Category Archives: Tribal violence

Frederic, me, and our surprising connection

It was the afternoon of Good Friday, April 15, 2022. Frederic and I were seated in a small home in Reconciliation Village, Nyamata, Rwanda. It was storytelling time. We gathered closely around a small coffee table—with four other villagers, Lillian from Africa New Life, and my colleague Kristin. 

We had just listened to three stories. Two stories were from Hutu men who were part of the 1994 Genocide as perpetrators. One story was from Jacqueline. She was 17 years old when the Genocide occurred. 

Jacqueline had been out in the field tending the family cows. When she returned to her house in Nyamata, she found the Hutu mob had killed her entire Tutsi family of eleven. 

More than 10,000 other Tutsi had fled to the local church property in Nyamata for shelter and safety. They also were brutally murdered—with guns, machetes, clubs, grenades. (We visited this Nyamata Church Genocide Memorial on that Friday morning. Horrifying.)

Jacqueline fled into the forest and survived. 

Frederic’s story

Also sharing their story was Frederic, a Hutu. “I was one of the perpetrators,” he said to us plainly. Frederic was arrested by the new government and imprisoned like thousands of other young Hutu men after the Genocide. (Frederick did not go into any detail about the crimes or atrocities he may have committed.)

While in prison, Frederic heard the preaching of many pastors. “Confess your crimes, and seek forgiveness. God will forgive all your sins.” Many prisoners could not believe it. They were afraid that Tutsi would kill them in revenge—at first while in prison and later upon being released.

Frederic became honest about his crimes of violence. His honesty and humility had been a step toward freedom. Rwanda’s new government had created a policy to reward honest confession; as a result, many were allowed to return to their Rwandan homelands. Frederic went back to his home area.

I asked, “You who were the perpetrators, do you ever look back and think of yourselves as victims?” They said, “Yes, in part, we are also victims. It is because we had bad leadership. Every day, we were told lies about the Tutsi that they were cockroaches, not real humans, that they should die.”  

I wondered aloud, “If I had been in your community with all the propaganda every day about the so-called enemies in your land to attack them and kill them, would I have done differently or done the same as you?” 

After the Genocide, the new Rwandan government welcomed back tens of thousands of Rwandans living in other nations. Thousands came back from Uganda, Congo, and Tanzania—ready to help rebuild their country, Rwanda. But this created a big problem. A massive number of displaced peoples had nowhere to live. 

An idea is born: Village of Reconciliation

The US-based ministry Prison Fellowship, which had an office in Rwanda, funded the development of a “village of reconciliation.” The idea was to bring together both victims and perpetrators in a real-life, living-together kind of reconciliation in the same community. It was an experiment in restorative justice. The experiment has proven successful.

Frederic told us, “Because I had been honest about being a perpetrator, the officials asked me to be one of the village leaders. So I agreed. We constructed the first homes in the village in 2004. Other men and I helped to make the bricks. We worked together building the homes. Here we are 18 years later. Today, we work together in our gardens to provide food for the community. Our children are living and playing together in peace.” 

After the villagers finished their stories, they concluded: “Two things we want you to remember: First, the Genocide in Rwanda happened, even though some say it did not. And second, true reconciliation is possible; we are proof of that.”

Sharing a bit of my story

Sitting right next to Frederic, I thought it would be good for me to tell a bit of my story. I did not want Frederic to believe I was so different from him. 

I said, “My parents were from Germany. The German government drafted my father into Hitler’s army. Near the end of the war, the Allied Forces captured my father, and he became a prisoner of war for four years in Poland. After he was released, my grandfather took his family with three sons, and they all came to America. My grandfather wanted to go far away from the Russians. My German father and mother married in America, so I was born there.”

My colleague Kristin then asked, “Werner, we see here the openness and honesty of this community; is this openness possibly different from how you grew up? Is their honesty touching you in a way that you did not expect?”

Suddenly, a new topic was on the table in front of us. Open, authentic talking about painful, even shameful things—what does this mean for us?

“Wow. Good question, Kristin,” I replied. As I was growing up, I learned about the Holocaust in Germany in World War 2. I asked my parents about it. They did not want to discuss it. They did not want to talk about the horrors of German people being part of the program to kill 6 million innocent Jews.

I asked the group: “You know there have been genocides in other lands, right?” They nodded, yes.

I spoke about the concentration camp Auschwitz. At Auschwitz, the Germans killed 20,000 people a day through gas chambers and burning. Indeed, Rwanda is not the only land with genocide in its history.

I told our little group that I still had questions about my grandfather’s role in Germany’s brutalities in WW2. He was a businessman who sold fuel. He was trying to survive and feed his family. But what if my grandfather sold gasoline to the German army, which helped them do evil? Was my grandfather complicit?

I also said that my father and one uncle suffered from mental illnesses. Was it because they could not talk honestly or openly about the painful, shameful things they suffered?

Any questions for us?

I said to our little group, “We have asked you questions. Do you have any questions for us?”

Frederic said, “I have a question. You shared about your family and grandfather. Do you still have some pains in your heart about what your grandfather may have done? If so, has this time with us been helpful to you?”

Frederic’s question surprised me. I thanked him for his concern about the possible pains in my heart. “Yes, I have been helped. Your honesty and openness are different from how I grew up with family secrets. You are willing to talk about very painful things in a spirit of forgiveness.”

“For many years, I had like a shadow of shame over the questions about my German family and my father’s mental illness. But in recent years, I have been learning that Jesus does not just forgive our guilt. He also covers our shame.” 

Frederic thanked us. He said I was just the second visitor to their village in 18 years who, after hearing the stories of the victims and perpetrators, also openly shared from his heart.

I felt a strange closeness to Frederic. There was comfort in being together with these men and women in the Village of Reconciliation, Nyamata, Rwanda. I think it was how Frederic and others in the room had been so honest. It was an unusual vulnerability. It felt healthy, like fresh air. If reconciliation is possible here, it is possible anywhere.

I waved my hand across the table in front of us. “We are together sharing in our humanity. We all have struggles. We all need the love of God,” I said.  

The Rwandan woman in whose tiny home we had gathered (she has the green sweater in the photo below) gave a closing prayer. She thanked the Lord for our fellowship. She prayed for us and blessed us in the name of Jesus.

Inside a home in the Village of Reconciliation in Nyamata, with victims and perpetrators of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide. Jacqueline, mentioned above as a victim who lost eleven family members, is third from right.
Get an overview of the project here. Support the project here.

Why were we in Rwanda?

We are in Africa on behalf of Mission ONE to conduct research for the Ephesians 2 Gospel Project. Our experiences in Rwanda have been instructive and inspiring.

The Ephesians 2 Gospel Project is about horizontal reconciliation through the cross of Christ. There is a social, horizontal dimension to the gospel of Christ because there is a social, horizontal dimension to the atonement of Christ. The gospel of peace offers reconciliation to groups in conflict (Eph. 2:13–17). 

Rwanda is an important place to learn for the Ephesians 2 Gospel Project for two reasons: 

  1. The 1994 Rwandan genocide by the Hutu against the Tutsi people resulted in 1 million people brutally murdered in 100 days; the church was significantly complicit.
  2. Since 1994, Rwanda has experienced a nationwide movement of reconciliation despite enormous struggles and ongoing trauma. There has been much positive development that would have been impossible without the profound involvement of the church and the reconciling gospel of Jesus Christ.

Final thoughts 

  • On Tuesday, we visited the Kigali Genocide Memorial. It is the final resting place for more than 250,000 victims of the Genocide against the Tutsi. Incredible. Check out the website.
  • Want to support the Ephesians 2 Gospel Project? Donate here.