An indisputable impact

Fiona Buffini mentored partner organization YWCA as part of MRG’s Street Theatre Project in Rwanda. The programme uses performance to challenge commonly held racist attitudes and negative stereotypes about minorities and indigenous peoples. These are some of the testimonies from the people who took part in the performances.

Discrimination against Batwa people in Rwanda runs deep.

‘As historically marginalized communities, sometimes we feel loneliness and as if we are isolated somehow from the rest of the population, we feel there is no future, other community members do not even accept to interact with us.’

The Street Theatre project aimed to tackle these problems head on. In the aftermath of the performances, the indisputable impact of the project can be felt by both the actors from the majority communities and the Batwa communities. For the actors from the majority communities, it gave a deeper understanding of some of the issues faced by the Batwa, and for the Batwa actors themselves, the impact of the project is clear.

‘This project, when it came, we were quite reluctant, but we said, ‘OK, let’s just go there.’

This spontaneous decision has, in the end, left the actors feeling ‘lucky somehow, we see that people are reaching out to us. And myself, personally, I feel that I am valued somehow, and I feel also that I am ready to contribute to the social wellbeing of other people.’

With a diverse group of actors ranging from famous Rwandan actors to members of the Batwa community, working together was a real novelty.

‘We were also suspicious about the others [actors] in the beginning, but in time saw them – they were very open, really friendly.’

Following the project the actors “really feel free to interact with people” and feel the project has given them “a step forward” as well as useful skills for the future.

‘I have even gained enough self-confidence to feel I can be a good actor.’

The message from the performances is hoped ‘to bring about change in the way people think about our people. Our worries, our preoccupations have been heard and they are somehow given a room for expression.’ The projects are ‘channelling our voice,’ and ‘speaking on our behalf in such a way that even the authorities will come to handle some of the issues that we have. [We feel] that our problems have been pointed out this time.’

Spotlight on minorities

Claire Thomas, MRG’s Deputy Director, visits Rwanda as part of her work with our Street Theatre programme

If a tin roof has enough holes in it and the sun is at the right angle, the light pours through the holes exactly like a spotlight. This particular spotlight frames circles of muddy floor and mattresses that sleep 8 in a hut so small that I can’t imagine how they all manage to lie down at the same time. The sunny spotlight makes for a striking image that sticks in my memory, but as it has rained quite a lot here in Rwanda recently, it also makes for a lot of lost sleep, wet blankets and a very muddy floor inside the hut.

Members of a Batwa community in Rwanda, 2010. Photo: Dave Hampson

The spotlight image strikes me particularly as I am here in Rwanda to work on an MRG project that will use street theatre performances to challenge discrimination against Rwanda’s poorest and most marginalised ethnic group – the Batwa. So I am attuned to all things theatrical – quite a change for me from strategic plans and budgets!

When you arrive in Rwanda, you are struck by how orderly, clean and well organised the place seems, but as the days of my visit go by it becomes very clear that this country still faces many serious problems. It is still a very tense place owing to the genocide that took place 16 years ago; Hutu and Tutsi divisions are still very much at the fore front of people’s minds even if the subject is very rarely mentioned. For my role in Rwanda though, the problems of the Batwa community today far outweigh the wider ethnic divisions.

As economic growth in Rwanda powers ahead at 7% (a rate that many other countries, north as well as south can only envy), and as more and more Rwandans live in houses with many “mod cons” that would not look out of place in much of Europe, the Batwa communities live in fragile and rudimentary shelters, with no electricity and no water – not even a communal standpipe. They have been thrown off their land, most have no jobs, and many can’t afford shoes, decent clothes, exercise books or pens for their children, who then drop out of school.

Because the genocide pitted Hutu against Tutsi, all mention of a person’s ethnicity is officially banned in Rwanda. However it is still common to hear jokes broadcast on the public radio that start “A mutwa [Batwa person] walked into a pharmacy …..” and which end with an insult or a negative stereotype. Otherwise very sensitive staff in organisations doing excellent work in Rwanda told me that even within their own families children might be told “You’re so dirty, you look like a mutwa!”

Members of a Batwa community in Rwanda, 2010. Photo: Dave Hampson

We discuss whether we might include a parent saying this to a child as part of a street theatre performance to nudge audiences into reflecting on what they are saying and the impact that this will have on others. We might even have the child repeating this to a fellow pupil at school to show how casual racism destroys lives, hopes, opportunities for a family to break out of poverty.

I return to London more knowledgeable about the issues faced by minorities in the country and convinced more than ever that MRG’s street theatre programme is very much needed in Rwanda. Despite the fact that I feel slightly depressed by the poverty I have witnessed, I am buoyed up by the memories of smiling men, women and children, who, regardless of living in desperately poor communities, are still cheerful and optimistic.

Click here to read more about MRG’s Street Theatre Programme

A lesson on justice in Burundi

lucy claridge

Lucy Claridge, MRG’s Head of Law, visits a Batwa community in Burundi and learns that access to justice can seem like a far-flung dream for families struggling to meet their most basic needs. A small group of children peer nervously out at me from behind a clump of trees.  Their parents eventually extend their hands, smile shyly and greet me. “Amahoro!” they say – which means hello or, literally, “Peace”, in Kirundi.

I am visiting a Batwa community who live in Mutaho region, central Burundi.  Originally forest-dwellers, the Batwa are an indigenous group of hunter-gatherers mainly inhabiting Burundi, Uganda, DRC and Rwanda. Routinely marginalised and discriminated against, the Batwa have been forced to change their way of living due removal of their traditional lands and increased deforestation. Like many Batwa, this particular community has been caught up in a land dispute spanning nearly 40 years.

I arrive in the centre of the village, which consists of a group of around 15 very basic, single room, thatched huts.  Our partner organization in Burundi explains that I am here because MRG’s Legal Cases Programme is supporting the community in their attempts to gain back their lands. The women immediately gather round and sing a melodic welcome song and afterwards we discuss their land dispute.

Unlike many Batwa, this particular community has actually had some success. In the 1970s, the local court decided that the disputed area of land belonged, and should be returned, to them.  However, the land was never actually given back, and when one of the community elders went back to the court to try and resolve the issue, she was imprisoned for ten years.

Batwa women in Mutaho

In addition to returning the Batwa property, which would rightfully seem to be theirs, the disputed parcel of land could greatly assist the community in providing further means to cultivate crops.  Four years ago, MRG’s partner in Burundi, UNIPROBA, decided to take on the issue themselves, lodging a further case in the courts.  Yet the case remains stuck in a slow and dysfunctional court system. When I ask if anyone from the community has tried to push forward the issue, I am told that, “Daily life has more pressing issues.” Immediately I understand. With the most basic living conditions, scarce food, ill health, disease, and little or no chance of an education, access to justice rates well below access to food.

Part 2 of 2: Apparently all Africans originate from Ethiopia – new discovery at MRG media training

Read Part 1: Team blogging – part of the media training in sunny Kampala

Farah Mihlar

We are championing on. I am still typing away as the 18 participants attending MRG’s Kampala media training add their comments to a blog we are attempting to write jointly. All of the activists represented at this training work with minority communities in some of the harshest political and socio-economic climates. They are almost always excluded and often discriminated against.

‘The Batwa are the first people in the Congo but the last in getting resources from the government,’ says Tuteene, who works with Batwa ‘pygmies’ in north Kivu, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Tuteene wears the most colourful suits (today he is in orange) and has helped brighten up each of our sessions. The activists working with Batwa, in DRC and Uganda, have explained through the course of the training, how this community is marginalized and discriminated against. They face high levels of poverty and illiteracy and are stigmatized in society because of their specific physical characteristics, Peninah, explains. Peninah like Timothy also works with Batwa in Uganda.

‘The drought is so alarming and exceptional, it is having adverse effects on the livelihood of people and is causing starvation,’ Albert says. Many of the pastoralist activists have referred to the manner in which these groups of cow herders are struggling because of the prolonged drought and also due to the effects of climate change.

Mitiku, who works with pastoralists in Ethiopia highlights some of the challenges the participants may face in advocating their problems. ‘Even though we got this technical knowledge, it will be very hard and challenging to do advocacy and lobbying on the issues affecting our community,’ he says.

Whilst the training was specifically on how to use the media to promote issues affecting different communities, the bringing together of various different people, from different communities, helped to sensitise all of us, allowing the group to understand problems faced by minorities all across Africa. Many of the participants, mainly through the cultural evening, made new discoveries.

Apparently all Africans originate from Ethiopia. ‘How come no one knew this?’ I ask. ‘Some of us learnt it for the first time,’ says Joanna. I must clarify: this did not transpire based on any proper research. It just became apparent, as each activist referred to their origins that almost all of the communities represented at the training had originated from Ethiopia.

‘I didn’t know that Iteso are sons of the Karamojong,’ says Timothy. This is in reference to Albert’s historical portrayal of how the people of Karamoja and Teso came into being. The Teso, according to Albert, are a break-away group of the same set of pastoralists who moved to Karamoja. Both communities are in conflict over land and other resources in the region. ‘I think we just became stubborn and went away with the cows and never went back,’ laughs Ben, who is from Teso.

Samuel presents at a mock press conference

Samuel, who works with a Ugandan pastoralist community, says he was surprised to learn the different types of pet-names Banyoro people give each other. Drake, who is from Uganda’s Banyoro tribe, revealed to us how each person in the community has a pet-name, in addition to their real name. He has kindly named me Amooti, meaning flower (I really am not one). All of us picked up a few different ways to greet each other, the most popular was how the Karamojong do it.

‘Maata Angaatuk’ (I greet you in the name of cows, goats and all livestock), shouts Albert.

‘Maata’ we reply, in unison.

The participants also learnt about their own and others hidden talents. Samuel, for instance, discovered he is an exceptional cameraman, while Drake can easily start a career as a narrator (we hope he doesn’t give up his work with pastoralists).

Michael, the newfound reporter who apparently works for MRG TV (we don’t really have one, it was just a part of the video activity), says, team-building was good in the way we tapped into people’s professional skills. All of us had different skills. Penninah was very confident in responding to questions in the interviews and Albert was good in creating captions.

One of the most unique aspects of this training was that, whilst the entire team worked intensely for long hours throughout the day, no one was short of energy to party through the night. As we shift our focus to how much fun the group had, Sandra is unanimously asked to comment. Sandra is a local and took on a leadership role in pointing the rest of the participants to the ‘must visit’ night venues in Kampala. ‘This was not enough fun for me,’ she says laughingly… ‘Especially when we went out to my favourite hangout and the guys slept,’ she adds. This did happen. On the second evening, when we went out to a fancy bar (Sandra’s favourite), the girls all ganged up and chatted and the men looked bored to death. Some did go off to sleep. ‘It is not a human rights violation to sleep,’ quips Tuteene (no giving away who fell asleep!).

According to Albert on most nights they had so much fun they had to take a vote to decide the time to leave. I have to confess that I didn’t have enough energy to keep up with the continuous partying so wasn’t a part of these exceptionally fun nights. Faith, our Zimbabwean participant, who has unlimited energy to party, says the training was always ‘happening,’ but she insists the term has to be pronounced with a Nigerian accent (hapnin) to give it added kick.

Despite the fun, the participants re-emphasise how important the training has been for them. Drake sums up for us, ‘We have been having a barrier on how we can get our issues through to the international community, we buried our head in trying to find an answer. But this training has helped us to get an idea of how we can do this.’

Contributors

• Agnes Ingwu, Abanbeke Development Association, Obudu City – Nigeria.
• Albert Lokoru, Karamoja Agro-Pastoral Development Programme (KADP), Karamoja – Uganda.
• Drake Nyamugabwa, Masindi Pastoralist Group, Masindi – Uganda.
• Faith Nzilani Musinga, Centre of Minority Rights and Development, Harare – Zimbabwe.
• Mohamed Matovu, MRG Regional Information Officer, Kampala – Uganda.
• Mohamed Mukhtar, Media and Rights Somaliland, Hargeisa – Somaliland.
• Mitiku Tiksa, SOS Sahel Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Mugabe Herbat Joram, Pastoralist Women to Break Cultural Chains, Kiboga District – Uganda.
• Niwagaba Joan, Mbarara Development Agency, Mbarara – Uganda.
• Omunga Benjamin, Katakwi Urafiki Foundation, Katakwi District – Uganda.
• Peninah Zaninka, United Organisation for Batwa Development, Kampala – Uganda. Rahel Negussie, Pastoralist Forum Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Sandra Nassali, UgaBYTES Initiatives, Kabalagala – Uganda. Samuel Kaweesi, Nakasongora Pastoralists Association, Nakasongora – Uganda.
• Tuteene Kusimweray, Action pour la Promotion des Droits de Minorites Autochtones en Afrique Centrale, Bukavu – D.R.C. Thomas Kiptiony Chepsoi, Endorois Welfare Council, Nakuru Town – Kenya.
• Mpalanyi Michael, Uganda Land Alliance, Kampala District – Uganda.

Phrases and images concerning the Batwa

Carl Soderbergh, MRG’s Director of Policy and Communications, reflects on a visit to a Batwa community in Uganda

As the plane circled over London, preparing to land, and I peered bleary-eyed over the web of streets below, my thoughts turned to the encounters and conversations of the past week. My MRG colleagues Eva, Kathryn, Paul and I had visited southern Uganda in order to conduct a gender training for members of Batwa communities in the Great Lakes region. What came back to me in my jet-lagged state were stray comments that reflected much of what the Batwa confront today.

We had spent a day visiting Rwamahano, a Batwa settlement lying at the end of a breath-taking drive along a narrow dirt track winding around wooded ridges followed by a hike straight up a hill-side. The village comprised approximately 60 families: Batwa who had been forcibly evicted when the Echuya forest reserve was established in 1991.  As a constant reminder of what the Batwa have lost, the forest begins just on the other side of the road we had been driving along, a seemingly impenetrable tangle of green. The settlement had been established on a strip of land purchased by a charity and MRG partner organization, AICM.

The visit was a real eye-opener for me. I recalled the thrill, as a keen teen-aged zoology buff, of watching films in the 1970’s about mountain gorillas. To me then it seemed self-evident that their fragile ecosystem had to be preserved. Now I could see and hear about the considerable human cost at which this has been attempted.

Batwa elder, Simako

While other elders were gathering to sing and dance, I spoke with Simako, a Batwa elder. Simako explained that the eviction orders had already been passed in the 1960’s, but were only implemented in 1991. Ugandan security personnel arrived with no prior notice and used force to push Batwa out of the forest. The Batwa received no compensation, nor had any land been set aside for them. Ousted from the forest, the Batwa had no means of subsistence and were forced to beg, often being refused by members of other ethnic groups who would reply that, “We can’t eat from the same place.” Simako said that they were especially stigmatized because they had yet to wear anything other than the animal skins they had used in the forest.  Later, I heard another elder add, “We were not considered human.”

I asked Simako whether anyone had been injured or killed during the evictions. This did not appear to be the case. Simako said, however, that “colleagues” had been killed during another time: “There had been a war.” In those few words, he encapsulated what must surely have been a terrifying time.

Simako said that the segregation had lessened over the years. Now there are even cases of inter-marriage between Batwa and individuals of other ethnic groups. However, lack of land is still a problem. And as the community do not have a history in the area, they do not always know where exactly the boundaries of others’ property go. Thus, Batwa often end up in bitter land disputes, facing particular difficulties as they do not have the money to work the legal system or pay the necessary fees.

Later, Timothy, who heads the local AICM office, said something that I also recalled when I sat in the plane, watching London spiralling beneath me. In the gender workshop, he said that men of other ethnic groups had taken to raping Batwa women, as “this is considered a cure for back-ache.” I could not believe that he actually meant that, so I asked Timothy if this really was the case.  He assured me that it is. The phrase remains with me still, as a particularly horrible form of double discrimination.

We learned during the course of the workshop how the situation of the Batwa varies from country to country. One participant, a soft-spoken man whom I will call K, had come from South Kivu in the Democratic Republic of Congo. He described how he had received a text message one day during the past spring: “Your house has been burned down. Your brother has been kidnapped.”

It was the Interahamwe who were behind this, and K’s own personal tragedy was only one of many instances where Batwa now being caught in the cross-fire between the Hutu extremists and the Congolese army. K had been in Bukavu at the time. He rushed home only to find that all this had indeed happened and then to try to secure his brother’s release. Thankfully, after about a month, the brother managed to use his knowledge of the forest to escape at night from his captors. But the two men remain internally displaced, living in the offices of K’s organization in Bukavu.

Singers and dancers whose music described what life had been like in the forest

Timothy explained that the singers were describing what life had been like in the forest:  the greenery, the animals and the wild fruits which they used to gather. Their last song, Timothy said, was one about hope, because the families of Rwamahano still remain positive about the future. I was struck by the inward gaze of the singers and the dancers.  It became clear that the visitors were not the sole beneficiaries of this performance.  The music and the songs – including that message of hope – were of course also directed at themselves.

Down to business

MRG’s Programmes Officer, Neil Clarke, prepares to make an intervention at the African Commission, gets to know MRG’s partner organisations and is inspired by their activism

I was up like a flash this morning to catch what water was available for a warm shower and to ensure I get some cheese in my omelette… as Albert Finney famously said, “Don’t let the Hotel Exaunel grind you down.”

Today we are to make our intervention at the Commission. An intervention is a short statement under a thematic heading, in our case Indigenous Peoples. The intervention can address the Commission and attending governments directly, draws attention to specific issues and requests specific actions. It is one of the various actions you can take at such fora, alongside the opportunity to network, meet states directly and hold side events to raise awareness.

We are here with some of our partners from across Africa, who have each contributed their community’s experience and calls for action to the statement. I will briefly let you know which groups are here with us and their involvement in the statement, so you have an idea why this is such a pressing cause.

Ag Aly is from the Tuareg peoples, an indigenous pastoralist community spread across the desert borders of Mali and Niger. The Tuareg have become extremely marginalized and lack even basic services in their region. This in turn has lead to movements for greater autonomy from the Tuareg, to which the governments have responded with force. In Mali, the Tuareg region has now become militarised, prohibiting the free movement of these peoples and their access to schools and health services. In Niger, the situation is even more pressing. Under the cloak of a State of Emergency, Tuareg are subjected to arbitrary arrests and extrajudicial killings by the military.

Ibrahim is from the Mboro, an indigenous people of Cameroon. Again they find their community separated by national borders, across Chad and the Central African Republic. Lack of representation in government means their issues are ignored, leaving them vulnerable to abuse. It is becoming common for Mboro children to be kidnapped by armed gangs for ransom. Often the children are murdered regardless of payment and governing states are complicit by their inaction.

Benon, is a Batwa from Rwanda, the original indigenous people of the region. Batwa were caught in the middle of the tragic conflict between the dominant Tutsi and Hutu groups in Rwanda. Already marginalized, they have suffered more than any from the devastation caused by the conflict. Only 7% of Batwa have access to healthcare and 51% remain illiterate (the national figure being 25%), these are just a few of the examples.

But not all examples are negative, it is important to show that there are positive examples of good practice. Tezera from Ethiopia, has been working closely with the government and MRG for Ethiopia’s pastoralist communities. This has lead to Pastoralist representation in Parliament, a government standing committee and the recognition of Pastoralist Day as a National celebration – which all goes a long way to changing public perception of pastoralists.

So you see we are here for a greater purpose and struggle than surviving our accommodation. This is a very valuable exercise and for me a personal privilege to be in the company of these activists, regardless of the lizard in my toilet.