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Juvenile 'genocidaires' were just 'following orders'
Sunday, September 24, 2000
By Anita Srikameswaran, Post-Gazette Staff Writer with pictures by Martha Rial, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette Staff Photographer
Four years ago, the government in Rwanda decreed that children who were 14 or younger at the time of the 1994 genocide would not be tried for the crimes they may have committed during that time, deciding they were too young to be held responsible for their actions. But authorities couldn't simply release the children into a society already burdened with poverty and few support services. They and the community had to get ready to forgive the young criminals and move on.
That is why Gitagata exists.
Almost 300 young men, ranging in age from 16 to 20, reside at Gitagata, which is a 40-minute car ride from Kigali. They get some vocational training, such as sewing, animal husbandry or carpentry.
About 400 young men already have gone through the reeducation process and rejoined their communities, after an average stay of two years, said center Director Benjamin Rubyutsa. Another 100 should be released by the end of the summer.
He took us to observe a group of 30 young men who had spent hours that morning collecting wild, coarse grasses that they shouldered in ungainly bundles. They filed into the center's farm area and piled them on the ground beneath rows of tall sorghum, a kind of grain, to help hold moisture in the soil.
Our translator, not much older than these young men, watched the silent, unsmiling teen-agers, well-muscled from physical labor. "Imagine," he said quietly. "All these boys have killed."
A young man distinguished by his red cap supervised the workers. Badrov Said, an 18-year-old Hutu, was selected by the administrators to be a leader to the others.
He said he was imprisoned for looting during the genocide. When asked if he harmed or killed anyone, he said no, but added that he saw many die. He conceded that he has been suspected of such crimes.
Badrov cannot or will not say which of the teen-agers around him committed murder. Some were simply following orders when they killed.
"How can you say no?" he asked.
After the genocide, Badrov wound up in a refugee camp in the Congo. He was arrested in 1997, and like many others his age, spent time in a "very bad" prison that also housed adults before his transfer to a children's facility. He had been at Gitagata for 18 months, but couldn't guess when he would rejoin his family.
His mother was killed during the genocide and his father was at home.
The Gitagata residents attend a half-day school with village children. There has been no tension, no ostracism, no questions. Badrov thinks his community will accept him when he returns home.
He said, as many do, that the genocide happened because people followed the instructions the government issued. Rebelling was akin to signing your own death warrant. The children copied their elders, but had no comprehension of what they were doing.
Badrov doesn't think he will do things like that again. He cannot speak for the other young men, who were between 10 and 14 during the slayings, but said that if he were told now to kill, he would say no. In fact, he said, he would fight the killers. His demeanor was serious, without a hint of arrogance or self-pity.
Several yards away, a little boy, head shaved almost bald, watched the teen-agers. There were no other children his age at Gitagata, which had been his home since October.
His case was unusual and disturbing.
Prince, as he was called, was 10 and looked younger. Last year, he saw a 5-year-old neighbor child, a distant relative, walking by. He could not explain what prompted him to grab her and beat her to death, using his hands as weapons. He said he didn't feel anything after she was dead.
"I am evil," Prince whispered, his eyes downcast.
A staff member of the government ministry that oversees Gitagata said the boy once told them he was imitating his father when he killed the girl. But when asked now, Prince denied ever seeing anyone killed. His father is not in prison. His mother died in a refugee camp.
His relatives visit him.
They tell him he made a mistake. He says he will never do it again.
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Staff at the Gitagata Re-education Center feel that 18-year-old Badrov Said's maturity makes him a good choice to supervise other center residents. The young men are spreading grass around their crops to help hold moisture in the soil. Click to Photo Journal