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Cover
story BURUNDI DIARY
By LAURENT LARCHER
Burundi
While the 1994 genocide in Rwanda received world attention,
the conflict in Burundi that took place around the same time unfolded to
general indifference. French photojournalist Laurent Larcher accompanied the
French Pontifical Mission Society on a fact-finding trip to Rwanda and Burundi
in July 2001. The report below looks at the effects of the ethnic violence
between Hutus and Tutsis in Burundi -- violence that claimed the lives of
approximately 250,000 people during the 1990s and displaced an estimated
800,000 people. Larchers diary of the trip captures something of the
daily experience of people living in a nation still suffering from war and
shows the efforts of the Catholic church to play a role in healing the
divisions within Burundi society.
The first stop on our trip to
Burundi is its capital city of Bujumbura, located on the western side of Lake
Tanganyika. The Abbé Gabriel, secretary of the Catholic bishops
conference, welcomes us at the airport. We head for the bishops palace,
and on the road we learn that the capital of Burundi is in a state of siege. It
is defending itself against the Hutu-dominated National Forces of Liberation,
often called the FNL, which is besieging the city in armed rebellion. The FNL
doesnt yet have the means to seize Bujumbura, but is acting more as a
guerrilla force with raids in villages, ambushes against the army and attacks
on roads.
In the streets of the capital, there are armed soldiers
everywhere. The uniforms are frequently worn and threadbare, the soldiers often
very young. When brief engagements with the rebels take place, the army has the
reputation for not distinguishing between civilians and combatants. Starting at
4:30 p.m., the axis roads that link the city with the outside are closed. At 11
p.m. there is curfew. Apart from these restrictions, an almost normal life is
possible in the city.
Another rebellion is taking place in the north of the country.
This rebel movement is larger, more successful and more dangerous. The Forces
for Democratic Defense, the FDD, is also dominated by Hutus. Its leader, Jean
Bosco, won a name for himself in the Congolese war. Now with the Democratic
Republic of the Congo on the path to normalization, Boscos Hutus,
supported covertly by the regime in Kinshasa, the Democratic Republic of the
Congos capital city, are returning to Burundi. Thus two zones of major
tension exist in the country, to which is added the pressure exercised by the
refugee camps. In addition to camps of displaced Hutus and Tutsis in the
interior, there are camps outside Burundi, mainly in Tanzania, with an
estimated 377,000 principally Hutu refugees.
Bishop Evariste Ngoyagoye welcomes us warmly when we arrive at his
home. He is surrounded by a cadre of young priests of various ethnic origins.
They are happy to see us. We have the impression we are forgotten,
explains one of them. We get to know one another over a local beer. The Arusha
accords are discussed. The majority is skeptical: As long as the military
leaders of the rebellion will not be invited to the negotiating table, nothing
solid can be built. This evening one priest is missing: the Abbé Jonas.
Operated on two days ago for appendicitis diagnosed late, this young priest of
35 years is still in an unstable condition. Everybody is worried.
After a short night, everyone at the bishops palace prepares
for one of the most important days of the year. Today, seven seminarians of the
diocese will be ordained priests. The ceremony will be held in a symbolic
place: Ngara, one of three districts north of the capital. Last Feb. 27, the
FNL laid siege to Kinama, near Ngara. The army retook Kinama March 10.
There were hundreds of deaths, principally of civilians. Houses must be
reconstructed and a climate of trust reestablished.
Fragile peace
The social tissue is fragile, explains the Abbé
Gabriel. It is still marked by the massacres of October 1993 and those of
1995. Under the effect of these killings, the northern districts, the
poorest quarters, are Balkanized.
The fragile peace in Bujumbura also extends to these northern
districts. But everyone knows that in the grip of fear, of political and
psychological manipulation, that new massacres are more possible here than
elsewhere. In choosing one of the three northern quarters as the scene of the
ordinations, the bishop is trying to combat separatism and hatred. Thus, from
10 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., Ngara vibrates to the rhythm of processions, to
tambourines, dances, chants, applause, the usual sounds of ordination
ceremonies in Burundi.
Look, here Hutus and Tutsis are mixed. One speaks, prays,
lives with others without trying to figure out who is who, explains
21-year-old Jean-Louis, a liberal arts student.
Another student, Elysée, elaborates. Everybody
desires peace. The civil war in Burundi is driven by clans fighting over power.
Each contestant uses ethnicity in order to advance his personal ambitions.
These ordinations manifest our willingness to construct together a common
world.
The day is a great success.
At 6 in the evening, on returning to the bishops house,
brutal news greets us: Jonas has just died. Everyone is stricken, the bishop
most of all. To die of appendicitis at 35
The doctors first
diagnosed amoebas, the next day painful constipation, and the third day,
finally, appendicitis. But too late, he says.
Sunday, Abbé Gabriel drives us to a parish on the exterior
of Bujumbura: Buhonga, a hillside spot dominated by Hutus. The FNL is present
in the zone, so we can stay only several hours. We assist at the second Mass of
the morning. The church is full -- perhaps 2,500 people. Intense and fervid
prayer. A beautiful community, but according to its Hutu abbé, not yet
liberated enough from recent history to be directed by a Tutsi pastor.
Monday, we assist at the funeral of the Abbé Jonas. We push
back our departure for Ngozi in the north of Burundi to the beginning of the
afternoon. Jonas had been ordained just a year, almost to the day. Emotion is
intense.
Making war on war
Once on the road, Gabriel doesnt speak for several minutes.
The zone were passing through is occupied by the FNL rebels. In general,
they dont attack during the day, but sometimes it happens. We dont
dawdle. Along the way, we occasionally run across municipal militias. Armed by
the government, they are in charge of their own defense against rebel attacks.
As night falls we arrive at Ngozi. Bishop Stanislas Kaburungu welcomes us with
a frank and vigorous handshake. He is happy to see Gabriel again. Naturally,
the death of Jonas is discussed. And then we speak of what happens here. It is
unique, exceptional, exemplary.
In the region of Ngozi, the slaughter was massive,
Kaburungu says. We have seen war unfold before our eyes. In 1996 we came
together to reflect on how we could end our internal fighting. The same desire
animated us: to make war on war, with our own means. We decided to focus on our
economic development.
After having installed an electric network, we decided to
construct a coffee factory. Until then, the coffee grown in our region was
roasted at Bujumbura. We decided to roast it locally. In several weeks, we had
collected 6 million French francs to use for launching the factory. Today, we
see its benefits.
Then in 1998 we decided it was necessary to have our own
university. The idea was mad! We proposed that everyone become a founding
member. The success was immediate. From thousands of people we collected
contributions: The university was a chance for their child. In 1999 we opened.
Then we started to look for a fund to create student
credits. The Italian bishops conference understood immediately the stakes
of the project and gave $1 million. We invested this money, and with the
interest we opened a bank: COFIDE, or Financial Company for Development. This
is what provides student loans. Today, COFIDE permits 243 young people out of
the 700 students registered this year to undertake higher education. COFIDE
also supports local development programs. In the villages, people come together
because of these programs. The social tissue is strengthened: The fears and the
barriers between different ethnic groups are falling. We are building a new
society.
Since 1996, the region of Ngozi has not only prospered but also
has not experienced the fires of violence. Two former prime ministers are
participating in the undertaking with the goal of working for the common
good.
After the visit to Ngozi, we start off the next day in the
direction of Gitega. The memorial of Kimbiba lies along the way. Here, Oct. 23,
1993, 100 Tutsi students were delivered by the school director into the hands
of a Hutu militia. Shut up inside the school, the students were burned
alive.
We stay the night at the Seminary Jean Paul II in Gitega. Bishop
Simon Ntamwana, president of the bishops conference, leads a retreat of
young priests. In the face of the tragic and monstrous events we have
lived through, Ive been frightened by the superficiality of faith on the
part of some of the Burundi people. Happily, the youngest call us to account. I
see among the seminarians, for example, a willingness to leave behind hate and
suspicion. The younger generation is more disposed to live together than their
parents were. They are less susceptible to ethnocentrism. I see in them a real
sign of hope.
Wednesday, we depart for the small seminary of Buta in the south.
The seminary is becoming a place of reconciliation and memorial. The
Abbé Leopold, a teacher at the small seminary, was witness to the events
of April 1997.
Remembering a massacre
There were 250 children, ages 11 to 19, the priest
said. On April 30, 1997, around 5:30, we heard shots. In several minutes,
the assailing rebels had become masters of the seminary. The soldiers charged
with protecting us had fled. A troop of rebels had taken over the dormitories.
The little ones on the first floor dormitory were able to flee by the windows,
but not the older students on the second. The assailants gathered us in the
middle of the room and demanded that we separate into Hutus and Tutsi. The
students refused. They were united. Then the leader of the group, an enraged
woman, ordered their killing. There were 70 students. The assailants fired
their grenades. When the rebels left the seminary, I counted 40 bodies. The
30th of each month, the families of the victims and the seminarians come to
Buta to commemorate the massacre. In April, the diocese organizes a pilgrimage
to celebrate the witness these students offered. The young people of the region
love to come here to find each other. Since the opening of a sanctuary in 1998,
the assailants have tried to destroy it three times.
Today, the assailants are just 30 kilometers away from the small
seminary.
Before we leave, Leopold shows us his dispensary. He has obtained
permission from the church to practice traditional medicine. His remedies are
based on plants, and with them he treats numerous illnesses, above all malaria.
Considering the success hes had, it seems the remedies work.
We return to Bujumbura. There, in the capital, the church does
what it can to fight against two calamities: the children of the street and
AIDS. Since 1995, the number of children living on the streets has continued to
grow. Its estimated that 8,000 children live on the streets of Bujumbura.
At the Organization for the Development of Children, they can sleep in security
and learn the coppersmiths trade. The orphanage of Notre Dame de la
Tendresse, run by the sisters of Bene-Bernadeta, is home to about 50 orphans.
AIDS is a source of worry to all: 30 percent of the population is
HIV-positive. The Society of the Missionaries of Africa have opened a center
called Bonne Espérance (good hope). One of the priests there
confides to us that, in the nearby high school, the teachers estimate that 85
percent of the students are HIV-positive. With malaria lately on the increase,
AIDS is killing more people than the civil war did.
What conclusions should we take from Burundi? Neither disease nor
the recent violence in the country seems to have quelled the Burundians
will to live. Although Burundi is one of the poorest nations in the world, it
does not seem to be one of the most desperate. The Catholic church in Burundi
is determined to serve peace and is seeking support for its efforts. It begs us
not to believe that ethnic problems are insurmountable and notes that the
crisis in Burundi is first and foremost a political crisis. Most of those we
met in Burundi are hopeful. They say the people of Burundi have always lived
together and that they are once again resuming a shared life together.
This story was translated from the French by Margot
Patterson.
National Catholic Reporter, February 22,
2002
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