that she did not see any women commit genocide. That's not to say women were not involved.

"I didn't see any woman killing but we used to hear about women who strongly supported the killings like Bemeriki Valerie who was a journalist at RTLM. Women rather played a big role in identifying and listing those to be killed", Sezariya indicated.

These are the voices of some of some of the five hundred women charged with genocide related crimes, and now detained at Kigali Central Prison.

Women are often seen as victims of conflict but less-often as perpetrators.

In 1994, it seems some women as well as men, may have participated with enthusiasm in the massacres.

One of the people who say he suffered at the hands of women during the genocide is Jean Baptiste Sakindi.

He was twenty-five, when four women armed with grenades, guns and other weapons crashed into the small house where he had been hiding for days with his cousin Kayiranga who was ill.

Jean Baptiste says the women drugged and raped him continuously for three days.

"One of them climbed on top of me and the other went under me. I don't know how to explain this, it is very difficult to put in words, and it was like pornography. It was pornography" Jean Baptiste says.

According to Jean Baptiste, this ordeal lasted three days. He says the women also took drugs to energise them and took turns on him, even until he was bleeding and in great pain. He says the drugs ensured that they could rape him whenever they wanted. After they finally left him alone, he says he was unconscious for two days. So how does he regard women now?

"Women, when I think about women, I think of them as compassionate people. On the hand I also think of them as the most hateful and evil minded people. However I like to think of the women who raped me as Interahamwe not just as women and this helps me not to generalise", Jean Baptiste argues.

Console Mukanyirigira of the survivors association AVEGA agrees.

"Sentimentalism aside, it is known that women are very compassionate people and that is why we think that if the genocide had not been planned and women not prepared for their role in slaughter, the compassion in women would have triumphed over evil", she remarks.

She says women could have prevented the murders if they had tried.

"Women watched as their husbands and sons went off to kill and did not stop them. If women had been more heroic and sadly the courageous ones were very few, perhaps the killings would not have been of the same magnitude" Console added.

But what do the women who are charged with genocide have to say?

Mwamini Nyirantegeye is currently detained at Kigali central prison. She was a resident of Kivugiza sector in Nyamirambo district and was a member of MRND, the ruling party at the time. Before that, she worked for Rwanda Air and was married to a Tutsi man. They had three children.

When the killings began her husband Jean Bosco Kabagambe took the three children to Butare where he was working. His wife stayed in Kigali.

Mwamini is charged with five counts of genocide, including wearing military fatigues as a civilian, planning and implementing the genocide, leading gangs of killers looting and failure to help those in need.

She pleads guilty to wearing military fatigue, and of circulating with Interahmwe and soldiers. But she but adds that it was the prevailing circumstances at the time which made her behave that way. She denies killing anyone.

Mwamini claims that she was standing in front of her Kivugiza home with one of her Tutsi neighbours called Alex, when they saw a group of killers coming towards them. When they saw the killers Mwamini says that Alex ran for his life.

When the killers reached where she was, they demanded to know where Alex was she says that she lied by saying she did not know. She claims she tried to mislead them.

During the search for Alex, she says three other men were found and killed.

"I felt so troubled because as I tried to save one person, I led to the death of four people. I was overwhelmed. That is one case I regret very much because as you can see, I was the one who led the killers to all these people although I did not intend to do so", says Mwamini

Cecil Nimubona lives in Kivugiza from where she witnessed the genocide. She disagrees with Mwamini's story and blames her for her husband's death.

"When Mwamini came to our home, my husband and I were near the entrance. We looked up we saw a group of people coming towards us. I was standing but my husband was seated on a small kitchen stool and Mwamini called out to me asking, "Cecil where is Rugambwa". But I kept silent. She repeated the same question and finally my husband responded saying, "here I am", remembers.

Cecil says that when Mwamini saw her husband, she asked him where Alex was and when he failed to show them, the gang took him away. Later she got news of her husband's death.

"At about 3 pm the same day a child who was coming to inform me about her father's death met Mwamini on her to my place and Mwamini sent that child to tell me that my husband had been killed", she added.

On the issue of wearing military uniform as a civilian, Mwamini says that she did so in order to save her niece, who had been attacked and dumped in a pit.

"I went to a road block which had been setup in our neighbourhood. I had some money on me so I bought beer for them and continued talking to them until I identified one of them who appeared sensible and asked him to help me", she says.

According to Mwamini's version of events, that Interahamwe member told her to find a car and military clothes, so she could pass through roadblocks. She says together they rescued her injured niece from the pit and took her to safety.

"Those who were hiding and saw me thought I was the same as the interahamwe because I was dressed like them and although they have no idea what exactly I was going through they saw me as a killer who was working together with the interahamwe to hunt down and kill people. This is also a charge I plead guilty to and regret but I also I explain the circumstances that dictated my behaviour back then", Mwamini explains.

Cecil disagrees with that too. She claims Mwamini had the power to save lives, but did not.

"What really hurts me is the fact that not one soul, not a single person survived because of her. That really hurts me. Although I lost my husband, there are several other people who would have survived had she helped them", Cecil argues.

Mwamini's husband, Jean Bosco Kabagambe and their three children survived the genocide after fleeing to Butare. Today he works as a private consultant for rural co-operatives. He says Mwamini is a very sociable person.

"As far as I know Mwamini, she is not capable of killing anyone. Her real problem was her lack of a personality. She was always moving with the crowd. It is because of this that she even joined MRND because she had seen people who hailed from Gisenyi and Ruhengeri joining the party", Jean Bosco says.

Jean Bosco adds that although he was not with his wife during the genocide there is no evidence to prove she killed anyone.

But Immacule from Kivugiza says residents of that area have bad memories of Mwamini.

"People around here say is that they saw her on many occasions moving with killers gangs', she was seen on several times in the company of soldiers and the Interahamwe", Immacule indicates.

After more than ten years apart from Mwamini, Jean Bosco eventually remarried and lives with his three children. Together, they continue to visit Mwamini in prison.

"To us as a family Mwamini is a mother and a friend. She is someone we have known for a long time. We can't reward her by deserting her now no matter how evil she may be. If it is true she committed genocide that is her case to deal with as an individual. We will continue to support her materially, emotionally and help her to bear with what she is going through, building her hope that one day she will be released and I am optimistic that she will one day be free", Jean Bosco says

There are 2729 women in Rwanda's prisons. Of these, 1949 are charged with genocide related crimes.

Therese Mukarwego is a friendly, jolly woman who enjoys a good laugh. But life hasn't been kind. Her husband and three children were killed during the genocide. Therese' neighbour Andrea Uwimana lives a few metres away. He killed one of her children.

But Therese has learnt to overcome her bitterness about it and more than that, she has also chosen to become his best friend.

"What makes me so happy is that, although often I don't have any water, I need not go elsewhere. Even small things in the house, if I don't have them I can just walk here and get them. In short, I lack for nothing. Before, I would never have dared to come to his house; I didn't even want to see his children. But now I wish them peace," Therese says.

Andrea agrees that their friendship is working. "We live like family now, if she needs something and if I can help, then I pitch in", he says.

Some of their family, friends and neighbours find this situation hard to believe. When the killing began, Therese's husband was working in their farm. She ran to alert him. But by the time they got back, their home was surrounded by militia. Andrea was watching, from his own house nearby.

"Therese had children; they fled together with her husband", he recalls.

Therese' husband and his brothers were killed in Gatare, a nearby town. Therese at first found refuge with her relatives, but fearing repercussions, they soon chased her away. With no other option, she hid her three children in a coffee plantation near her home, then found a hiding place for herself, farther away.

Like many other villagers, Therese' neighbour Andrea joined in the looting which followed. It was while doing this that he and other neighbours stumbled upon Therese' hidden children. The youngsters fled but the militia saw them and caught them. They immediately suspected Andrea of having tried to protect them. When the militia threatened him, Andrea returned to his own house.

"I could hear the children screaming as they were killed. Afterwards, I saw the attackers leave," Andrea narrates.

Therese survived the genocide by moving from place to place fleeing the militia who would have killed her. After the militia left Therese's house, Andrea and his neighbours went to see what had happened.

"We found two children dead in the house. The third was not yet dead, he touched my leg, and I could see he was still alive. I picked him up. I asked my colleagues "What should we do?" They asked me what I intended. I replied: "I want to take him home". They said: "If you do that, the attackers will kill you and your children," he says.

Andrea will never forget what he did next. "Well! When I realized heard things were beyond my control, I smashed the child on the ground. I thought the child was dead. There was a pit latrine at that house, so I threw the child in there and I left," he recalls.

As it turned out, the child was not yet dead. Therese learned this from neighbours after the genocide. They also told her that Andrea had dumped the bodies of her other children in the latrine.

"When I came back, a neighbour told me that Andrea had put the child alive into the pit and that perhaps the others too were not quite dead at the time," says Therese.

"I was told the child lived for two weeks and could be heard crying. My neighbour had tried to rescue the child but it had fallen deeper into the pit. He was afraid to try again in case the militia found him and threw him in too. After two weeks they couldn't hear the cries any more, and then they also had to flee," she adds.

When Therese finally returned home, Andrea was still in a refugee camp in Burundi She says when he came back, she was afraid.

"I used to wonder how I would farm my land; surely he would find me there and kill me? But because everyone knew what he had done, they called the Councillor and he was arrested and imprisoned. When they came to arrest him he asked me: "You used to be so pious, have you completely refused to forgive me?" I told him: "Let them arrest you, when the time comes I will forgive you," Therese says.

Andrea too remembers that day. "I didn't even spend one night at home. They arrested me the day I arrived back. They took me to Rilima prison where they started telling us to plead guilty. I rejected that idea. I figured my fate was already sealed. Confessing required telling the whole truth and also pointing out collaborators. I figured that they were going to kill us anyway so why put my colleagues in trouble? So I said, let me die alone. I rejected confession", Andrea explains.

Therese says that despite her original promise to forgive Andrea, she had absolutely no intention of doing so. "I was very unhappy, I kept feeling that they should all die, they had no right to live, each person I saw I just kept thinking: "That one is a murderer". I was very disturbed," she recalls.

Therese began spending more and more time at a local Catholic Church. Gradually, through the intervention of the Justice and Peace Commission she realised that forgiving Andrea might also bring her peace of mind. But it was a struggle to forgive looters, never mind the man who killed her child.

"I told friends about it but they started asking, "How you will manage? If your fellow survivors hear about it they will not understand, they will surely kill you?" I said "That's their problem" she concluded.

Therese says that once she decided to forgive Andrea her attitude changed. She began to visit him in prison, where they began to talk. She kept visiting and her persistence eventually convinced Andrea to confess.

'We both asked each other for forgiveness, he told me: "Yes. I did those things. But later I wondered why I killed that child and put him in the pit latrine. Forgive me!" I told him: "Forgive me too, because you have suffered. Plus, if you had died in prison I would have felt bad". He said: "It's OK. All the beatings and suffering cannot be equal to the crime I committed," she says.

Andrea was released, provisionally at the beginning of 2003. Therese says this had an unexpected effect on her. "When he came I was very happy, I felt all my bitterness was over," she recalls.

Andrea doesn't take Therese's forgiveness lightly. "It was not easy for her. We've talked about it, but I know it was not easy for her," he acknowledges.

But here in Rwanda, it is not just survivors like Therese who have made the first effort in repairing the trust shattered by genocide.

Thacien Kalinda was 17 years old when the genocide began. He lived very close to Severin Nyiragira, whose husband was murdered in the days that followed. Severin's three boys were taken from her by local attackers.

"They said that the order was that all Tutsi men and boys must die. They must not survive. After they killed them, others came and joined in the killings. Within three days there were no men or boys in the hills. Then they started on the women, girls and children," she remembers.

Kalinda recalls no bad relations between his and Severin's family, prior to the genocide. He says militia attacked the house where Severin was hiding and took away her three boys. Then they ordered him and five other young men to come to a ruined house, to finish the job.

"When we arrived, the adults were shirking from the act of killing. They said: "Let these young men take care of this. None of us can handle it; let the young ones kill them". We were six young people about my age, and we started killing them...," he remembers.

Kalinda says the death of the child he killed, stayed on his conscience. "After killing them I felt I had just lost my peace, I felt so bad. I was sick to the bone....I felt so sick, I came and slept on the bed, but I just kept seeing blood everywhere, I felt everything was accusing me," he says.

Meanwhile, Severin spent the rest of the genocide fleeing from slaughter. She says even those who offered protection eventually turned against her. When she came home after the genocide, there was little information about what had happened to her children.

Kalinda had told no one what he had done, and Severin did not learn about his involvement until much later.

"What made it especially difficult to live with the past was that they buried my children in one shallow grave. Their bodies had been eaten by dogs. I could not find peace, knowing that," she remembers painfully.

When Severin heard that genocide suspects would be arrested, she felt vindicated.

"I was among the first people to speak out; it was like an answer to a prayer. I kept thinking: "Should I kill those who did this?" I had never had conflict with them, I never did anything wrong to them, we used to live happily together visiting each other. I would ask 'What are you doing God, why don't you let them die, avenge the things they did to me?" she asked.

Severin wanted revenge and pointed out those she suspected of being killers. She made sure they were arrested and made life difficult for their relatives. She went to the home of anyone she suspected of having looted her property or livestock and demanded compensation. Sometimes, she used force. Then, something changed.

"I think God helped me to understand, in time. I began to see faults in my vengefulness. I was becoming sick. From the moment I returned home I was constantly quarrelling and fighting with neighbours who had not been arrested. If I found them talking I would stop them and tell them: "Shut up, you murderers." I gave them no peace. I was like a mad woman," she recalls.

When Severin saw she had made more enemies than friends, she became afraid. "I had no peace. I kept feeling they would come back and kill me, because it was not just those in prison," she says. One day she even walked to nearby Lake Muhazi and tried to drown herself.

Severin still didn't know that her neighbour Thacien Kalinda had killed her child. Meantime, Kalinda had been arrested for a different murder, which he had not committed. He was tried, acquitted and released in 1999. But still, he was not at peace.

"I was like a sick person, everything I tried to do I would see the murder scene. I would wake up in the morning and just feel like dying. When I tried to eat, the scene would replay in my head. When I tried to sleep, the same thing. Anything I tried to do, the scene would replay in my mind," Kalinda remembers.

Kalinda realised he needed to get the matter off his chest. Severin too was in a dilemma. By 1998 her bitterness had become too much to bear.

"That is when I understood my own shortcomings and began my journey towards forgiveness. I started talking to those I'd sent to prison, and to those from whom I had demanded compensation. I would visit them, talk to them, share with them. I began forgiving them for what they had done and returning to them whatever property I had taken by force," Severin says.

Severin told the legal authorities that she was willing to forgive those who had committed crimes against her. Thacien Kalinda, alone, decided to seek her pardon. Even though he had been born a Muslim, he turned to Christianity for comfort.

"The church taught me how bad my crime was and to accept responsibility and ask forgiveness. I went and looked for her; I don't know how I did that, it was like a miracle," he says. "I kept feeling as if it wasn't me but I said to myself "I will go, if she kills me she kills me, it's her right. But I have to say it, so I can have peace of heart". I talked with her and asked her for forgiveness. She forgave me.'

Severin agrees. "He came to ask for forgiveness, I forgave him. I was beginning to feel bad because I had forgiven people who hadn't bothered to say 'Sorry'. But at least he had made the effort and asked for my forgiveness. I told him "You've come to ask for this face-to-face? I have already forgiven those who haven't". Since then, three or four have asked for forgiveness and I have granted it.

Monsignor Nicodemus Nayigeziki is one of those priests who have been helping survivors and perpetrators to live together. Her works with the Justice and Peace Commission in the Catholic Church.

He knows Severin and Thacien personally, since he is their local priest. "He was not a Christian or Catholic, he was a Muslim. He asked for forgiveness after he had already been acquitted. Amazingly he still went and told her: "I was one of those who killed your child". Yet she didn't know! She didn't even suspect him," Monsignor Nayigeziki points out.

By confessing to a new crime, Kalinda was risking more time back in jail. Monsignor Nayigeziki contrasts this with many prisoners whom - he believes - only ask for forgiveness because they hope it will mean less time in jail.

"What amazes me about Kalinda is that he says clearly: "I am ready to face the full consequences of what I did". Someone recently asked him: "What if they send you back to prison, what will you do?' He replied: "Honestly, I would just go back. But I feel now that my heart is at rest"

So what made Kalinda risk a return to prison?

"I said to myself: If they put me back I don't care, as long as I get this crime off my heart and in the open. I said that even if they killed me, even if they sentenced me to death, I would accept it, because I did do this thing," he asserts.

"You know, rather than be free but a prisoner inside your heart, it is better to be in that brick prison, and free in your heart," he reckons.

It's now just over eleven years since the genocide. Severin's home has been rebuilt and she farms a small piece of land nearby to provide for four children, three of whom she adopted. Severin says she too feels free now, but senses some people might never understand.

"Most of the survivors were not happy, what I was doing confused them. I was being good to people who had hurt them so much. They even said that I was bewitched by the Interahamwe and that's why I forgave people. They even said I had gone mad. No, not everyone accepted it, some thought it was a good thing, some felt I had lost it completely, that I had become a stupid old woman," she explains.

Monsignor Nayigeziki says true forgiveness is never easy.

"Someone who just pretends to forgive cannot live with the consequences Severin has gone through. They gossip about her, they say "Oh maybe it's because the priests gave her money?" They mock her and say "She visits the priests too often", and many other nasty things. She just bears with it. I don't think someone who was not genuine would put up with it," he argues.

And it's bearing fruit. "Some people are starting to come round to it. Some even tell me: "We used to think you were mad, but now we see you are setting a good example," says Severin.

Therese says that this is also the case with her.

"Some are happy; it makes them happy especially when they see how secure I feel. But of course, not everyone sees things the same way. But I think everyone wishes me well," Therese reckons.

Andrea - who murdered Therese' child - says he greatly values their difficult experience. His surname Uwimana means 'man of God' and he says true repentance and true forgiveness may be the only way to find spiritual peace.

"I think the forgiveness that comes from the victim, overrides everything else. After someone like her has forgiven me, the State can go ahead and do whatever it wants with me. That is its prerogative. I must ask her for forgiveness, as well as the forgiveness of all Rwandans and neighbours. She comes first, the State comes second," Andrea asserts.

But how many other people could do the same thing? Therese thinks it's hard, since survivors face immense challenges, every day.

"When you have a lot of things you need to do, and they are beyond your means, you start to resent other people with families or spouses to help them, while you are all alone with no end of challenges. That's what makes bitterness and loneliness grow, reactions are based on the different challenges each individual must face," Therese explains.

Monsignor Nayigeziki says if one person can find a way, others can surely follow he notes that it is possible because those like Thacien Kalinda and Severin Nyirangira have already done it.

Like many survivors of genocide all over Rwanda Therese and Severin find themselves living next door to people who caused them much pain. In the same way, like many perpetrators of the Rwandan genocide, Kalinda and Andrea now find themselves face-to-face with the tragic day-to-day consequences of the harm they caused.

But instead of anger, bitterness and hopelessness, these four Rwandans have chosen a path of dignity, honesty and forgiveness. It is hoped that one day others will have the courage to do the same.

On 10th March, 2005, Rwanda's traditional village courts, known as Gacaca started judging genocide cases, in many parts of the country.

One hundred and fifty cases were heard on the first day. From these, thirty four sentences were handed down, the highest being 30 years in jail. That's the maximum sentence Gacaca can impose on people it convicts. Some of it may be served outside prison, in community service.

The lowest sentence was one year in jail, which was handed down in Byumba province, northern Rwanda.

Minister of Justice Edda Mukabagwiza attended the first Gacaca trial at Busanza sector, in Kigali. "This being the first case, it has been evident that the judges are committed. They have studied well the case they dealt with today as required", she says.

Similar appraisals were also shared by the Executive Secretary of the Gacaca courts Mukantaganzwa Domitilla. "We have reports that the local judges conducted the cases very well in accordance with the law and in respect of the rights of the suspects and of the people who participated in the sessions," said the Gacaca official.

In 2001, the Rwandan government authorized Gacaca courts to do this work, to help speed up justice, peace and reconciliation. Some estimated that ordinary courts would take 100 years to try all those suspected of involvement in genocide. Gacaca seemed an ideal, swifter solution.

Local 'people of integrity' were trained and appointed as Gacaca officials, and as judges. Umuziga Agnes, Chairperson of Busanza Gacaca court is one of them.

"This is the first case our court has judged in this sector" she comments "but we have an impression that we are going to manage our assignment," she concludes.

The Busanza Gacaca court handled a case of someone who confessed to his crimes. Confessions make the work much easier and faster. But not everyone is willing to get involved.

Some people have fled their home villages, rather than participate in Gacaca. Will this undermine the legal process?

"There is not a big number of people that is escaping from Gacaca. We do not yet have the exact number but it is not in any way upsetting the functioning of the Gacaca courts," says Edda Mukabagwiza, Minister of Justice.

Gacaca courts have the legal power to summon any Rwandan to answer questions. This law covers all citizens, even senior government leaders.

Prime Minister, Bernard Makuza appeared before a local Gacaca court in the Nyakabanda area of Kigali to testify about the genocide. He said he wanted to contribute to the legal process.

From 1990 until the end of genocide, Bernard Makuza lived in this village with his family. He was working with the National Transport Company, known as ONATRACOM.

Shortly before the genocide, Makuza changed his job to work as a Legal Advisor to the then-Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana.

Giving testimony at Gacaca, Mr. Makuza said his life was in danger during the genocide because the killers kept coming to his house to look for him. He was hiding in the ceiling board of his house

According to Mr. Makuza, at some point, the infamous Radio Milles Collines announced that some people were hiding above ceiling boards. Fearing discovery, he came out of hiding but was soon seized by militia, who took him away for execution. He survived.

"That time they never killed me. I came back" he narrates, "Then, the neighbors told me that it was dangerous for me to stay in the house. They advised me to stay with them where they were gathered in the neighborhood."

Prime Minister Makuza is expected to conclude his testimony in the next few months.

The participation of senior politicians in the Gacaca process is intended to send a clear message to all citizens: 'Gacaca needs you'.

But will their example encourage those who fear Gacaca? Will it persuade people not to run away?

Gacaca officials say it is important that people understand and embrace the real purpose of the courts, rather than simply turning up because they feel coerced by law to participate.

"Gacaca comes as a solution so that we are able to confess what we did to express to the victims that we are sorry for we did and to ask for forgiveness", explains Domitilla Mukantaganzwa Executive Secretary of the Gacaca Courts. "We appeal to all Rwandans to understand it that way; no one should run away from the Gacaca because it poses no threat to the people. We have already committed what we ought to have been afraid of," she concludes.

Some Gacaca courts started their trials several months earlier than others, and are now at the stage where they can judge suspects and announce sentences. The rest of the Gacaca courts in Rwanda are still gathering information about what happened during the genocide. Their judgments will come in time.

Genocide suspects are divided into categories. Gacaca courts deal with suspects in Category two and Category three, that is those alleged to have killed or looted property during the genocide.

Others, alleged to have organized genocide, or played a prominent role in killing or sexual crimes, are classified as 'Category one', and may be tried in the Rwanda's national courts or at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, in Arusha, Tanzania.

Usually, people come to Huye regional stadium in Butare province in the South of Rwanda to watch football matches between teams.

Today it's different. People are coming to attend a Gacaca court session where the Minister of Defense, General Marcel Gatsinzi will testify in what is called an 'information gathering' session.

It's the biggest in Butare province since the process started in mid-January 2005.

General Gatsinzi is one of the army officers from the former government of Rwanda, who now serves in the new government. Before the genocide, he was the commander of a military school for non-commissioned officers, known as ESO, short for Ecole des Sous Officiers. He also became the Army Chief of Staff for a short period during the genocide.

According to Gacaca protocol, any witness at an information-gathering session is required to begin their testimony with memories of relevant events since 1990.

General Gatsinzi says he was among those hunted in 1990 because some high ranking army officials allegedly called him an accomplice to the rebels. He says after the RPF invaded the north of the country, led by Rwanda's current president Paul Kagame, he was sent there to lead the defense against them.

Gatsinzi told the court that he escaped many attacks on his life. The first was at Rwamagana camp.

"A grenade exploded under the chair on which I had been sitting. Some of the soldiers I was with were injured", explains the General. "I informed the headquarters that a sergeant from the military police Muhima unit had attacked us and that soldiers had shot him down in self defense. I asked them what was going on but they only laughed at me and kept quiet".

Later, Gatsinzi was ordered to return from northern Rwanda to the ESO military school.

Shortly before the genocide, General Gatsinzi was made Army Chief of Staff in Rwanda. He replaced Deogratias Nsabimana, who had been killed with President Juvenal Habyarimana, when the small airplane they were travelling in was shot down by persons unknown, as it approached Kigali.

When the genocide started, General Gatsinzi says he used his powers the best way he could to stop it by issuing orders to the army to stop massacres and to maintain control. He claims his orders were defied by some subordinates, but not by all.

"I had good working relations with people from Butare particularly soldiers and gendarmes. So they respected the orders. I remind you that I spent one week on that post, from 7th to 15th when they removed me. Tell me if anyone died here during that period," asks Gatsinzi.

But some of the people who lived in Butare before and during the genocide think General Gatsinzi has a lot to answer for, particularly his alleged influence over military students at the ESO, who allegedly participated in the torture and massacre of Tutsis in Butare.

"Most of the students were from Ruhengeri and Gisenyi in the North of Rwanda. They were youngsters", says Gatera one of the Butare residents gathered at the stadium "Tutsis lived in the same neighborhoods with Hutus. They did not have their separate village. How did those students know where the Tutsi homes were?" he asks.

"I want to ask the General, this question: he says some soldiers disobeyed his orders. What punishments did they get for their disobedience?" asks Nzarubara another resident.

To these and any other questions about his responsibilities as a senior military commander, Gatsinzi replies by proclaiming his innocence.

"I never gave orders to arrest and to torture Tutsis", he says. "There are many former soldiers in prison who were there. If any of them says I gave the orders, let him also say when and from where I gave the orders".

At the end of his testimony, General Gatsinzi promised to appear at future Gacaca sessions, as required. He also promised to tell the truth and emphasized that he helped people during the genocide.

"Whenever I arrived in Butare, people always said that when I was present they would have peace for a while. If they really say the truth, they remember that," says Gatsinzi.

This particular Gacaca court is still at the 'information gathering' phase.

But more people want to put their own questions to General Marcel Gatsinzi questions, a sure sign that the Minister may indeed be back on the witness stand, when the trials start.

Mfashijwenimana is a child born of rape. But he doesn't know. His mother, Bertherltide has not had the courage to tell him. He was born out of the multiple rapes she suffered during the 1994 genocide. She named him Mfashijwenimana which means 'God helps me'. She says she needs all the help she can get, to live with what he represents.

"Recently he asked me some hard questions.'Why don't you show me my father? Who will pay for my tuition when I pass my primary level exams?' I told him 'work hard, you will not lack someone to pay your fees, your grandmother is here and am here.' He asked me if we could raise the amount needed. I told him, 'no problem you just work hard,' Bertherltide says.

Mfashijwenimana is in his third year of school. His mother says he is a good student. When he grows up, the young boy wants to be a teacher. But the older he grows, the more questions he asks, and the more his mother worries.

"It's too much," she laments. What can I say? When I think of these things, I get palpitations, if he is asking me such questions young, what of when he is older? What will happen? Sometimes I can't help wishing he would find out about his father on his own," she adds.

According to Survivor's Fund, a global organization working with women like Bertherltide, about 11% of all women living in Rwanda in 1994, particularly Tutsis, were raped. Some were raped several times. The Fund estimates that four women were raped every minute of every day for the 100 consecutive days of the genocide. Bertherltide is one of the approximately 535,000 women that Survivor's fund says experienced this atrocity and one in ten got pregnant. Some rape victims aborted their pregnancies. Exact figures are hard to find, but the National Population Office estimates there are currently between two and five thousand children born of rape and living in Rwanda.

Few women are willing to admit what happened. Some, Bertheltide admits have considered abandoning their children. "Truly, at some point, I wanted to throw him away but then I thought, why should I throw him away? I gave birth to him. I will look after him. He is my souvenir from the war," she argues.

Bertherltide tries to be philosophical, but she has more her son to worry about. She is poor and also HIV positive, like 67% of women raped during the genocide, according to Survivor's fund. Her health is failing. She says she learned of her medical status thanks to the intervention of a social worker, Gaudelive Mukasavasi,

"She is the one who advised me to go for testing, find out my status after all that had happened," Bertherltide explains. "I was a healthy person but as time went by, I felt increasingly weak. I was already wondering what was happening. I went for testing and they told me. They also told me to try and live with it. But I have never gained the courage to tell my relatives," she explains.

It is the emotional trauma, shame and fear of rejection, particularly among those with children born of rape that makes it hard for such women to tell even those who are closest to them. As Bertherltide herself attests "I used to live with my elderly mother. I feel so bad that I never sat down and told her what happened and how I came to contract the infection, but she sees it. She notices that I am not as strong as I used to be, I am finished," she says.

Raising a child born of rape is a difficult task. "Sometimes I feel dead inside, full of despair. Sometimes on radio they discuss these topics and I get shivers. When he does something small to displease me, I beat him up and then I regret it afterwards. I know I am not beating him because of what he has done; it's because of where he came from," Bertherltide says as tears fall down her cheeks.

Because she has not told her son or her family the truth and fears being found out, Bertherltide she is not been able to take Mfashijwenimana for HIV testing. Lately, he has been getting sick.

"I went to the doctor, they took some blood and found I had malaria, and they gave me tablets, but the disease came back, I returned and they gave me more tablets, I felt better and I was able to return to school," he says innocently.

Bertherltide knows it might be more than recurrent malaria. She should take him for testing, but she is afraid. She is also taking care of other children. One more of her own and two others belonging to her sister, a fellow genocide widow. The little support they get from survivor associations provides enough money for school fees. They have a few goats and a cow, but such animals are traditionally kept for milk, or to sell to cover emergency expenses. Apart from that, they have very little to live on.

Gaudelive is hoping to source anti-retroviral medication for Bertherltide.

"It would help," Bertheltide reckons. "But there is a problem of nutrition. I think you saw for yourself how am living. Sometimes I feel I should just stop taking medicine. I don't eat very well, the drugs make me weak, but the social worker said there is no problem, she told me to persist and take the drugs even if I feel weak," she explains.

Gaudelive has won one national and two international awards, for her work with women raped during the genocide. But she says that life is not getting any easier for women like Bertherltide, despite the passage of time.

"Their lives are very hard. Some women who were raped contracted HIV/AIDS. Most have no access to anti retroviral drugs or even medicines for opportunistic infections because they hide what happened and they only discuss it with others like themselves," Gaudelive points out.

Will these women benefit from the current process of justice, peace and reconciliation? Gaudelive thinks the odds are against it. "Most of them do not know the fathers of their children. Sometimes the men who raped these women are already dead, and some of those who were in prison for it have already been released," she explains.

Like other rape victims, Bertherltide is expected to testify in the Gacaca process. But she says the justice system has already been a disappointment for her. In 1996, two of the men she accused of raping her were arrested; one died in prison, the other was released in 2003. She complained about the release to the prosecutor, but says that nothing was done about it. As for the future, she is not optimistic about seeing justice done.

"Gacaca is making it worse. They say we must tell the people. The Gacaca book says we must say what happened. Do you think I can stand up and say so and so did such and such to me? How can I say it? Who can I tell it to?" Bertherltide asks bitterly.

"I feel am only ready to tell someone who can help me and advise me, telling it to the rest of the population is useless because today when they see you walking they mock and say 'that one is finished', she reckons.

Gaudelive agrees that it is difficult for rape victims to retell their stories in court and for good reason. "At first women who were raped used to testify but nowadays, they don't want to because nothing happened after their testimony. No one helped them. That's why it is difficult to tell these women that they should tell it to their neighbors during Gacaca, neighbors who have no training and who cannot help them with their trauma. We tell them to testify but most are not willing," Gaudelive explains

There are other reasons why rape victims might not trust Gacaca. They fear that some of those people participating in Gacaca are relatives of alleged rapists, or may themselves have betrayed people hiding from the genocide.

"We encourage them to reconcile but it is difficult because of these problems," Gaudelive says. She argues that more must be done to help such women deal with the challenges they face. Financial assistance would obviously help, but it seems they need more than that just money.

"Justice should go hand in hand with medical care because they have been injured in body and in spirit. Something should be done to help those with children born out of rape deal with the relationship, to accept the children, because most families don't," Gaudelive urges.

So what does Bertherltide think about her future and that of her son? "God help him," she prays. "Maybe he will grow up and buy land, maybe he will stay in school, and we can just go on. Don't street children survive somehow? In a way, he is also a street child," she muses.

She says she would benefit from more financial and medical support, but maintains that her biggest challenge will always be her son. "Sometimes I feel as if I will lose my mind. But I take it the way it is. I mean if I hate him who do I give him to? He is mine, where can I take him?" she asks. "I wish I could get a volunteer willing to take him. I would gladly give him away," she adds.

Children born of rape are very vulnerable. They are often unwanted and unloved. Their mothers are also vulnerable. Many are too sick or too traumatized be to be able to give such children the support they need. Most look for help from the outside world and for many, it's a question of too little, and often, too late.