The first organisation Survivor Corps Burundi works with is the Associations des Femmes Juridiques du Burundi (AFJB). They are an umbrella organisation including many of the countries women’s organisations, and exist to provide support to vulnerable women around the country, ensure that they are able to exercise their legal rights, and lobby for better legal protection of women. When I meet the Programmes Officer, Patricia Ntahorubuze, she talks about the ways in which women can be doubly marginalised; in a general sense of being poor, displaced, or traumatised by war, but in the second place due to the attitudes their families take to them, and the failure to recognise their specific needs.

She talks of the many types of women who are vulnerable; widows, former combatants, former child soldiers, those who have been raped, and girls who are head of their households. These women often struggle to integrate in their communities; if they have been raped, they may face rejection by their families and communities. Similarly, former combatants who are women have violated many strongly-held gender norms, and will struggle to reintegrate for this reason. Unfortunately, these two categories will often overlap; many women who have participated in the war will also have been subjected to gender based violence. Many of the women the AFJB exists to help also have problems relating to property, particularly in the case of widows, who risk being “chased from the house” as their husband’s family tries to claim their property and “manage” the widow – a violation of numerous rights including the rights to property, privacy, and family.

Perhaps the most serious problems however, in that that they combine the two, are faced by women who have had children as a result of rape or who during their time “in the bush” (i.e. with the rebels). In these cases it will often be impossible to identify the father, and even when he can be identified he will often not accept the baby. The mothers of these children often face rejection by their families, while their children will be unable to inherit from their fathers (as would traditionally be the case) or their mothers (as they have been rejected by the family); this is an issue that has arisen in similar terms in Northern Uganda, where it has been studied in some detail by the Justice and Reconciliation project. At a psychological level, the children affected will often suffer from identity crises, and as a result have behavioural problems; these children are also survivors, and will need help if they are to claim their rights and integrate successfully into their communities.

The AFJB is able to help these women in a number of ways; in the first place, echoing The Advocacy Project‘s goal, by simply listening to them and allowing them to tell their story. The importance AFJB places on this demonstrates clearly the importance of disempowerment *as such* in creating problems for these women; when they feel excluded, and not listened to, they are less likely to feel confident enough to claim their rights against substantial social pressures to acquiesce in their marginalisation. Listening therefore constitutes an important first step in AFJB’s work. It does not, however, stop there; as an organisation of lawyers, they are in a strong position to offer practical help to women whose legal rights are being violated, ensuring that they can retain access to their property and any services owed them – this is particularly important given the large number of land claims resulting from the return of tens of thousands of refugees and internally displaced persons. Finally, they are lobbying for changes in the law to better protect women, in particular a proposed law against Gender Based Violence. I will be helping AFJB by profiling some of the survivors they are working with, helping them develop their web presence, and helping them use the profiles and other materials in their campaigns to improve women’s rights in Burundi.

As anyone who has lived in Uganda will know, they take their religion very seriously indeed, with half the shops and businesses having religiously-oriented names – the ‘God is Great Butcher’ or the ‘Jesus Loves You Hair Salon’. After the improvement in the state of the roads, one of the big shocks of crossing the border from Uganda into Rwanda is the immediate disappearance of these names. The reason is even more distressing; the people of Rwanda turned away from religion en masse after the participation of many priests in the genocide.

Burundi lies between the two; religion is there, but not worn on their sleeves. A few shops have somewhat religious titles, but subtle, as, as I have blogged earlier, they seem keener on ‘peace’. The Catholic Church has historically been the dominant force and retains a powerful position, despite a period of repression under Bagaza (Tutsi military dictator number 2 of 3) between 1976 and 1987. However, there is also a fairly large Greek Orthodox community – the Greeks arrived en masse with the Germans, trading across the lake, and stayed through most of the 20^th Century, building a church even bigger than the Catholic Cathedral in the process. Greeks have also played a part in the country’s history; Prince Louis Rwagasore, the first Prime Minister of independent Burundi, was assassinated by a Greek settler in the pay of his political opponents. According to Pierre Claver, a fairly significant Orthodox population remains, a mixture of Greeks who have stayed throughout, and people converted over the years. His confusion at my fascination with the church also reveals how established the community is, and how it is taken for granted in Burundi – and this makes me keen to investigate whether there are similarly large populations elsewhere that I’ve somehow missed.

Orthodox church

As in Rwanda, there have been changes due to the war; the Catholic Church lost ground to various strains of evangelical Protestantism, as the conversion of Pierre Claver’s family shows. Finally, there is a small Muslim community – estimates range between 5% and 13% of the population – and there are some indications that this is growing as a result of the role played by Muslims during the war, when they showed enormous courage in protecting large numbers of Hutus and Tutsis alike. However, unlike Kigali, Bujumbura remains full of churches, and gospel music is popular. Nearly everyone I speak to tells me that things are good ‘thanks to God’, and that they hope for peace ‘with the Grace of God’ or tell me early in conversation that they are a Christian, and asks what denomination I am*.

I think this moderation is one of the things I like about the country; I found Uganda’s evangelical fervour somewhat disconcerting, and generally used to dread the occasions when it was my turn to lead the prayers at work meetings. Similarly, there is something eerie, if understandable, about Rwanda’s empty churches and mass abandonment of faith. Attributing good fortune to God, discussing religion over beers, going to church every now and then, and good-natured inquiries about others’ faith seem much more normal and healthy. It may also have positive benefits; Uganda’s first lady’s enthusiasm for promoting abstinence may be one reason for the start of a rise in HIV infection rates, while Rwanda – and Burundi in the past – showed the way in which a powerful church can become a tool for marginalisation. It may be hoped that this seeming lack of interest in mixing church and state can help Burundi to avoid either pitfall in future.

* Happily I have yet to meet an Anglican, so have yet to be invited to church. It may also be because Europeans are known for being heathens, and they’d rather not know.

I found this article on the BBC a few days ago, about how the narrative of D-Day as a great success often fails to consider the stories of those who suffered as a result of the invasion. The author points out that this should not diminish from the importance of D-Day in defeating tyranny and bringing peace to Europe, but that if we ignore these sobering narratives, we not only deny the people who tell them the right to voice, but we also deny ourselves the right to fully understand our own history; our own story. This is a reminder of the fact that nothing is ever simple, but it also reminded me in many ways of what The Advocacy Project and Survivor Corps are trying to do; no matter how far a groups’ narrative deviates from the national ‘story’, people have a right to a voice, and a right to have their needs and their story taken into consideration. No-one should have to feel guilt for expressing their story and the troubles they have faced, and helping groups whose narratives are in some way marginalised is what we are trying to do.