Grace was twenty-one years old in April 1994, when the militia swept into her town in Rwanda, bringing the century ’s final genocide with them. She was married and had three young children, and she believed there was nothing extraordinary about her family. However, their name was on a list of Tutsi that had been compiled by the extremist Hutu forces in the run up to the assassination of the president, the signal that triggered the genocide.

Consequently, Grace’s husband was one of the first to be executed. She was forced to watch as he was hacked to death with machetes. Her children were killed in the same manner. When it came to Grace’s turn, she was repeatedly struck with the machete on her head and arms and left for dead. Perhaps it is merciful that Grace cannot recall the event, and she cannot explain how she ended up in hiding, being cared for by a stranger, or how she was taken to a hospital, at the end of one hundred days of genocide.

Thirteen years later, Grace has had several operations, and she has finally recovered most of the use of her arms. Thanks to donations from the UK “from people I will never meet or get to thank”, as she puts it, she now has her own small home within a village of other genocide survivors in Rwanda. Her sister lives with her and helps her, and she has found a job that allows her to make enough money to survive.

Many of the survivors in the village are orphans. By their standards Grace, now thirty-four, is a mature woman to whom they look for advice and support. Like so many Rwandans, the survivors have learned to cope and adapt and keep going, despite deep psychological trauma and more mundane needs like food.

Last year Grace welcomed a group of Network for Africa supporters into her home. The visitors had been advised by their well-meaning friends at home to take practical things for the Rwandans they would be meeting. The Network for Africa group were aware of that; after all, they had been busy raising money to pay for more homes like Grace’s for orphans of the genocide. But they also wanted to give something special to Grace when they finally met her, and they asked amongst their friends for jewelry and scarves to take to Rwanda.

When the Network for Africa supporters met Grace in the sitting room of her home they gave her two necklaces, some earrings and a scarf. Grace was so overwhelmed she sank to her knees and cried with joy. Like many poor women, it had been many years since anyone had given Grace a present that was meant entirely for her. The message did not need to be translated into Kinyarwandan:

“Despite your scars you are beautiful and you deserve pretty necklaces and silk scarves.” It is a doubly powerful message for people who had been told during the years leading up to the genocide, that they were subhuman.

Grace was amazed and profoundly touched that somebody thousands of miles away had sent her a pair of earrings. Having helped to raise the money that provided for Grace’s physical need for a home, Network for Africa knew that Grace also needed something to feed her heart – the knowledge that she was special and important.

For the Network for Africa supporters, their small gesture was an inadequate way of trying to apologise. “Our country did nothing while the genocide raged in Rwanda,” one explained. “Now, of course, our politicians say we would never let it happen again, but we did in Rwanda, and we do in Darfur.”

Grace’s name has been changed to protect her identity.

Daniel was eight years old in 1994 when the Hutu militia arrived in his town. They forced all the Tutsi families from their homes and herded them to a pit on the edge of town. They lined the people up at the edge of the pit and struck each one with machetes, cutting them down. As his father was killed, Daniel jumped into the pit, pretending he had also been struck. He lay perfectly still for the next ten hours as people bled to death around him and on top of him.

When the Hutu militia passed on to the next town, Daniel climbed out and headed for the forest to hide. He lived on whatever he could find to eat and emerged after dark to steal food from peoples’ gardens. Finally, when the genocide ended, he went to a refugee camp. In the meantime, the Hutu militiamen who had massacred his town returned, dug up the bodies in the pit and moved them elsewhere to cover their tracks.

Eventually, Daniel returned home, the only one of his immediate family to survive. Like most children in Rwanda, he missed several years of school because the genocide and its aftermath disrupted every aspect of life. Daniel always liked maths, and he studied hard when he was able to get to school. He also had to grow food in the patch of garden behind the house and find odd jobs to survive.

He is now twenty-one years old, tall and handsome, and keen to become an accountant. He does not complain about his life, and describes himself as a survivor, rather than a victim. Last year the man who killed his parents appeared before a local court and confessed what he had done. “He did not apologise,” Daniel explained, “but he told us where my family’s bodies were buried.”

Daniel carries a photograph of his parents. It shows Daniel rearranging their skeletons in two coffins before giving them a decent burial. What upsets him, he says, is that every day when he leaves his home he must look into the mocking, insolent eyes of the man who killed his mother and father: his neighbour.

Daniel is one of dozens of genocide survivors attending English language lessons run by Network for Africa. Learning English will greatly improve Daniel’s chances of getting a good job, he says. Thanks to Network for Africa supporters, Daniel is also attending university. For GBP 900 a year, Network for Africa pays for Daniel’s tuition, transport , clothes, food and books.

Daniel’s name has been changed to protect his identity.

Nadine was nine years old in April 1994 when a group of Hutu militiamen came to her parents’ front door. She was playing in the garden with her little sister, and she stood on tip toe to peer through the open window as the men in uniform broke down the door. She did not understand that for years Hutu extremists has been stirring up racial hatred towards her ethnic minority, the Tutsi.

She was not aware that two days before the men arrived at her home, Hutu extremists had shot down the presidents’ plane, blamed it on the Tutsi, and used it as a pretext to slaughter Tutsi and moderate Hutu.

Nadine watched as the Hutu militiamen struck her parents and older brother and sister with machetes, killing them. Then she grabbed her little sister and started running towards the woods. However, her sister squealed in fright and the militiamen spotted them running away. One of them fired a gun and hit Nadine’s sister. Nadine stopped and saw that her sister was bleeding to death. She put her down and continued running. It is a decision she has thought about every day since then.

Nadine hid in the forest until the militia has passed through her town. One night a leopard joined her as she sat in bush, listening to the screams from the barricades set up on the main road. Everyone was being stopped and asked for their identity papers, and every Tutsi was hacked to death. “I had a choice between staying in the bush with the leopard or going out onto the road,” Nadine explained. “I prayed to God that the leopard was a vegetarian, and it seems he was because he got bored and went away.”

Like so many survivors, Nadine’s journey to a refugee camp in a neighbouring country was punctuated by days spent in a ditch beneath piles of dead bodies. After the genocide she was put in an orphanage and then given to a foster family who treated her like a domestic slave. Eventually she decided she was safer living alone on the street, so she ran away.

Nadine is now twenty-two years old and lives in what is known as a child-headed household, with a group of five other genocide survivor orphans. She grows food to sell in the local market and takes care of the younger orphans in her house. She says what she wants most is to learn to read and write, but so far she has had no chance to get an education.

Network for Africa, in partnership with a local Rwandan group, is building a community education centre and health clinic in Nadine’s deprived rural district, where currently local people have to walk five miles to get so much as an aspirin. The centre will offer night classes, continuing education and vocational courses so orphans like Nadine can catch up on the schooling they missed. There is no electricity in the area so the centre will have solar power, providing a place where people can meet, learn and study after dark. The health clinic will have doctors, nurses and psychotherapists, as well as medicines.

Nadine’s name has been changed to protect her identity.

Mechanic was nine months pregnant in April 1994 when the Rwandan genocide began. Extremist Hutu militiamen arrived in her town and rounded up all the Tutsi. Mechanic was forced to watch as her husband was killed along with the other local men.

Mechanic is now HIV positive as a result of the events of April 1994. She has a surviving child, a little boy. After the genocide, when she realised she was ill, she went to her local garage and asked them to train her. “I needed a job, you see, to support my son. And that’s why my girlfriends call me Mechanic.”

Like so many women in Rwanda, Mechanic has not had time for self-pity. In common with most survivors, she would never describe herself as a victim. She is resourceful and makes the best of almost nothing. Across Rwanda, widows like Mechanic have formed themselves into self-governing communities where they raise livestock and grow crops for sale in the local market. They are self-reliant and share what they have.

Network for Africa, in partnership with a local Rwandan group, is creating a community education centre and health clinic where genocide widows like Mechanic can take classes at times that suit their needs. They will be offered a chance to learn vocational skills, nutrition, sexual and reproductive health, and micro-finance skills. They will also be offered classes in governance and civic participation and gender empowerment. Although there is no electricity in the district, the centre will have solar panels, meaning that people can study, meet and work after dark.

During the Liberian elections in 2005, a Network for Africa volunteer was manning a polling booth, monitoring the voting process. It was five thirty in the morning, and thirty nine degrees centigrade, yet a crowd of thousands had formed in orderly lines in the clearing, waiting to vote.

As the network for Africa volunteer commented, “That woman probably didn’t have an MBA, but she knew a business opportunity when she saw it. Like so many African women, she could make the most out of almost nothing.”

Network for Africa is building on the natural entrepreneurial instincts of Africans by taking its business project into schools in Rwanda. Our volunteer teachers divide each class into groups that become companies, identified by an original name and logo. Each company participates in informal seminars in which they are taught business vocabulary, how to write a business plan, and ultimately how to turn innovative ideas into practical business enterprises.

Each company is then given a small amount of capital (about £5, or $10) and a further two weeks to make a profit from their capital and their company’s business idea. If they make a profit, it is the company’s to keep. If they make a loss, they repay the initial capital. Every company taking part in the project has so far made a profit, one making three times the amount of the original investment.

Much of Rwanda’s infrastructure was destroyed during the 1994 genocide, and there is huge unemployment. In a country with few natural resources, the Network for Africa project encourages young people to identify the possible profitable gaps in the market and to act on their instincts and ideas with a small amount of money behind them. The project adds to their confidence to take the first steps to starting their own businesses.

Network for Africa needs financial help to send its volunteer teachers to Rwanda and to support their work in schools.

Claudine is now twenty-seven years old, but she was only fourteen when the Rwandan genocide began. It took her ten years to be able to talk about what happened to her family. Like many survivors of the genocide, she could find no words to express her sorrow, depression and anxiety.

The outer scars have healed with time, but the inner trauma only surfaced when she had the courage to put her experiences into words. Suddenly, she said, the huge burden was lifted from her shoulders. She realised she was not alone and that it helped to talk. She also knew she wanted to help other survivors.

Now Claudine is part of a training programme run by Network for Africa’s volunteer psychologists and psychiatrists. She is one of dozens of women who wish to be able to offer other genocide survivors the psychological support they need.

Rwanda is a poor country with limited resources, and there are too few professionally qualified psychotherapists to begin to address the enormous legacy of the genocide. Network for Africa brings professionals to Rwanda to provide courses in the techniques of psychotherapy. It would be inappropriate for volunteers from Europe or North America to do one-on-one counselling in Rwanda. However, by training local women in psychotherapy, it is possible to reach rural people who could never afford to travel to the capital, Kigali.

Ishmael is a 10-year old genocide survivor. When his village in Darfur was attacked by the Sudanese Government and the Janjaweed militia, the attackers grabbed Ishmael and threw him in a fire, just because he was a boy. He was six at the time. His father was shot before his eyes, and his mother died of shock. His one-year old brother died when they arrived at the refugee camp. He is left with an older sister and his grandmother who cares for them.

Without his grandmother’s intervention, Ishmael would have perished in the fire. Now it is us up to us to reach out where he cannot help himself. Having seen video footage and photos of the young boy, doctors in the UK believe Ishmael can regain the use of his hand and arm. The medical structures Ishmael so desperately needs are absent in Chad. Network for Africa is therefore raising funds to enable Ishmael to seek professional medical help abroad and cover the cost of operations on his arm.

The gift of wholeness will become a testimony of courage and survival and an example of hope to others. Regaining the use of his hand and arm will also help ensure Ishmael a productive future, where he in turn may provide for his older sister and for his grandmother in her old age.

Please help Ishmael by sending a cheque made payable to Network for Africa, with a note indicating that the donation is to support Ishmael.

Ishmael's Journey

It is 7:30 am when we arrive at Ishmael’s enclosure and the heat and dust is fast upon us. The neighbours quickly surround the little family and welcome us in. Ishmael’s story belongs to them after all. The women chatter excitedly and it takes some convincing to leave us alone; we do not want to shame Ishmael beyond what he already has to endure.

Settling on the mats, Ishmael sits quietly, surreptitiously glancing at me. His older sister Kadija sits dutifully among them. Hala, the tribal language translator introduces us and we take turns exchanging blessings and thanks.

Grandmother Amira is excited that the khawaya – the white woman – heard the call for help and came to visit them. Maybe someone in the West will now hear their voice and find a solution. “ Ishmael was six when our village was attacked”, she explains “his dad was shot before Ishmael’s eyes and his mom collapsed from shock and died shortly after. The Janjaweed with the Sudanese army circled our village and started chasing and killing people and burning the village. The Janjaweed grabbed boys and threw them in the fire, and then they took Ishmael and threw him in the fire. The attackers were too busy killing others and fortunately they never noticed I was able to snatch Ishmael out of the fire”.

I look at Ishmael. His eyes are downcast in shame. “Ishmael, do you remember what happened to you?” He barely looks up at me and keeps staring at some distant point. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember about being thrown into the fire, but I do remember about my father being shot before me and my mother’s death. I saw many attackers but I cannot actually remember what they looked like I was too scared and confused.”

“How do you feel now? You have been in this camp for almost four years.”

“I feel embarrassed all the time, from the incident and of my father’s death and now I see myself as a handicapped who has no future.”

Ishmael breaks down; he can no longer control his feelings. Embarrassed he lowers his head. As tears flow freely, the vivid memory of his father’s death and his disability weigh heavy and he is unable to continue his story. The women watching him suffer are overcome with emotion and everyone rallies around him with encouraging words.

Hala clarifies: “The issue of the orphan is very sensitive. Now we thank God that the grandmother is there taking care of those children. It will become more severe when the grandmother is no longer alive”. This is of course the greatest worry. If Ishmael’s arm is not restored, he will become increasingly marginalized and unable to provide for his family once he is old enough. Humanitarian doctors at the camp assure us that his arm and hand can be fully restored and that Ishmael will be able to have a normal life, on condition that he receives an operation along with trauma counselling.

Ishmael is a genocide survivor. Without his grandmother’s intervention he would have perished. Now it is us up to us to reach out where he cannot help himself. The gift of wholeness will become a testimony to courage and survival and an example of hope to others. Regaining the use of his hand and arm will also assure him a productive future, where he in turn may provide for his older sister and for his grandmother in her old age. It will ultimately restore his pride and dignity.

Waging Peace is therefore raising funds to enable Ishmael to seek professional medical help abroad and cover the cost of the operations on his arm. Please help Ishmael by sending a cheque made payable to Waging Peace, with a note indicating that the donation is to support Ishmael.

read an article in the Telegraph about Ishmael