By Tim Wassberg
Running through the streets, thrown out of cars, beaten mercilessly, thrown in car trunks, beaten with clubs, set on fire, rotting in a pit... these images represent the horror in Rwanda during the genocide of 1994. One boy managed to escape to the Western world with the help of some media correspondents who saw his potential. That boy, J.B. Rutagarama, relocated from Rwanda to New York City and witnessed a further tragedy: 9/11. Ironically or understandably, watching his friends and colleagues deal with their grief over those attacks, J.B. believed it was time to deal with his ghosts and return to Rwanda. Rutagarama's documentary Back Home stakes claim to being the first film to be made by an actual survivor of the Rwandan genocide. It takes the viewer, through a series of redemptive episodes, back to Rwanda as Rutagarama attempts to reclaim his memories, reconcile with his family generally, and find his mother. Reunion Rutagarama's first return visit sought a reunion with his mother he had thought lost in the horrid violence. It was 2001 and the genocide was still fresh, still hauntingly present. Shooting in a style reminiscent of a personal diary, Rutagarama chose not to utilize a full-blown camera crew for fear it would intrude. Reconciliation The key to the film is the element of the "reconciliation." J.B.'s aunt probably took the longest time to open up. Her entire family had been killed in front of her. "She wouldn't talk about it on camera," explains J.B. "It was too traumatic. She probably experienced the worst atrocity anybody could experience. It was such an extreme. She was asked to bury her sister alive. But she was able to rise up and forgive." Continuing, J.B. shares, "And my mom - on camera, she says she doesn't want to pass this down to the children. She doesn't want this hatred to continue." Through a legal system called "gacaca," based in colonialism and old-school culture (and which translates as "justice in the grass"), the Rwandans are learning to foster forgiveness and redemption. These town meetings of sorts serve as trial and testimony where the perpetrators ask for forgiveness from those they victimized. For Rwanda and for South Africans, there is truth in reconciliation. The most intrinsic and difficult element of a documentary is placing the focus on oneself. And, as the director, objectivity sometimes became lost for J.B. For instance, during one interview, his mother begins talking about the people who died in their family and starts to cry. The first thing J.B. does is "give her a hug," coming around from behind the camera. Revelation The reason the movie works is that J.B. never thought he would show the film to an audience. As a result, there is a unique intimacy to the movie. "I went home to Rwanda thinking, ‘This is something that needs to be documented, something I could show to my grandkids one day.' It was a personal diary, I never thought it would see the light of day." For children growing up in Western culture, it is hard to explain from an emotional point of view the horrors of such acts while still allowing them to connect on a basic level. "Rwanda is finished. The genocide happened," concludes J.B. "Hopefully, it will never happen [there] again. But it is going to happen somewhere else. By people having these personal stories, there is a constant reminder of what happens when you just stand by and don't do anything." Having premiered at last year's Cinequest in San Jose, Calif., Back Home is a compelling story that needed to be shown to the rest of the world and used as an example in the States, Africa and, specifically, Darfur, which J.B. describes as "Rwanda in slow motion." There is redemption. The Rwandans, through J.B.'s eyes and his film, are forgiving, moving forward and putting a stop to that cycle of violence. And, as far as J.B. is concerned, it doesn't get any better than that. |
