During the month of memorial and mourning for the 11th anniversary of the genocide in 2005 I sat with a group of 3 pastors who work in prisons in Rwanda – John and Amos I knew well – dedicated workers living on limited income, faithfully reaching into the prisons with love and discipling.

The third man was new to me – and I sat entranced as he spoke. Ps Mugabo lost many loved ones in the genocide of 1994 while he was living in a refugee camp in Tanzania.

When he came to lead an Assemblies of God fellowship in the east of Rwanda after 94, he became aware of the needs of the thousands of prisoners accused of involvement in the terrible events that led to the death of 1million people in 100 days. He decided to visit the local prison.

Let’s think about that: the prison is full of men [and a few women] accused of genocidal acts and some of these people might have participated in the attacks on Mugabo’s own relatives.

So Mugabo first faced his own pain and grieved the loss of his loved ones. He felt what it was like to lose his family irretrievably. He had reflected on his own life and failures and how he received God’s love and forgiveness as a believer. Then he had considered the perpetrators, felt the anger and the fear that their action brought, and let go of his bitterness towards them and surrendered to God his desire for revenge. This act of forgiveness opened Mugabo to the grace of God and enabled him to take that love to those who had been 10 years in jail thinking about whether to cover up or confess their actions.

For the last two years he has visited every Tuesday and Thursday. Prisoners responded and, said Mugabo, there was much repentance. Some of the prisoners have understood that their repentance and confession to God would ring true when they apologised to those affected by their actions. They asked Mugabo if he would arrange for them to meet with the surviving families of those they attacked.

Pastor Mugabo has been able to bring survivor families to the prison four times. He said me it is not an easy job – I don’t have time to do all that I could- its costly to get the survivors to come to the prison.

“Can you explain what you mean by costly?” I asked. It means money – some of the families come from 45 km away and I have been paying for that out of my own pocket, as well as all my own travel out to the communities. Then it dawned on me that Mugabo wasn’t just visiting the prison – he was going out to the survivors [relatives of victims] in various communities as an intermediary.

But costly means more than that, he added. When I visit the families I come as a pastor. I pray with the family and tell them about Jesus. Then I explain that I’ve come to pass on a specific message: ‘ So and so who killed your relatives greets you from the local prison; he is sorry about what he did and would like to meet you to apologise’.

He paused. By now, I am not a welcome messenger, the survivors have someone to whom they can direct the anger that has built up in them.

The people become aggressive

– why are you only coming to us, when we know that man killed other people too!

– why is this prisoner only confessing to killing 1 or 2 or 10, but not others he killed?

– Why are you representing this criminal?

– Are you telling us we must forgive this animal?

As he became the target of their pent-up emotions, Mugabo realised he could not afford to be closely aligned with the prisoner. He developed his responses from the heat of those moments, such as

– During the genocide I was not in this country

– I was born in a refugee camp

– I came to Rwanda to minister as a pastor

– I lost relatives too, I am a survivor like you

– I’m a messenger, not a relative or crony of the accused

– We only visit survivors in the morning, as most of them are drunk in the afternoon [and their behaviour is worse]

– I am supported by one lady survivor who believes in what I am doing and accompanies me on the visits, which helps as most of the survivors are women.

I told him I was amazed at the faith, wisdom and on-the-job learning of a 41 yr old man. He continued: In the four cases where I have succeeded in bringing the parties together, 3 of the families accepted the apology of the prisoner and forgave him.

I note here that the matter of justice – both punishment and restoration of items taken or destroyed – will be faced through the community- based courts known as ‘gacaca’.

The fourth lady received the confession from the prisoner and responded:

“ I am the only one who survived in my family. I lost my Tutsi husband and the few survivors in my area are Tutsi, who don’t want to know me, a Hutu. Now I have to get water and firewood myself. I’m ready to forgive you when my children and grandchildren come back from the dead”.

Ps Mugabo continued – the work is time consuming and costly – one prisoner who confessed named 12 families he wanted to meet – there’s no way I have the time and money to convince them all to come and meet him. But how powerful it would be if they could!

I am also responsible for my family and my congregation. And I’m working with ex-prisoners – those accused who made written confession to the authorities and have been released from prison, pending their gacaca. I am discipling 10 of them and facilitating their meeting with 18 survivors from the families they attacked. This group of 28 meet twice a month for counselling, prayer and evaluation.

I suddenly realised, he was telling me that this group has reconciled and embraced each other as fully human again.

These people now work as one group farming, growing food as a way of restoring justice. They hope to form an Association where they can do more together. Members of this group of 28 recently told their story on national television and now accompany some of the ex-prisoners as they go to meet survivors and confess.

This is beginning to impact some communities – people have said to me: look – this one and that one have walked free for 11 years. Even though they killed many during 1994, they treat us with contempt, as though we survivors are the guilty ones. But then this prisoner who has been released comes and speaks to us and apologises for what he did. At least they recognise how much we lost, and admit their part.

Mugabo wearily paused: The work is too much. I do have the support of my family and church, and they send food for some of the prisoners. I work with one fellow chaplain and we share a lot. God’s Spirit and occasional fellowship with others in this ministry keeps me going, but I do meet difficulties that affect me and reduce my capacity – I hear traumatic material all the time. We need so many more chaplains now – this is a great opportunity for Rwanda’s healing, but where would we get the resources to train and support them?

There is a role for this kind of quiet, peacebuilding process in bringing restorative justice at the grassroots in Rwanda. Outside of any system imposed from the top-down its merit is a local initiative. If more pastors, priests and lay leaders were to be trained based on this man’s experience, the prospects would increase for more face to face interaction between prisoners and victim/survivors leading to reconciliation and restorative justice.

I reflected back my awe at the wisdom God has given him – and affirm my desire to tell his story and encourage people to pray and give. This is a significant contribution to the healing of one district of Rwanda. But how will it be multiplied in other areas? That’s the desire, and the question, of John and Amos.

Jesus said: blessed are the peacemakers, they will be called the children of God, Matt 5:9. James 3:18 says peacemakers who sow peace reap a harvest of justice. I know what that means for Mugabo – but what does it mean for you and me?

Compiled by Dr John Steward

1 Sept 2005