The club thuds on to the metal table and rolls heavily out of the plastic bag marked ”evidence”. Almost a metre of dark wood, its head is studded with nails, many of them mangled and flattened from the grisly use to which it was put.
The evidence room at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) is full of these relics of the unimaginable — the machetes used to slice foetuses from wombs and to slash hamstrings to prevent victims from escaping while awaiting slaughter; the clubs used to shatter the tiny skulls of children; the axes used to mutilate the sexual organs and to try and ensure the ”enemy” was obliterated.
While the Rwandan genocide may have ended a decade ago, its horrors remain undimmed. In 100 days of orchestrated butchery during 1994, 15% of the population was killed in attacks often led by those who might in other circumstances be expected to serve and protect — priests, doctors, teachers and government ministers.
In the tribunal chambers the crimes are kept alive: the masterminds who fled the country have been tracked down and are being called to account.
For many witnesses the opportunity to stand face to face with the accused is crucial. In a recent case one witness was an elderly woman whose eyesight was failing. When asked to identify the person who had committed the violence, she rose from the witness box and slowly walked around the chamber, peering into each face in turn. On reaching the accused she stopped and looked into his eyes: ”It is you. In April 1994 I was nothing to you.” Now she is something to him — a prosecution witness helping to bring him to justice.
The ICTR was formed by a resolution of the United Nations Security Council, and tasked with prosecuting perpetrators of genocide and human rights violations. The aim is to build national reconciliation and peace and to challenge the culture of impunity in Africa. This message was very clearly sent by the conviction of former Rwandan prime minister Jean Kambanda, the first head of state ever to have been found guilty on a charge of genocide.
Adama Dieng, registrar of the tribunal, acknowledges the shortcoming by which international justice tends to punish human rights abusers instead of preventing abuses. He told the Mail & Guardian that the African Union needs to work out a clear early warning mechanism to allow it to respond swiftly and use military capacity when necessary.
The tribunal has faced much criticism, particularly about its pace of delivery. Critics often say that the budget of $212-million would be better spent if it were given directly to the Rwandan people, many of whom are still living in poverty and struggling to cope with the aftermath, HIV/Aids and the loss of family support structures. But as tribunal president Judge Erik Møse points out, if the tribunal did not exist the UN member states would simply not give any money.
Given that a large proportion of the population was involved in the genocide in one way or another, the ICTR’s focus is on the ”big fish” — the planners and organisers of the genocide — who are awaiting trial in the UN detention facility in Arusha.
They have decent cells, access to television, computers and study, their meals are overseen by a dietician and a team of top class international lawyers prepare their defence. The UN facility is often bitterly referred to by survivors as the ”Arusha Hilton”. And if they are convicted they will serve their prison terms in relative comfort in member states as diverse as Sweden and Swaziland — and the death penalty will not apply.
By contrast, more than 115 000 henchmen and foot soldiers are being held in Rwandan prisons, often in very overcrowded conditions, with no legal assistance and the possibility of facing the death penalty if convicted. Many people were arrested after the genocide and it is often difficult to tell if they were genocidaires or survivors.
It is estimated that it would take the Rwandan courts more than 60 years to try all the genocide suspects in formal courts. Most will be tried in their local district by the Gacaca courts, which are based on the traditional Rwandan mechanism for resolving village disputes. The trials will be presided over by lay persons of good standing in the community. The accused will not be legally represented, but members of the community may speak out in their defence.
But survivors have serious reservations about the Gacaca system, particularly in villages where there are just one or two survivors. There are several reported cases where the family of the accused have attacked and killed survivors to prevent them from testifying.
The tribunal’s contribution to international humanitarian law cannot be underestimated, such as the extended definition of rape as an act of genocide. In the first such case since World War II, a judgement was handed down on the role of media in the context of war, giving clear guidelines on the balance between freedom of speech and abuse of these rights. Trials are meant to conclude in 2008 and appeals must be finalised by 2010, yet the number of accused still to be prosecuted is greater than the number whose cases have been concluded.
”This is an exercise of hope, not of doubt,” says Judge Møse. ”If we do not believe, we are lost.”