An Incredible Story of Forgiveness

“It was a beautiful morning in Burundi. I was with the students of Kwibuka Pastoral Training Center where I was the teacher. We were taking a break between classes, sitting in the sun on the steps of the dormitory. I was thinking about these bright students and those who had previously studied in the school.”

David Nyonzima, the author, tells about this fateful day in his book, Unlocking Horns, Forgiveness and Reconciliation in Burundi, co-authored by Lon Fendall.

“From the time we realized the soldiers were heading toward the school and the time they began shooting, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. There was no time to reason with the soldiers, no time to negotiate. We did what I suppose anyone would have done upon hearing the terrifying sound of automatic weapons. We scattered in every direction. I was sure some of the students would be killed and that I might be killed as well, but I knew I could do nothing to stop the assassins.

“I ran from the scene of the butchering, wondering if the next bullet would be for me. In a bizarre way, it was like a childhood game of hide and seek, with one big difference: getting caught could mean the end of my life. I was so nearly overcome by fear and shock, it was all my legs could do to carry me across the open space to the building where I thought I could hide, a building that had been used to train young people in auto mechanics. The mechanics school had been closed when the missionaries had to leave in the 1980s and had remained locked, with many of the tools and auto parts still in place.

“I unlocked and entered the shop door, hoping that the soldiers would assume the building was abandoned and pass on by. Just in case the soldiers might break into the building, I had to find a hiding place inside. I climbed into the pit where the mechanics could stand under a vehicle to drain the oil and do other work. An old vehicle was on top of the pit, so I hoped the soldiers might not spot me under the car.”

As David hid, the terror of gunfire in the distance eventually was overwhelmed by the sounds of soldiers smashing the door to his hiding place. God protected him and the soldiers did not discover where he was hiding. David remained there all that day and all night. Next morning, he disguised himself in old mechanics overalls and fled to his parents’ house, where he hid out in the dust and spider webs of their attic.

“The days dragged on, with no way of knowing whether we were still in danger. As a Tutsi, my wife felt she would be safe in our house. But I remained in my parents’ attic, feeling fairly sure some of the bullets were meant for me, a well-known Hutu.”

“The days turned into a week when I heard a voice say very clearly, ‘David, if you were meant to die, you would have been killed on the day when the students were massacred. No bullets came your way. What are you doing here?’”

“It was with relief and dread that I realized God was telling me to come out of my hiding place. … I found a friend to go with me back to the school and our home. As we approached the buildings, things were frighteningly quiet. The strongest sensation we had as we arrived was the horrible smell of decomposing bodies. No one had dared to come and bury the bodies.”

After calling on additional help to chase dogs away and bury 25 bodies, David slumped into a depression and just wanted to die, like Elijah the prophet. The “why” questions pounded in his head. “Why did so many have to die, especially the students who had so much potential in God’s work? Why had there been no warning that something like this might happen? Why hadn’t God told us to flee? What had we done to make the informants bring the soldiers to our school? Why had the attackers gotten mixed up, killing two Tutsi students and sparing the life of a Hutu? Why, God, why?”

In the midst of David’s pondering, “A new and amazing word came to me from the Lord. … God told me to go the next step and actually forgive these enemies, as Jesus had taught. Forgive them? Yes. Was I to go to these persons and tell them I forgave them? Yes. Would that be easy? Of course not. Was God asking me to do this? Yes, He was.

“While I was arguing with myself whether I could forgive the killers, I was in town and encountered Filbert, one of the two local persons who had led the (soldiers) to Kwibuka. Before I could talk myself out of speaking to this man, I found myself greeting him and reaching out and shaking his hand. To my great surprise, these words came from my mouth, ‘By God’s power, I forgive you for your part in bringing the soldiers to kill our students at Kwibuka.’”

“My words had a dramatic effect on both of us. Filbert was completely overwhelmed and speechless, even though he couldn’t bring himself to confess. I, in turn, was overwhelmed with joy and relief. I felt a heavy load had been lifted from my back. I felt released. Peace spread through my body and spirit. Fear and anger gave way to boldness and love. … That simple handshake and those few words of forgiveness became a turning point in my life, pulling me away from the spirit of revenge which has overwhelmed the people of Burundi, and turning me toward the spirit of forgiveness.”

David’s example has created a pathway for healing to begin for traumatized people and between Tutsi and Hutu people. He has spoken on national radio to encourage people to come out of hiding. He is also the leader of the Trauma Healing and Reconciliation Service (THARS) in Burundi, with options to duplicate that ministry in Rwanda and the Congo. THARS supports women who have been traumatized and seeks to help them build self-confidence, skill and hope for the future. Land given by the government in May for a headquarters building has a stipulation that a building be in place by next May.

(Editor’s Note: In June I met David after having known about him for several years. When he learned that I had been involved in organizing two previous work camps in Africa, he urged me to organize a work camp to come to Burundi and help them build their new headquarters building. Plans are proceeding for that dream to be realized. See the brochure about the Work Camp to Burundi. J. Braun)