Death and Mercy in Rwanda

In an essay for the New Oxford Review , contributor M. P. Summers offers reflections on his travels in Sudan and Rwanda. It’s a personal narrative, but is also—have no fear—far better than a typical travelogue or indulgent tale of personal discovery. Summers seeks to elucidate part of the mindset of what he terms this “continent of contradictions,” and his reflections are especially pertinent to those thinking about the future of Christianity in the much-heralded “global south.”

His essay should also give pause to those in the field of human development who believe the most effective way to end hatred, war, and poverty is through exclusively secular means (or even by disabusing the natives of their faith). As he recounts a conversation with a Rwandan army lieutenant, the man asks:

When we regained control, did we avenge ourselves against our oppressors? Did we retaliate against our neighbors? No,  love  enveloped the country. A love and forgiveness that, I like to think, only a heavenly Mother could instill in her children. All this happened without the intervention of the great superpowers and developed countries. The United Nations did nothing. They have been very vocal after the fact, but when men were killing their neighbors, they locked themselves in their camps.

. . .

“Indifference has been erased in Rwanda. When it was all said and done, there could be no indifference. It was too personal. Just as our brutality was personal, our recovery was personal.

Men asked for forgiveness face-to-face. We deal with our countrymen who committed the atrocities on a village level. If a man killed his neighbor, he goes to the family and asks for forgiveness. The village council will decide a penance; usually the man will work as a laborer for that family for a prescribed period of time. Once the penance is complete, the man is free. In this way, he can see the consequences of his crime by interacting with the family, and the family can see their former oppressor in a state of humility.