Burundi's own Romeo and Juliet story
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By early 2006, Anita hadn't talked to her mother for seven months. So she was surprised to get an invitation to come home.
Walking into her mother's house, she was welcomed warmly. Her mother told her that if Kamenge's tensions were ever going to fade, they had to be erased within their own family first. It helped, of course, that Anita had made her mom the grandmother of a pudgy girl named Chadia. Just a few months later, in May, Anita's mom died - but not before blessing her bond with Haruna.
Although many have reconciled, not all is harmonious in Burundi. The National Liberation Front rebel group is refusing to join a cease-fire monitoring team, despite having signed an accord with the government last month. The government - a coalition of former rebels - is negotiating with the United Nations on how to structure a truth and reconciliation commission and a parallel court for war crimes. But observers worry that Burundi's leaders will use "reconciliation" to ensure impunity for their own war crimes. They "want to protect themselves," says Serge Nibizi, chief editor of African Public Radio here. Civil society is pushing for a justice-heavy approach that prevents impunity.
Meanwhile, sitting in their two-room apartment, with posters of Bob Marley and rapper 50 Cent adorning crumbling concrete walls, Anita and Haruna still exchange shy, flirty smiles. Theirs isn't likely to be an easy life. Both of them dropped out of high school, and making do in Burundi's sluggish economy is tough. Yet, at least in terms of ethnicity, things are changing in their neighborhood and nation. Now, Anita says, with a wise smile, many of the very girlfriends who once warned her not to date Haruna, "have Hutu boyfriends themselves."
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One man chooses to forgive the boy who killed his son |
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For a mere $5 - maybe less - in the lawless last days of 2004, a farmer named Gregoire Nsekerabandya could have arranged the killing of the boy who had just murdered his eldest son. After all, his son, Yves, had been shot for refusing a demand by his one-time friend, Eric, to shine the shoes of Eric's militia commander. Yves balked, and his last words were, "I don't have any water" to shine them with.
Mr. Nsekerabandya even heard the gunshot. "When a child comes to the earth, you are expecting so much from him," he says solemnly. "When all the expectations fall down in one second, it's very sorrowful."
Yet he didn't rush for revenge. Instead, he wrestled with guidance from the Bible: "It says you should respond with good deeds to bad deeds," he explains. "If I was not a good prayer, I might have taken revenge" on Eric or his family "to try to make them feel like I did."
In April 2005, he went to a reconciliation workshop. Organizers realized Eric and his mom were also participating. So, in a kind of ambush reconciliation, they united the group.
Apologies flowed. Eric sank to his knees and asked forgiveness while his mother, Jeanne Nahimana, apologized for him. Nsekerabandya accepted both apologies. "It wasn't your fault," he told Ms. Nahimana. Now she has great empathy for Nsekerabandya, whom she reverently calls "old man."
Since the apologies, the families have forged a bond. "We are now sharing water," he says, "and farming tools."
"If he needs anything," she adds, "he comes to our house."
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Next part: Shortest path to healing: Mercy or justice?
Full Coverage:
Africa After War: Paths to Forgiveness
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