CAPE TO CAIRO - 12

If there is any truth to the Rwandan saying that "rain and visitors bring good luck", then the session of the 'gacaca' court in Rwimbogo, a suburb of the Rwandan capital Kigali, got off to an auspicious start. Shortly before the court went into session at 11 a.m., a downpour sent the judge, jurors, witnesses and a defendant scurrying for cover in the smallest room of the school (right), which had been specially converted into a court house that very morning.

Wheels of justice turn slowly in Arusha
In the local language, 'gacaca' means 'grass roots initiative'. It is a form of community justice with which Rwanda is trying to come to terms with its brutal past. In April 1994, gangs of Hutu extremists slaughtered eight hundred thousand Tutsis and moderate Hutus. Some ten years later, hundreds of thousands of suspects are still being held in Rwanda's overcrowded prisons. Most of them have never been charged and thousands have become infected with the AIDS virus -- a death sentence before having ever having seen a judge. At the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda in Arusha the wheels of justice turn slowly; only a dozen sentences have been passed to date.

"...penalties under 'gacaca' not as harsh"
This is why Rwanda is resorting to traditional means of dispensing justice. Village courts under the supervision of community leaders hear from victims, defendants and witnesses and then reach a verdict after extensive debate. Berkas Karekezi, a 'gacaca' judge in Rwimbogo says 'gacaca' has always existed. The only difference now is that the procedure has been written down. "Look at the Tutsis and Hutus sitting here together in a co-operative, productive manner. That hasn't happened since 1994", he says. The advantage of 'gacaca' is that people who have spent years in prison finally get a trial. "The culprits also benefit - penalties under 'gacaca' are not as harsh as they are under the official legal system".

Judges like Karekezi receive just a short period of training for their responsible job. Unfortunately, in a country where illiteracy is widespread, it can be difficult to find suitable candidates. A common phrase in Rwanda these days is "he is as educated as a 'gacaca' judge" !

Court mood does not turn nasty
The rain has stopped. In the dock is a man who is accused of murdering his employer, a Tutsi. Witnesses claim to have seen the slightly-built man burying corpses in a mass grave. He peers around at the proceedings anxiously. He protests his innocence, saying he did indeed steal possessions belonging to the dead man, but had nothing to do with the murder. A murmur rises in the assembled crowd of some sixty people. One woman shakes her head. During the cross-questioning, the accused entangles himself in lies, but although it is clear he is not telling the truth the mood in the court does not turn nasty. The judges laugh at his fictions, and even the alleged murder himself smiles.

Hope that 'gacaca' will bring justice
I am introduced to Samuel Muwyaneza. A man with bloodshot eyes, he tells me he has come here to see "how we are dealing with our history". He has a personal interest in the work of the court. During the genocide, he lost his mother, three brothers and all nine of his children.

Samuel knows some of the culprits. They live in the neighbourhood. He hopes that 'gacaca' will bring those responsible - ten years after their crimes - to justice. Like many Rwandans, he does not have much confidence in the International Criminal Tribunal in Arusha. "They are as slow as snails, with so few verdicts in all these years. We'd prefer to see the accused tried here in Rwanda, not in Tanzania. As relatives, we are particularly angry that the international court won't pay us any compensation."

Children already practicing reconciliation
The court adjourns at 1 p.m. and as witnesses, spectators, judge and jurors scatter off in different directions, the accused is taken back to prison in Kigali. Not far away from the makeshift court house, another form of national reconciliation is happening quite naturally. Children are playing the Rwandan version of "brennball", tiny Tutsis and Hutus hand each other the baton as if they had never done anything else. Denise (left) is 15. In a quiet voice, she tells me how the Hutus knocked on her mother's door back in April 1994. By a miracle she escaped -- just metres away from her house marauding gangs had chopped people to death and hurled their remains into a well.

"...prepared to forgive culprits if they show remorse"
It is time to leave Denise; to leave Rwanda. I fly back to Uganda this evening. This was a weekend that left me full of hope for this small densely-populated country in which victims and culprits are forced to live in close proximity,

After the 'gacaca' court had dispersed, Samuel took me to one side. "I am prepared to forgive the culprits if they show remorse. Hutus and Tutsis are now intermarrying again and how could I not forgive my brother or sister-in-law? We have to learn to live together."

Kigali, 15th December 2003.