A couple of days ago I read on the BBC about the funeral of the last British WW1 veteran, who died a fortnight ago, aged 111, and nearly bawled. A part of our history is now gone forever; there are a few others left, but only one who saw action, and none who fought in the trenches. Of course it seems ridiculous to be so upset by the death of a 111-year-old, and even more so to be sad for the passing of a period of history that we should be glad to see the back of. It is unquestionably a Good Thing that we no long send our young men to be slaughtered in their hundreds of thousands over pointless geopolitical disputes.

The sadness, therefore, comes from two things. The first is the feeling that in those terrible times, ordinary people did extra-ordinary things. But more important is the fear that now that the horror of the trenches no longer lives in memory, we may forget it. Of course we won’t really – there is a wealth of testimony, including an autobiography written by Mr Patch when he realised that his would be one of the last voices to tell of the past. And having vivid memories of total war did not stop Europeans going back to war within a generation. But Western Europe in the last sixty years has been one of the world’s great peacebuilding stories; as I write this I am wearing a hat with the European Union logo on it (Dad, if you’ve been looking for it, sorry), and we have managed to refrain from killing one another for the longest period in our history so far.

The memories of our past now serve more to bring us together than to force us back into conflict – again, something that Mr Patch saw as crucial. At his funeral, at his request, his coffin was carried by Belgian, French and German soldiers, a piece of symbolism that again threatened tears. But it was also this that showed the wider relevance; if he was only a survivor, his death would be distressing. But he made it a symbol of unity and reconciliation, showing that out of tragedy, we can find hope and progress.

Gerard Prunier has called the war that still engulfs the great lakes region ‘Africa’s World War’, and I have spent the last two months in a country that must be seen as at least as traumatised as Europe in 1919. There are groups that blame one another and demand revenge, but, unlike in Europe in 1919, they have avoided this temptation. I won’t labour the point by trying to extend the comparison too far, but for me there are two lessons to be drawn. Burundians who have known nothing but war have told me of their longing for peace, and their hopes for what their country can do now that they have it. But Europe’s lessons tell us that that is not enough; it would be harder to find a population more desperate for peace than Europe in 1919, but within 20 years they were back at war. The second is that peace is possible; it took a second attempt in Europe, but eventually we got there.

I shared this story with some of my Burundian friends, and one person gave me a response that was one of the most moving I have heard in this country; the hope that in sixty or eighty years, the last veteran of the Burundian war will be buried, his coffin carried by the descendents of all sides, and the sense that a piece of history has passed. I passed this reaction on to Pierre Claver and Marie Rose, a CNDD-FDD Parliamentarian, and no-one laughed. I think there is a real risk that this country will slide back into war, but the story of Mr Patch’s death reminded me that there is also hope.

One of the first things I noticed when I moved to Burundi was the vast array of NGOs and civil society organisations (CSOs to those in the know!) generally, and I have to admit that I was initially sceptical, fearing the ‘NGO circus’ with all the problems that brings – duplication and omission, failing to consider the real needs of the populations, internal brain drain, and so on. However, having spent longer in the country – albeit still only a fairly short time – my perspective is changing quickly. Meeting some of the dynamic Burundians I work with, and talking about the projects they work on, has brought me to the conclusion that much of Burundian civil society may be that elusive thing – a genuinely grass-roots structure that is doing hugely valuable work in promoting peace and reconciliation at a community level.

I have blogged before about the three organisations with which Survivor Corps works (AFJB, CEDAC, and THARS), their history, and the important work they do. However, as I have learnt more about the development of the conflict and the peace process in Burundi, I have become aware of the truly vital role that these and other organisations played in bringing the country to peace and ensuring that is (cross fingers) sticking (H/T Nigel Watt’s excellent book, about which I have already waxed lyrical). He describes in some detail the many organisations that have grown up at a community level to promote peace, healing, and integration.

The nature of the organisations that have done this work has varied, but perhaps the largest contingent has been religious, with religious groups forming to promote contact between ethnic groups, peer support, microfinance, mutual saving, and so on. Particularly active has been the Society of Friends (Quakers), of which David Niyonzima, the founder of THARS, is a prominent member. Many of these organisations have now broken off from their original founding church, a requirement to be registered as an NGO in Burundi, and allowing them to reach a greater constituency.

The work done by this ‘alphabet soup’ of organisations has included both ‘practical’ action such as building youth centres, providing for orphans, and organising inter-ethnic activities, as well as work also carried out by Survivor Corps’ partners such as providing vocational training, and promoting inter-ethnic income generating activities. However, perhaps even more important is the ‘mental’ aspect; promoting alternatives to violence, promoting reconciliation between ethnic groups, and helping people to discuss a shared future. CSOs, particularly religious organisations, have provided a vital service in this regard, in some cases simply by providing a space for interaction, in others by actively recruiting. Some of the most important have been the independent radio programmes, set up following recognition of the role played by Radio Mille Collines in promoting genocide in Rwanda, which aim to do the opposite, using talk shows, news, and soap operas to help people relate to their fellow Burundians and reject violence, also aiming to report accurate news and counter rumours – which, in the war years, often sparked massacres. In the course of these efforts to promote integration and equal opportunities for all, a number of organisations have also formed to try and promote the position of the Twa, and provide them with access to education and a decent footing in Burundian society for the first time.

All in all it has become clear that civil society in Burundi played an enormous part in bringing peace and is likely to be vital in promoting continuation of that peace and ethnic reconciliation in Burundi – as well as ‘traditional’ NGO motives such as promoting education, public health, and growth.

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.