Drinking from the Waterfall – God was my Companion

I had reached the moment of no return. Feeling my vulnerability I prayed: “ God, please give me insight for what is ahead”. I spent an hour listening to my heart and writing down what came – then I closed my notebook and sat on my bed in the tropical heat, wondering what it would be like. Tomorrow I would go into Rwanda and begin the most challenging assignment of my life. Nothing in my theology or faith journey had prepared me for what I was about to face; I did not have a clue what I would do. And so my wife and I flew with our bagful of uncertainties into the eerie quietness of Sunday morning in Kigali as people soberly walked the streets going to and from church. By contrast the following day I received an overwhelming welcome: everybody in the organization came to shake my hand and assure me that I had a most difficult task. Some added: “and please don’t ask me to forgive anyone”.

Rwanda hosted one of the twentieth century’s horrors – the 1994 genocide, in which some extreme Hutu elements resolved to eliminate all Tutsi and sympathetic or moderate Hutu. Up to one million people were killed in 100 days. That is the equivalent of three September 11 attacks on the Twin Towers of New York per day for 100 consecutive days! We arrived almost three years later – just as one and a half million Hutu refugees returned from exile in Congo, carrying the guilt and shame of the carnage of the genocide, and the pain of months of surviving in makeshift refugee settlements. Thousands had died when a cholera epidemic struck the camps. I did not realise that soon after the genocide about a million Tutsi and moderate Hutu, who had lived for years in exile, had also returned to Rwanda bearing their own stories of suffering in exile. And since they had occupied the houses vacated by the Hutu exodus in 1994, now in early 1997 these two groups met face to face, mostly for the first time in their life. Squeezed in between them were the victims of the genocide, the 27% of the population who had lost one or more family members in the 3 months of slaughter. I, and many other expatriate aid workers, had been thrust into a cauldron of chaos, seasoned with pain and bitterness, shame and loss.

For almost three years Rwanda had settled into a stupor, a false peace of unresolved tensions; now it became a whirlpool of anger and blame. Nearly 130,000 were accused of involvement and held in prisons meant for less than 15,000 people. The faces of people in public spoke eloquently of their grim past and apprehensive reality. Morning radio often carried gruesome reports of guerilla attacks on isolated communes at night, attempts to complete the unfinished task; the roads were dangerous and even children were being attacked. You could cut the tension with a knife. Life in Kigali was so intense it felt like I was trying to drink from a waterfall. Yet I was also searching for signs of hope from a life-giving God.

A lesson about listening

My role was Manager of reconciliation and peacebuilding with an international Non- Government Organization. My predecessor and his national counterpart had departed after ‘irreconcilable differences’. The term ‘reconciliation’ seemed irrelevant to many of national colleagues on staff who were engaged in the urgent and satisfying work of tracing orphan children, reuniting them with relatives, agricultural recovery, rehabilitation of bridges, clinics and schools. After several weeks, I realised that the message behind the warm welcome from my colleagues was : “it’s too difficult for us, it’s your job to bring reconciliation, not ours; best of luck”.

Just before leaving Australia I had been introduced to a centre which trained people for spiritual direction and one of the graduates had become my director. During this time God was teaching me about trust in unceasing grace, especially in dark times. So in our first week in Kigali we visited the Jesuit centre where a memorial marks the spot where the first killings of the genocide had taken place – punishment for men and women of faith and integrity who had prophetically spoken out against the intentions of the government. We asked the priest for advice on finding a spiritual director. He was warm but firm: “ If you do not speak French, you would have to go to Uganda for spiritual direction”. This was impossible. That evening I mused over what to do, when I remembered some words that I had read in Australia just before leaving for Africa [I can not remember the source]: “listening is the greatest form of loving”. I wrote this saying at the top of the whiteboard in my tiny office in Kigali, and reflected on them everyday. One afternoon, as the sun streamed into my office, the thought came to me: “so that’s what Jesus meant when he said ‘the one who has ears to hear, let them hear’. I show my love to God by listening to what God has to say”.

Since I did not know what to do, I could certainly listen. Every day people came to talk – staff, church leaders, youth, prison workers. Others visited my spouse 100 metres down the road at the villa we shared with the trauma department. After the preliminary welcomes, they usually told their story of horror and loss, shame and struggle. Each night we’d compare stories, then type a journal for ourselves. From this we prepared a monthly e-mail summary for our families and praying friends. We had asked friends and family to join a support team of 100, allocating three or four people for each day of the month. This was a source of untold solace and strength.

We had one other strategy for self-care. For some years before Rwanda my spouse meditated for relief of backpain, and had journeyed towards facilitating small groups in contemplative prayer. I had meditated as a way of increasing energy levels during the filming of some interactive video workshops. Now, after the evening security check-in, we ended our day by sitting and meditating for 30 minutes. We found this to be a way of releasing to God the awful horrors which we had absorbed during the day. Stories like the young woman who held up a bag and rattled it, saying: “If I buried the bones of my parents, then I’d be totally alone, wouldn’t I”. Or the man who said: “you talk to me about forgiveness? Everyday I see the man who killed my wife, and his daughters wear the dresses which belonged to my daughters, whom he also killed. Do you want me to offer them forgiveness?” My appreciation of the positive value of this discipline grew after my spouse had taught several widows to meditate. Two of them came to her and said: “ We thought that the genocide had assigned us to loneliness, there are no men to spare and we are unlikely to marry again, but through meditation the gap has been filled – now we know God as the lover of our soul”. It was more than peace that filled me each day, the presence of the divine accompanier became real to me.

By replacing the feelings of turmoil with an inner peace from God, we slept with sufficient renewal of body and spirit to rise early the next day and face a new barrage of stories, challenges and opportunities. We also became bearers of that peace to others, who began to seek it for themselves. We began to find out peacelovers; one man came a long distance to say “ I realise how important peace and reconciliation is to the future of our country. I live in a dangerous area, but I am willing to do anything that contributes to peace, even if it costs my life” . Our life became rich in hope, and it was not all struggle and sacrifice: Rwanda is a beautiful country of thousands of hills, with an almost perfect climate for nine months, the food is varied, fresh and enjoyable and we came to love the dignity and general liveliness of Rwandese; we had a sense of being where we should.

At work I tried to use a translator and held several meetings forming a support group for the pastors and priests in Kanazi, an area where the genocide had devastating effects. I could read their faces, but not their minds or their hearts. And their feelings were too deep for words; translation just did not work. After two months I apologised for taking their time and gave up. Meanwhile I visited with the groups who had participated in peacebuilding events under my predecessor. The discussion was similar each time – “oh, yes, we had a week of reconciliation seminars, they were good, please could you fund more events like this?” When I asked for feedback and stories of reconciliation, forgiveness, restoration of relationships etc I received the same response: “this is Rwanda, you cannot expect that sort of thing here”. I found plans, activities and reports but not one story of healing or forgiveness. I recommended to the management team that we cease all activity in so-called reconciliation until we found an approach that might actually help. I was beginning to feel the challenge of the responsibility, and the words of Hb 12:2 kept coming to my mind: “Jesus endured the cross because of the joy that was set before him”.

Work with the willing

Then I had an idea – after three months of looking, listening, asking and searching I was reminded of the notes I had made that night in Nairobi. I reviewed them and shared them with a few Rwandese whom I had come to trust and respect. Each made suggestions, but gave a similar response: I’ve never thought of putting my ideas on paper like that, but what you are thinking makes sense. In consultation with these men and women, we defined a strategy in which the cry for justice [the theme of the government] would be delayed, as would the cry for forgiveness [the theme of the churches]. The cry of the people was for help – you could see it on their faces and hear it in their stories. Most Rwandese were dysfunctional, because personal boundaries were so damaged that life energy was needed to keep in the pain and to hold oneself together. People first needed, to bring their pain out into the open and grieve their losses before their wounds would begin to heal. In the words of Lincoln Ndogoni our Kenyan psychologist: “everyone has a story to tell, a pain to bear, a grief to heal”. Even if only a few were ready to seek help, we would work with the willing and support them in their search for change.

Then I found out about the Personal development workshop, an experiment in healing with five sessions, each one month apart.

‘Personal development workshop’ [PDW].

TITLE OF SESSION DURATION CONTENT

1. Information day One day Commitment to a process based on trust; the rules of protection; understanding Rwanda’s history

2. Bereavement and Loss Three days Denial, guilt, responsibility, bereavement. Small group process.

3. Emotions Three days Valuing emotions, exploring feelings and emotions through the eyes of the parent, adult and child within.

4. Forgiveness Three days The concept of social violence, no forgiveness without justice, conditions of forgiveness.

5. Evaluation & Celebration One day What was important to me, how have I been affected as a person.

After staff in the trauma department participated in the first PDW, their manager told me of signs of positive change in her team, and she offered to run the workshop for staff from other departments. After that event one of our regional supervisors radioed in to say: “What are you doing to my staff who have just attended your workshop? Before, one of them would not speak, now we can’t keep them quiet; another would never negotiate, now she openly does it; a third would not work with others, now he cooperates happily with the whole team”. We felt then that something healthy was beginning to happen. Seven years later we are sure about that.

One result of the genocide was a high level of fear and mistrust in the society. Personal boundaries were damaged and people were withdrawn and selfprotective. This, with denial of pain and need, was a way of coping while getting on with daily survival. The PDW is radical in that it invites participants of both ethnicities to work in small groups based on mutual honesty and trust – something which few Rwandese were ready to risk. By working with the willing and offer ‘shelter’ to the group through a daily individual commitment to the ‘rules of protection’ [including pledges to respect the other, paying attention, confidentiality and speaking the truth], most participants safely completed the process. At first the facilitation was by the skilful and experienced creator of the course Dr Gasibirege, a psychologist (who had earlier studied for the priesthood); he had lived in exile in Europe for 31 years and had been impressed by some of the healing achieved by survivors of the holocaust. Over time several from our staff volunteered to facilitate the small groups and two of them eventually became the workshop leaders for the whole organisation. The PDW is run in Kinyarwanda, the heart language of the Rwandese.

The initial focus on grieving losses and farewelling departed members of the extended family ( session 2) brought painful energy to the surface and opened participants to then consider their pent up emotions of fear, hatred, anger and love ( session 3). The discovery that we can embrace and honour our emotions rather than suppress them was a freeing insight for many, in contrast to the Rwandese proverb: “the tears of a man flow down the inside to his stomach” [ ie they are suppressed and unseen]. After two months of integrating these insights the workshop discussed forgiveness and justice ( session 4). Small group processes dominate the PDW, and allow a rebirth in trust. The invitation to face one’s truth in a confidential environment led to an openness for emotions to surface within a safe space. As people began to hear each other’s stories for the first time they found hope, humility, new understanding and mutual respect. Compassion began to emerge, and sometimes even love for a member of the other ethnic group. Each night during the course participants returned to their homes and process what they had gained with their extended family remnants. The final day ( session 5) is exhilarating and moving as participants tell how their lives and attitudes have changed, how they can now look at more distant horizons and how they are reaching out to others. Vibrant dancing, the sharing of presents, testimonies and tears of joy (in public) celebrates the first steps of a hopeful journey.

The concern of management that our organization could not afford the luxury of staff spending so much time in workshops, led me to participate in the process, with a translator. After feeling its impact in my own life, and seeing close-up its effect on Rwandese and the way close bonds form with fellow participants [ bonds which remain palpable whenever we embrace more than six years later], I assured fellow managers that they could not afford for their staff to miss the workshops – suggesting that work output would double as a result of the inner healing. Over the next two years over 200 staff participated, in groups of 20. The positive results were patent to all and we then expanded the workshops into the grass roots and to some prisoners. I believe the PDW will play a part in the healing of Rwandese over the next decade.

Drocelle’s story

I had watched Drocelle with fascination during eight and a half days of interaction over several weeks in the PDW. During that time only one cm of skin around her mouth had moved when she talked. The rest of her face was frozen, motionless and sad. I never saw her smile or frown.

We were both in a small group with three others in the second day of session 4 on forgiveness. We came to the exercise where we were to reflect on something for which we found it hard to forgive ourselves. “That’s easy” said Drocelle, “I’m responsible for the death of my brother, I can never forgive myself for that terrible thing”. We asked her to explain. “When the genocide began, my brother wanted to run away to Burundi, but I said ‘no, the government radio is telling us to stay at home’. [This was a ruse to keep people in their place while killers with lists of addresses went house to house to corner their victims]. So he listened to me, we stayed at home and two days later he was dead. I am responsible for the death of my brother – how could I ever forgive myself for that?”

Quietly, without any awareness of where it would lead, we responded with simple questions. “….Did you call the killers?… did you want them to come?… Were you pleased that they came?… Did you want this to befall your brother?… Did you plan or desire it?….” After 25 minutes of enquiry, with long pauses between her answers, all of them in the negative, Drocelle looked at the group and said: “‘So I am not responsible for the death of my brother, am I.” It was a conclusion, not an enquiry.

As Drocelle spoke these words of truth I noticed how the skin of her cheeks began to move and wrinkles forming above her eyebrows. After processing a bit more, we broke for lunch and as I watched her from a distance I saw Drocelle smile – her first smile for three years.

When we returned to our groups to continue discussion I noticed how soft her face was becoming, the strain she carried was slowly dissolving. I sat there thinking: God, I sitting next to this woman and watching a miracle taking place, you are healing her from the inside. It is a holy, hope-filled moment.”

Several weeks later I went to the district where Drocelle worked. I wanted to hug her and see her face again. She greeted me with a warm smile, the change had stayed and joy had replaced strain on her face. We embraced. The body language told me all that I needed to know.

Healed people invite others towards healing

Another step forward was for me to recruit four Rwandese who were committed to the healing process. They first participated in the PDW, faced their own pain and began their journey towards healing and wholeness. Then they became facilitators in it . I worked with this small team for nine months, teaching them as much as I could. Central to that training were the days when I sent them out to visit the communities with one major condition – “ Go and get involved in the healing of others, try what is needed, and when you make a mistake please come and tell me so we can talk about it and find a better way”. Often their return reminded me of the disciples sent out by Jesus in Luke 10 – they came back with energy, hope, and insights into the hunger for reconciliation at the grass roots. They networked and catalysed various activities that have contributed to the tiny but growing momentum in Rwanda for healing, justice and wholeness. And they found and affirmed other people who had begun their own journey towards forgiveness and reconciliation.

I think, on reflection, they knew what to look for because they were also on that journey. One of the team has gone on to become director of a Rwandan aid organization, another was given the task of educating in schools, churches and prisons in preparation for Gacaca – the grassroots restorative justice process. Another has catalysed 2000 youth to form small groups of 15 [mixed gender and mixed ethnicity] who model reconciliation and make public presentations of their desire for peace through creative presentations of dance, drama, music and poetry. A fourth has now replaced me as coordinator of the peacebuilding and healing program. The latter two now have Rwandese spiritual directors.

Unlike the tendency to blame God in the overdeveloped world, Rwandese in general do not blame God for the genocide. It was so clearly an evil event. Before the genocide 80% of the population attended church, where a hierarchical approach, conformity to government policy and low literacy levels made it possible to manipulate many. Since 1994 church attendance remains high, possibly because God is the only ‘given’ in a society where everything else has changed. As one colleague who lost 250 of his extended family in the genocide explained: “ John I did not lose my faith in God, but I have lost a close loving family forever”.

I was able to work with my small team in a context of relying on God for wisdom, insight and help. We spent time together in prayer, reflection, scripture search, problem solving, accountability and in deepening our spiritual journey. We were an ecumenical group of believers united by our sense of call to be children of God [Mt 5: 9]. Our happiest moments were in “The reconciliation living room” – the back section of our Land cruiser where we sat face-to-face and had frank and intimate discussions as we travelled from one part of the country to another. It was formation ‘on the way’.

The team responded with refreshing openness to tough challenges and confronting personal insights, which carried them towards maturity as a community of peacebuilders. Their growth was both in faith and action. In 1998 tears of joy streamed down my face as I washed their feet and told them that I loved them – for I had listened to them more than any other persons in Rwanda. In turn they ‘adopted’ me into their families and gave me the name “Ruhumuliza”, meaning comforter. I had to leave Rwanda after 16 months when my work permit expired, as the government wanted locals to have the jobs. So I returned to Australia in mid ‘98, but have been back to Rwanda every six months to keep in touch with progress, assist in evaluation and contribute to reflection, documentation and planning. Every visit brings new stories of change, hope, healing. But there is a long way to go.

Insights for spiritual direction

In Australia I participated in the 1999 Formation program of the Australian Network of Spiritual Direction. To my amazement I discovered that in Rwanda, when I was not doing the management work of planning, budgeting and fundraising, I was either listening to God in order to discern what to do, or I was listening to hurting Rwandese and acting as a companion/spiritual director to my staff on their journey. My formal training as a Spiritual Director began in Rwanda, where in the intimate group of my team I experienced what I now observe in the privileged one-on-one position of companioning men and women

As I reflect on this Rwandan experience, I see how much I gained from the teachable moments, from God and my friends – about my life, my attitudes, my relationships, my service, and my calling to companion others on their journey in God. Among the insights that I have brought into my spiritual direction, as God’s gift to me from Rwanda, are:

1.. Listening to God is how I know that I love God.

2.. I can often only discern God’s will in the quiet and the detached moments of life. Prayer is the context in which I discern God’s working.

3.. When I reflect upon my daily life experience that is my most fruitful teacher.

4.. To be lost may only be one step away from being found.

5.. Blame and finger pointing prevents me from focussing on my own truth. Facing my truth is the start of a healthy self-love.

6.. Confidentiality is a crucial part of building trust.

7.. People, myself included, respond and share when we feel we are in a safe place. There I can tell my story and process my inner issues with honesty.

8.. Terentius, about 190BCE, said ‘Time heals all wounds’. I have come to believe that time does not heal, only healing heals.

9.. I have to first deal with my pain – wounds absorb so much energy and draws my focus inwards, it can make me dysfunctional on even mundane tasks.

10.. If other people need to ask for forgiveness, then maybe I do too.

11.. I must not use forgiveness as a way out of being held accountable for my actions. The balance between forgiveness and justice/doing right is delicate.

12.. The facilitator of reconciliation is always the first raw material for healing.

13.. When I work with the willing, their recommendation and energy will draw others at the right time.

14.. It’s not a mistake to make a mistake – it’s only human. But it is a mistake for me to repeat my mistakes. Solving the problems caused by my mistakes is a way to growth.

15.. Reconciliation is a complex process, a series of steps which can easily be blocked. One party may be willing to forgive but the other may not accept forgiveness. Or the one may not be ready to forgive although the other wants to say sorry. Saying ‘sorry’ – both for personal sin, and corporate sin, is a prerequisite to reconciliation.

Conclusion

My Rwandan experience deepened my life, and I found a God who did not allow me to have all the answers, who willed to struggle with the questions. The journey unfolded as I had eyes to see and ears to hear. I was able to experiment within the protective space of grace. I saw the power for change in a person’s life when they took responsibility for their actions and moving towards the truth. All that learning is a rich basis to now share the journey towards wholeness of Australians, both individuals and in small groups.> Written by Dr John Steward,

John Steward has postgraduate degrees in agriculture and theology and has facilitated small group processes for Christian community development workers from over 50 countries. His two interactive video workshops: ‘Biblical Holism’ and ‘People-centred development’ have been used around the world. Currently John is a consultant in peacebuilding to World Vision in Rwanda, while at home in Melbourne, Australia he practises as a spiritual director and househusband. He is a member of the team of The Living Well centre of Christian spirituality at Holy Trinity church, East Melbourne, a member of the Australian Network for Spiritual Direction, and Wellspring and is part of Life in Today’s village, a ministry through small groups.

This article was first published in Presence, an international journal of spiritual direction, vol 10, no 1, Feb 2004, pages 20-27.