On April 6, 1994, Juvénal Habyarimana’s private plane was shot down near Kigali airport, in Rwanda. The aircraft crashed on the president’s own yard, killing everyone onboard. Urban legend has that Habyarimana’s head landed in his swimming pool. Prior to his death, the president had worked hard to increase racial tension between two of the three tribes in Rwanda, the Hutu and the Tutsi. He’d created programs to train young men how to kill. Habyarimana was a major force behind anti-tutsi propaganda on the radio. The man also worked hard to become a champion for the Hutu majority. Habyarimana had invested years into planning a genocide.
Habyarimana didn’t get to see the fruit of his labor- his death triggered the nearly one-hundred-day-long killing spree of about a million Tutsis. Women were raped and murdered. Many of those who survived had contracted HIV. Children watched as their parents were killed before they too, were slaughtered. Men were tortured and hacked to death with machetes. The carnage was unimaginable as a country was ripped in half by a racial tension that didn’t exist until the twentieth century and which was exacerbated by european influence. The conflict transitioned when the Rwandan Patriotic Front- comprised mostly of Tutsis who’d fled during earlier persecutions took control of the country. Retribution killings ensued.
That was 19 years ago.
Rwanda hasn’t forgotten about the genocide. Citizens speak openly about it- many still mourn husbands and parents lost, children who never got to grow up and survivors whose lives will never be the same. And yet, the Hutu and Tutsi live in relative peace. The current government has made it a point that nothing like the 1994 genocide will ever happen again. Each year during the 100 days, purple signs remind citizens that they best they can do now is to learn from the past.
Government propaganda might suffice to start a genocide, but it isn’t enough to repair the damage done by one. So how does any peace exist? The explanation I heard over and over while I was there is that people are learning to forgive each other. For murder. For torture. For rape. Genocide.
I was only in Rwanda for two weeks, but I spoke with murderers. I shook their hands. I listened to the stories of people who’d lost loved ones. Some were the only survivors in their whole family. I’m not sure I’ve ever talked to someone who’s intentionally killed another person before. The good news was that these people didn’t look like killers. There weren’t any hockey masks or scary makeup to make them stand out from the crowd. These people didn’t speak any differently than anyone else- if they did, it was with an undertone of remorse for their actions. Otherwise, they were regular people.
Rwanda has six reconciliation villages. Places where perpetrators and victims purposely live together. These communities all have access to counseling and workshops to help people deal with resentfulness and grief and to get along. Residents chose to move to these villages- participation is completely voluntary. People want to forgive. Which seems to be a miracle- a legitimate act of God. I hate cliches, but some of them are undeniably true.
To err is human, to forgive, divine.
I actually hate that idiom, it sounds completely contrived. But forgiving a man who murdered your children and spouse and choosing to be his neighbor doesn’t seem to be within a regular human’s abilities. Even a great person ought to struggle with that one. Rwanda isn’t necessarily a Christian nation, but Christianity definitely is a major influence. Unfortunately, it was also hugely prevalent when the genocide happened. But that just means that Christians aren’t necessarily great people. That’s been clear from the start.
Perhaps the people of Rwanda have realized that forgiveness started with God and that’s helped them to extend it to their neighbors (Col. 3:13). Reconciliation is definitely necessary in a country that’s been destroyed by genocide, but we have plenty of want for it here in America, too. We need it in our destroyed marriages, extreme political opposition, broken relationships, isolation and yes, even in racial tension. God, please help us to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. Help us to understand reconciliation and even to desire it.
*The image is from the Genocide Memorial in Kigali, Rwanda. Photos are of people who lost their lives during the genocide.
Amazing. For real. For a nation torn apart there is no hope but forgiveness. Yes cliches feel empty and trite but forgiveness like that? It’s a miracle. Divine.
Glad to have you back, Jake.
David, what’s interesting is how much I keep encountering a need for forgiveness now that I’m home. I need to ask so-and-so. Someone else tells me about their own bitterness and how they can never forgive. Phone calls that start and end with tears. I haven’t been home for two weeks yet. What is this? Oh America. How are we going to get you fixed.