In January 2012, several years after we first met the courageous women and man featured in “The Men Who Killed Me: Rwandan Survivors of Sexual Violence (Douglas & McIntyre, 2009)”, edited by the authors of this post, we re-interviewed fifteen of those survivors of sexual violence to learn how their lives had unfolded since the book’s publication.[1]  The fascinating turns in their lives will be depicted in a new book we are presently working on, describing how they have come to deal with the trauma of sexual violence and other atrocities in Rwanda’s post-genocide society.  Some of the questions we asked the fifteen survivors in January pertained to the workings of the gacaca courts: how did they view these courts, and what was their personal experience before them?  All survivors had either participated in gacaca in order to learn more about the fate of their loved ones or the whereabouts of their stolen property, or had testified in gacaca against men who had raped them or individuals accused of having murdered their loved ones.  When we first interviewed the survivors in 2008, we observed a tendency towards scepticism about gacaca and its potential to achieve justice and reconciliation for themselves and for Rwandans more broadly.  Over three years later, and with gacaca proceedings coming to an end on 18 June 2012,[2] we sought to uncover whether this sentiment had changed.

Gacaca and prosecutions for crimes of sexual violence

Although space doesn’t permit us to delve into the specificities of gacaca in this post,[3] it suffices to mention here that these courts were established to deal with the many cases involving individuals suspected of crimes during the Rwandan genocide.  In the 100 days of genocide that ravaged Rwanda from April to July 1994, an estimated 1 million Tutsi and moderate Hutu were killed, and 250,000 to 500,000 girls and women – mostly Tutsi – as well as boys and men, were raped by Hutu extremists.[4]  Many people were tortured and mutilated during the genocide, and their possessions looted or destroyed.  For Rwanda’s ordinary courts to deal with all cases arising from the genocide would have taken the government more than 100 years.  Expediting the trials of alleged genocidaires was one of the motivations for setting up the gacaca, traditional Rwandan courts in which the community historically came together to deal with family or neighbourly disputes, and which were adapted as a mix of both customary law and classical penal state justice to deal with cases of genocide.[5]  Other aims of gacaca were to: (1) uncover the truth of what happened during the genocide; (2) address a culture of impunity by prosecuting the genocide’s perpetrators; (3) reconcile Rwandans and support their unity; and (4) prove that Rwandans had the capacity to settle their own problems through a system of justice based on Rwandan custom.[6]  The gacaca courts involved the whole community; everyone from a certain community during the genocide was eligible to be present and to participate during proceedings in which alleged genocidaires of that community were tried.  This meant that everyone was a lawyer, witness and prosecutor at the same time.  With most of Rwanda’s lawyers having been killed during the genocide, gacaca judges were lay people of integrity appointed from the local community (in Kinyarwanda referred to as Inyangamugayo), a common occurrence pre-genocide when only about 5% of judges had formal legal training.[7]  Confessions, guilty pleas, repentance and apology played an important role in gacaca proceedings and could lead to community service[8] and significant reductions in the length of a sentence when done appropriately.  This required the genocide’s perpetrators to provide a detailed description of their crime, including where it was committed, who was victimized and – if there were any – where corpses were discarded, as well as revealing co-perpetrators and publicly apologizing to survivors and to Rwandan society.  This form of gacaca was launched in 2001 and the bulk of cases before the more than 12,000 gacaca courts, involving over 1.9 million genocidaires, were adjudicated between 2005 and 2011.[9]

In Rwanda, rape and sexual torture were labelled ‘category one’ crimes, or among the most serious crimes committed during the genocide, whose accused would automatically receive, if convicted – together with the other ‘category one’ criminals, namely the organizers and leaders of the genocide – a sentence of life imprisonment.[10]  While some cases of sexual violence were tried before ordinary courts prior to 2008,[11] about 7,000 cases were tried between mid-2008 and mid-2009 by 17,000 Inyangamugayo in 1,900 gacaca courts.[12]  Being among the most serious of crimes, cases involving sexual violence were initially intended to be dealt with by ordinary courts rather than the gacaca.  However, in a bid to expedite the remaining trials and to provide justice long overdue for survivors of sexual violence (many of whom were very ill) together with resource constraints, an amendment to the genocide law in 2008 provided for the transfer of these cases from ordinary courts to gacaca.[13]  The amendment also incorporated several procedural rules that were meant to protect survivors of sexual violence and their families.  Among these was the rule that victims of sexual violence could only testify against their rapist in closed session and perpetrators of sexual violence could only confess and plead guilty in a closed session, meaning only in front of judges and not before the general public as was the rule before gacaca proceedings.  In case of a breach of confidentiality of the trial by an Inyangamugayo, the offending judge could be subject to removal from the bench and a prison sentence of up to three years.  During a closed session, trauma counsellors were allowed to support survivors.  Because cases involving sexual violence were among the most difficult cases for judges to try and potentially traumatizing for the victims involved, it was decided in early 2008 that the Inyangamugayo were to receive training – with legal and psychological components – about how to deal with cases of rape and sexual torture.[14]  After the closure of gacaca, new claims can only be lodged by a victim of sexual violence (or another concerned party where the victim is dead or incapable) in order to protect the survivor from further stigmatisation by family and community members.  Previously, accusations were sometimes lodged maliciously by others in order to expose and further stigmatise a victim.[15]

Survivors’ views on gacaca

So, almost 18 years after the genocide, how do the fifteen survivors featured in “The Men Who Killed Me” feel about gacaca?  Significantly, most of the survivors featured in the book were not among the claimants involved in the 7,000 cases of sexual violence dealt with between 2008 and 2009 in gacaca.  The reasons for this vary.  A few survivors’ cases had been dealt with before 2008.  Several survivors did not know who had raped them, including survivors of rape perpetrated by French soldiers stationed in southern Rwanda.  Many perpetrators had died or escaped the country by the time the gacaca proceedings began.  Victims of sexual violence had also passed away (some from an AIDS-related illness or other rape-related trauma, as well as from other experiences in the genocide, as was the case for Françoise and Immaculée, both featured in our book).  And some survivors simply chose not to participate because they felt it would be too difficult to testify and were concerned that community members would find out they had been raped, even with special procedures for cases involving sexual violence in place.  For many of these reasons, only a small proportion of cases involving sexual violence have made it to trial,[16] compared to the estimated number of women and men who survived sexual violence during the genocide.[17]

Of the seventeen persons featured in “The Men Who Killed Me”, only two women testified against (some of) their rapists between 2008 and 2009 in gacaca in closed session and their experiences varied. For one woman, the gacaca proceedings, while not easy, allowed her to “free her heart” by speaking about what had happened to her.  Participating and testifying in gacaca also brought her a sense of justice and reconciliation: she felt that the gacaca procedure had been effective, that the men who raped her were given the right sentence – life imprisonment – and that she was now able to reconcile with her attackers.  For another woman, gacaca gave her a sense of justice because it brought her respect: people accepted her testimony and the perpetrators were given life imprisonment.  But she did not reconcile with the men who raped her, in part because they had infected her with HIV.  She was also unsatisfied with the procedure in gacaca.  Although she had testified in closed session, she noted that people from the community were able to listen and make disparaging remarks to her from the courtroom windows, which the entire panel of Hutu judges did nothing to address.  In spite of this potential for stigma and isolation, a number of survivors told us that had the individuals who raped them been identifiable, alive or in Rwanda, they would have wanted to testify against them in court.  What was also apparent from our interviews with the survivors was that irrespective of whether they had testified about their own experiences of sexual violence, they had participated in and testified about other crimes, so were able to evaluate gacaca from this perspective.

Participation and testifying in gacaca was traumatizing, healing and empowering

Overall, all survivors felt that recounting and reliving what had happened to them or hearing what had happened to their loved ones in gacaca was very traumatizing.  Many broke down in the process, but – when testifying – continued speaking after judges gave them time to regain their composure.  In spite of how difficult it was to participate and testify in gacaca, many also felt that doing so had unburdened their hearts, healed and empowered them.

But for one person, all survivors said that they felt that participating and testifying in gacaca had been very important to them, for a diversity of reasons: some felt that it was an opportunity for the truth to be uncovered, including learning how their families were murdered and where their remains lay; some felt it brought them emotional relief and enabled them to forgive; some felt a sense of recognition for the harms they experienced because they had an audience before gacaca; one survivor felt that some perpetrators sincerely apologized and asked for forgiveness; some learned that the genocide’s perpetrators also had the capacity to help Tutsi survive during the genocide and that there were Hutu who testified against fellow Hutu who had committed crimes during the genocide; some felt they were able to better understand why fellow Rwandans committed the crimes they did during the genocide; some were relieved to see perpetrators sentenced; and several felt they were able to face perpetrators and to live together with them again.

Most survivors felt that participating and testifying in gacaca provided them – and Rwandans generally – justice and reconciliation.  Their understanding of these terms varied from being able to judge and punish the genocide’s perpetrators and exposing “the truth” (justice) to “coming together again”, and being asked for forgiveness by, and forgiving, those who had harmed them (reconciliation).  Survivors told us that they felt that the gacaca proceedings were conducted in a fair way overall and that it had reconciled Rwandans so they were able to live together again.  Before gacaca was introduced, the survivors said that Hutu and Tutsi could not even greet each other on the streets without feelings of anger, but now they could greet one another again, come to each other’s rescue in times of need, attend the same meetings and even intermarry.  Notably, several survivors mentioned that, initially, they did not feel safe testifying in gacaca, but over time and with better security put in place by Rwandan authorities, most could return to their old homes without being afraid of the former genocidaires who still live there.[18]

What struck us as most remarkable was the survivors’ ability to forgive.  Most survivors told us that they had forgiven those who had attacked them and their families, some even when perpetrators had not admitted their crimes or asked for forgiveness.  As one woman told us: “Those that killed our people can never bring them back to life.  For us to have a relationship with them is to forgive them.  I have to forgive them, because they cannot bring back our people.”  And another: “I just forgave them, so that I would feel relief in my heart, because there is nothing else I can do.”  One person said she had forgiven the unknown perpetrators who had attacked her and her family because the crimes they committed were spurred by policies implemented by the regime at the time.  For many, forgiving those who harmed them was the first step to enable them to continue with their lives.

Overall evaluation of gacaca is positive

Although the survivors were very sceptical about gacaca in the early years of its existence, today most feel that gacaca worked well and fulfilled its objectives by helping to expose the genocide, speeding up the case load, holding perpetrators accountable and achieving reconciliation.  Many commended the government for having put this mechanism in place, saying there was no better initiative than gacaca.

Nevertheless, the survivors pointed out a number of gacaca’s flaws.  They were disturbed by the absence of compensation: many did not receive any compensation for their losses during the genocide, in most cases because the perpetrators are poor.  At the same time, some survivors said that, despite their poverty, they were not overly concerned with the issue of compensation because it could never bring their families back.  Some survivors were dissatisfied with the judges, who they felt were not properly trained in the law, biased and susceptible to bribery.  Some felt the sentences handed to the perpetrators did not reflect the gravity of the crimes they had committed.  Others mentioned the reluctance of the perpetrators to admit what they had done, to sincerely apologize for their crimes, and to tell the survivors where to find the remains of their family members.[19]  Despite these concerns, the survivors were generally positive about gacaca – a view, they recognised, had drastically changed over time.

Does more need to be done for survivors of sexual violence?

Justice and reconciliation after the horrors of genocide may strike some as impossible, particularly in Rwanda where all Rwandans were involved, affected and traumatized in one way or another.  Post-genocide, survivors of sexual violence had to deal with many pressing needs (shelter, food, caring for their children), and for most, ensuring genocidaires were held accountable was not a priority.  When the government eventually instituted legal procedures against genocidaires, it became clear that justice and accountability in the form of gacaca, ordinary courts or even the UN Rwanda Tribunal in Arusha, were not within the reach of most victims of sexual violence.  Many victims had died, many alleged genocidaires had died or escaped, and some survivors simply did not know the identity of those who had harmed them.  Moreover, the unprecedented decision to treat crimes of sexual violence as ‘category one’ crimes automatically meant life imprisonment.  As a survivor of sexual violence with firsthand experience in gacaca – both as a victim testifying against those who had raped her and as a judge presiding over cases of sexual violence – told us, the designation of sexual violence as a ‘category one’ crime, coupled with the shame of being labelled a rapist in Rwanda, likely had the counterproductive effect of deterring many perpetrators from confessing to these crimes.  However, when we asked survivors whether there was any other initiative that could have provided them with a greater sense of justice and reconciliation than gacaca, they said no.

Obviously, there is not a singular road to justice and reconciliation in a country after genocide.  While gacaca certainly made a contribution to this process, other initiatives must go hand in hand with it. [20]  The survivors featured in “The Men Who Killed Me” described, for example, other initiatives implemented by the government to support genocide survivors (e.g., the construction of houses by perpetrators for survivors, the provision of one cow per family and free HIV treatment – the latter two initiatives having been implemented for all poor people, not merely survivors), as well as the psychological support they receive from other survivors and the material, psychological and socio-economic support they receive through NGOs.[21]  These initiatives have enabled them to rebuild some aspects of their lives and it is our impression that the growth in their material status and their mental well-being also contributed to their increasingly positive evaluation of justice and reconciliation processes such as gacaca.

Correspondingly, having been able to share their experiences of the genocide in “The Men Who Killed Me” was very empowering.  They felt it enabled them to relieve their hearts, to have their experiences and their suffering during the genocide recognized, and to urge others to act to prevent these crimes from ever happening again.  The proceeds and sponsorships that arose from the book also improved their quality of life.  The survivors were proud to learn that their stories had been read all over the world and that their stories had taken on new creative forms, including as a theatre production based on their testimonials (in Halifax, Canada), as a component of a university course involving letter-writing (in Winnipeg, Canada) and as a Gregorian chant honouring female victims of violence (in Nijmegen, the Netherlands).[22]  They felt these were all important ways to provide a platform for the stories of survivors of sexual violence in Rwanda and other conflicts worldwide.

Many positive developments for women generally have been implemented in the years following the genocide, such as the right to own land and property and an inheritance law that mandates the equal division of a man’s property between his wife and children.[23]  Nevertheless, even 18 years after the genocide, more needs to be done for survivors of sexual violence.  Two survivors featured in “The Men Who Killed Me” passed away in 2010 from poor health, largely related to the trauma they experienced during the genocide.  There needs to be better access to health care, counselling and other treatment for all survivors of sexual violence, including better access to a wider range of HIV treatment that addresses the individual needs of people living with HIV, nutritious food to maintain their health, counselling for mothers and children when the children are born from rape, and counselling and therapy for post-traumatic stress.  Survivors’ underlying trauma necessitates their need for ongoing care, including home-based care.  Women’s right to inherit family property should also be better enforced – a right that is often violated when women, particularly those living with HIV, are ejected with their children from their homes by their in-laws when their spouses pass away.[24]  All children in Rwanda, especially orphans and other vulnerable children, also need greater support.  This was a concern expressed by many survivors we spoke to, who are caring for their children and orphaned family members, not always able to afford those children’s education fees and materials, and usually receive no support for this additional burden.[25]  Income-generating activities and stable housing are also crucial and continue to be inadequate for many survivors.  Moreover, the importance of symbolic gestures should not be under-estimated in ensuring crimes of sexual violence are not forgotten.  For example, a monument or museum could be erected in Rwanda where one could honour survivors of sexual violence permanently and regularly, in a location that is easily accessible to survivors.  Although there are already some efforts to memorialize sexual violence during the Rwandan genocide, including at the Nyamata Memorial Site, where Annonciata Mukandoli, a victim of sexual violence, is buried, and at the Gisozi Memorial Centre (where descriptive banners are displayed) and the Ntarama Memorial Site (where a stick commonly used during the genocide to rape women is displayed), there are no sites specifically dedicated to victims of sexual violence.  Existing memorial centres, history books[26] and other mediums, such as movies and documentaries,[27] should also memorialize the complexities and scale of sexual violence during the Rwandan genocide, as laid bare in “The Men Who Killed Me”.  Moreover, such initiatives should not be restricted to Rwanda’s borders.  Preventing crimes of sexual violence is a shared responsibility that begins by raising awareness of those crimes and their impact, addressing stigma and discrimination against its victims (which include both women and men) and studying the seeds of sexual violence and other crimes in conflict.  Whatever remains to be done, however, it is clear that survivors of sexual violence should have meaningful input on what and how measures should be implemented.


* This article was first published on the IntLawGrrls website in three parts (on April 7th, 8th, and 9th) without footnotes (see http://www.intlawgrrls.com).

[1] See ‘Reconnecting with the survivors’ at The Men Who Killed Me website at:  http://www.menwhokilledme.com/news/reconnecting-with-survivors-featured-in-%e2%80%9cthe-men-who-killed-me%e2%80%9d (last accessed on 20 March 2012).

[2] The official closing ceremony for the gacaca courts is on 18 June 2012.  See Hirondelle News Agency, Gacaca Closure Postponed to June 18, 20 March 2012, available at: http://www.hirondellenews.com/ictr-rwanda/30202-200312-rwandagacaca-gacaca-closure-postponed-to-june-18 (last accessed on 20 March 2012).

[3] For more information please visit the site on gacaca at: http://www.inkiko-gacaca.gov.rw/index_.html (last accessed on 20 March 2012).

[4] UN Commission on Human Rights, Report on the Situation of Human Rights in Rwanda Submitted by Mr René Degni-Ségui Special Rapporteur of the Commission on Human Rights, under Paragraph 20 of Resolution

S-3/1 of 25 May 1994, E/CN.4/1996/68, 29 January 1996, para. 16.

[5] To read more on this, see Roelof Haveman, Gacaca in Rwanda: Customary Law in Case of Genocide, in: J. Fenrich, P. Galizzi and T. Higgins (eds.), The Future of Customary Laws in Africa, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011.

[6] See, e.g., the Preamble of the Organic Law No 40/2000 of 26/01/2001 setting up “Gacaca Jurisdictions” and organizing prosecutions for offences constituting the crime of genocide or crimes against humanity committed between October 1, 1990 and December 31, 1994 (hereafter referred to as “gacaca law”), and as amended several times thereafter (in 2001, 2004, 2006, 2007 and 2008) to adapt to new and changing realities and difficulties during trial. See also the website on gacaca cited above.

[7] Usta Kaitesi and Roelof Haveman, Prosecution of Genocidal Rape and Sexual Torture before the Gacaca Tribunals in Rwanda, in: Rianne Letschert et al., Victimological Approaches to International Crimes: Africa, Cambridge/Antwerp/Portland: Intersentia, 2011, p. 394.

[8] Community service could replace up to half the prison sentence for those perpetrators of genocide who voluntarily confessed to their actions, intended to be an opportunity for perpetrators to, for example, provide practical assistance to victims and their families, thus encouraging reconciliation and peaceful cohabitation.

[9] See The Rwanda Focus, Gacaca Courts to Close by Next June, available at: http://focus.rw/wp/2012/03/gacaca-courts-to-close-by-next-june/ (last accessed on 22 March 2012).

[10] Although a confession, guilty plea, repentance and apology may lead to a substantial reduction of one’s sentence, persons accused of ‘category one’ crimes can only benefit from such a reduction if they confessed before the list of offenders was compiled at the end of the gacaca information gathering phase.  In addition, persons convicted of crimes of sexual violence do not benefit from community service as alternative sentences and they lose all their civic rights for life (including the right to vote, the right to engage in public or military service, and the right to be a teacher or work in the medical profession).

[11] Estimates of cases involving sexual violence prosecuted before the ordinary courts vary between less than 100 to less than 1000.  See Emily Amick, Trying International Crimes on Local Lawns: The Adjudication of Genocide Sexual Violence Crimes in Rwanda’s Gacaca Courts, Columbia Journal of Gender and Law 20:2, 2011, p. 45.  It should be noted that in 2004, the gacaca law was amended to address problems encountered with cases involving sexual violence in the gacaca information gathering phase.  During this phase, information about rape and sexual torture was revealed in public by survivors and perpetrators alike, and this further stigmatized many victims of sexual violence, if they dared to speak out in public at all.  The 2004 gacaca law was intended to address this issue by introducing closed sessions for hearing these crimes and by allowing anybody with information on sexual violence to report this to an Inyangamugayo, who in turn would report the case to the public prosecution authority for further investigation and prosecution in the ordinary court.

[12] Usta Kaitesi and Roelof Haveman, Prosecution of Genocidal Rape and Sexual Torture before the Gacaca Tribunals in Rwanda, in: Rianne Letschert et al., Victimological Approaches to International Crimes: Africa, Cambridge/Antwerp/Portland: Intersentia, 2011, p. 385.

[13] See Usta Kaitesi and Roelof Haveman, Prosecution of Genocidal Rape and Sexual Torture before the Gacaca Tribunals in Rwanda, in: Rianne Letschert et al., Victimological Approaches to International Crimes: Africa, Cambridge/Antwerp/Portland: Intersentia, 2011, pp. 385-409, to read more about the prosecution of sexual violence before gacaca in Rwanda. See also: Emily Amick, Trying International Crimes on Local Lawns: The Adjudication of Genocide Sexual Violence Crimes in Rwanda’s Gacaca Courts, Columbia Journal of Gender and Law 20:2, 2011, pp. 1-99. The shift from ordinary courts to gacaca courts was met with criticism, including by survivors of sexual violence, see Human Rights Watch, Justice Compromised: The Legacy of Rwanda’s Community Based Gacaca Courts, 2011.

[14] See Usta Kaitesi and Roelof Haveman, Prosecution of Genocidal Rape and Sexual Torture before the Gacaca Tribunals in Rwanda, in: Rianne Letschert et al., Victimological Approaches to International Crimes: Africa, Cambridge/Antwerp/Portland: Intersentia, 2011, pp. 385-409.

[15] Ibid., pp. 396-398.

[16] Emily Amick argues that women’s access to justice was inhibited because of legal and procedural features of gacaca: cases involving sexual violence should have been adjudicated before gacaca, with all the special procedures for survivors of sexual violence in place, from the courts’ inception, rather than at the end of the gacaca era when it became clear that ordinary courts were not capable of dealing with all the ‘category one’ cases.  Nevertheless, many survivors would not have been able to participate in the trials even then.  The important and unprecedented decision to designate crimes of sexual violence as among the most severe crimes deserving special attention by ordinary courts ultimately delayed justice for survivors of sexual violence, given the speed (or lack of it) at which the ordinary courts were operating,.

[17] The number of people who survived sexual violence during the genocide is unknown, but there are an estimated 300,000-400,000 survivors of the genocide, with the majority being female.  See, e.g., Survivors Fund (SURF): http://survivors-fund.org.uk/resources/rwandan-history/statistics (last accessed on 20 March 2012).  It has also been held that “almost all females who survived the genocide were direct victims of rape or other sexual violence, or were profoundly affected by it”.  See Organization of African Unity (OAU), International Panel of Eminent Personalities Report, Rwanda: The Preventable Genocide (2000), para. 16.20.

[18] In 2006, Karen Brounéus interviewed 16 Rwandan women who testified in gacaca, for whom testifying in gacaca resulted in psychological and security problems (e.g. intimidation, threats).  See Karen Brounéus, “Truth-telling as Talking Cure? Insecurity and Retraumatization in the Rwandan Gacaca Courts”, Security Dialogue 39:1, 2008, p. 55-76.  Although this was also the case with all the survivors profiled in “The Men Who Killed Me”, they told us in 2012 that the security issue had been largely resolved by the end of 2008 and that they had generally felt safe since.

[19] For more discussion on the flaws and achievements of gacaca, see: Phil Clark, The Gacaca Courts, Post-Genocide Justice and Reconciliation in Rwanda: Justice without Lawyers, Cambridge Studies in Law and Society, 2010.  For an overview of the criticism on gacaca and the literature on this topic, see Felix Ndahinda and Alphonse Muleefu, Revisiting the Legal, Socio-Political Foundations and (Western) Criticisms of Gacaca Courts, in: Tom Bennett, Eva Brems, Giselle Corradi, Lia Nijzing and Martien Schotsmans (eds.), African Perspectives on Tradition and Justice, Intersentia, 2012 (forthcoming).

[20] For example, the “Rwanda Reconciliation Barometer” provides interesting insights into the state of unity and reconciliation in Rwanda more generally.  In 2010, this research concluded that the country’s unity and reconciliation program had achieved 70% of its objectives, having assessed Rwanda’s political culture, human security, citizenship and identity, understanding of the past, transitional justice and social cohesion.  Areas that required more attention included genocide survivors’ access to land, housing and compensation, Rwandans’ alienation from decision-making and impiedments to equal sharing of government resources and assets. See Republic of Rwanda, Rwanda Reconciliation Barometer, October 2010 (available at: http://www.nurc.gov.rw/fileadmin/templates/Documents/RWANDA_RECONCILIATION_BAROMETER.pdf (last accessed on 20 March 2012).  According to the executive secretary of the National Unity and Reconciliation Commission (NURC), the commission has recently made progress in its activities, mainly through intensive mobilization and grassroots partnerships with citizens in peace-building and solving social conflicts. See Rwanda Focus, Good Progress in Unity and Reconciliation, NURC reports, 5 March 2012 (available at: http://allafrica.com/stories/201203051428.html (last accessed on 20 March 2012).

[21] There are a number of NGOs active in and outside Rwanda supporting survivors of the genocide, including survivors of sexual violence.  The individuals featured in “The Men Who Killed Me” are all beneficiaries of a Rwandan survivor-run organisation, Solace Ministries (http://www.solacem.org).

[23] For several positive developments for women in Rwanda generally, see The Guardian, Rwanda: A Revolution in Rights for Women, 28 May 2010 (available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/may/28/womens-rights-rwanda (last accessed on 20 March 2012).

[24] The New Times (by Faith Mbabazi and Maria Kaitesi), Women with HIV Denied Right to Inherit, 17 March 2012 (available at: http://www.newtimes.co.rw/news/index.php?i=14934&a=51457 (last accessed on 20 March 2012)).

[25] United Nations General Assembly Special Session (UNGASS) on HIV/AIDS, Country Progress Report Republic of Rwanda, Reporting Period: January 2006 – December 2007, Submission Date: January 2008.

[26] Rwanda is still struggling with how to teach the genocide in schools and universities because of the complexity of the genocide’s underpinnings and the possibility of fomenting tension between Rwandans.  See Hirondelle News Agency, Rwandan Scholars Caution Teaching of Genocide History in School, 23 April 2010 (available at: http://www.hirondellenews.com/ictr-rwanda/412-rwanda-political-and-social-issues/24175-en-en-230410-rwandagenocide-rwandan-scholars-caution-teaching-of-genocide-history-in-schools1322613226 (last accessed on 20 March 2012)).  See also: National Commission for the Fight Against Genocide (CNLG), Consultative Meetings on Teaching Genocide History in Rwandan Schools, 6 December 2011 (available at: http://www.cnlg.gov.rw/news/11/12/06/consultative-meetings-teaching-genocide-history-rwandan-schools (last accessed on 20 March 2012)).

[27] Many movies depicting the Rwandan genocide do not address the sexual violence committed during the genocide.  Two notable exceptions are “100 days” (2001) and “A Sunday in Kigali” (2006) – the latter based on a book by Gil Courtemanche.  “Intended Consequences” (2008) is an excellent documentary by Jonathan Torgovnik which focuses on sexual violence committed against women in Rwanda and the children born as a result: http://mediastorm.com/publication/intended-consequences (last accessed on 20 March 2012).