Life After Violence
Page 15
The second stream of expectations about young women mirrors the first one concerning men. It deals with marriage, hard work, and household work. There are some fascinating insights to be found in this stream. To earn money, for example, is the second-biggest category for young (urban) men; yet it is not once mentioned as an expectation for young women – even though, as a straightforward matter of fact, many women clearly do earn money, both in the rural areas and in the city. Women earning money seems the ultimate taboo. Taking charge of the needs of parents, spouse, or children was mentioned at least fifty-five times for men, but only seven times for women – although, once again, women often play predominant roles in this. At the same time, ‘hard work’ is by far the top category of expectations for women, especially in the city (19 percent versus 9 percent in rural areas). Traditional gender expectations about women’s work and the value attached to it remain widely pervasive.
In short, the Burundians we interviewed appear heavily imbued with traditional masculine and feminine ideals, even after a decade of war. Families may have been uprooted, the economy may be in a shambles, men and women may have had to take on different roles – but the expectations Burundians have of men and women still appear very much traditional, although expectations of traditional morality are declining in the city, especially for men but also, to a lesser extent, for women.
Moving away from traditional expectations
At the same time, there was a sizeable group among our interviewees whose answers to our questions about gender expectations ran against the stream, challenging traditional gender roles. This section picks up on these counter-trends. We focus on three main areas: women’s education, dynamism, and spousal respect and cooperation. What we describe here is much less often discussed in the general literature on gender in Africa.
TABLE 6.2 Expectations of young men and young women: frequency of responses based on 260 participants
Expectations Young men Young women Non-gender-specified Total
Education
39 52 73 164
Dynamism
12 23 3 38
Spousal respect and cooperation
20 22 NA 42
Young women and education One important result of our interviews is that in Burundi education is valued as much for boys as for girls (by their parents), as much by boys as by girls. And our data confirm this interview result: gender has no impact in any of the regressions we tried. Men do not have a higher educational attainment than women do, nor do they value education more; similarly, they do not desire it more for their boys than for their girls. This finding is particularly interesting because it contradicts most literature on women’s education in sub-Saharan Africa. Quantitative data show that girls are under-represented in primary, secondary and tertiary schools, and have substantially higher rates of illiteracy in comparison to boys (UNESCO 2000). Qualitative research suggests that parents are unwilling to invest in a young girl’s education for many reasons: they tend to place greater emphasis on the education of sons, who will likely attain higher levels of employment than daughters; girls need to work at home and take care of young siblings, farming, and collecting fuel; girls may become pregnant and thus be forced to end schooling, etc. (Kwesiga 2002; Yahya-Othman 2000: 35; Okeke 2001: 236–9).
Our conversations in Burundi differ significantly from this picture. While these factors all remain relevant to Burundi, our study clearly indicates that the expected gender backlash in educational access is not taking place in the country. Literally all our interviewees, regardless of category, stressed the importance of educating both young men and young women. In addition, when speaking about trends since the time of their parents, several young women described women’s increased access to education as a positive change. This sixteen-year-old female student from the IDP camp reflected the sentiment of many: ‘When my mother was young, women only did household duties and did not go to school, but because of development girls can go to school and get knowledge and skills.’ Fathers – or future fathers – wanted their daughters to study. This eighteen-year-old Busiga farmer states it well: ‘My daughter, I want her to complete her studies and engage in things that will help to prepare her for the future. If she is not able to complete her studies, she will get married at the proper age, i.e. not too young.’ And educated men, both urban and rural, desire to marry women who have attained a certain level of education as well (although none of them wants to marry a woman with a higher education level than himself!).
The data in the previous chapter confirm this social change: education rates for young women are much higher than for older women, and in some places, such as the IDP camp in Ruhororo, girls’ education levels were very high. Nyanza-Lac, a fertile region, used to be widely known for the low importance families attached to the education of boys and, even more so, of girls, but following the war a dramatic change has occurred here as well – and the rise in average girls’ education was especially noteworthy. Generally, this trend results from the growing realization among Burundians that agriculture has no future and that education constitutes the best path toward a different life. The war has not dented this trend – indeed, among some people such as IDPs and refugees, it seems to have facilitated it.
Dynamism and young people Thirty-eight different interviewees described ‘dynamism’ as a positive characteristic of young people – whether they were talking about whom they wanted to marry or what they expected of their children. Dynamism refers to a set of personal attributes such as having foresight, being innovative, and/or actively seeking opportunities. It may not be surprising that dynamism is valued when describing young men – it seems to fit quite easily with a value attached to making money, to being responsible and in charge, all the more so in a society where competition for survival is cut-throat. What is surprising, however, is that dynamism was spoken of as a positive attribute for women three to four times more often than for men. We believe that our interviewees, when talking about dynamic women, were explicitly and self-consciously departing from traditional gender expectations. Those who spoke about the importance of female dynamism were slightly more often from Bujumbura than from the rural areas, slightly more often under the age of thirty, and more likely to be male. Here are some examples of how dynamism was described for women:
I want to marry a dynamic woman who would not sit down and say, ‘I will wait for what my husband gives me.’ With such a woman, even if I am not rich, we can search for ways of getting better in life. (Twenty-two-year-old man, Ruhororo)
My future wife, if I am lucky enough to get one, should be dynamic and smart to help me well in life and be a real partner in my life, not just be beautiful of body. It is of no importance if she is urban or rural. (Twenty-three-year-old male self-demobilized soldier, Kamenge)
I want a wife who is full of initiatives and creative. She must be my right arm in the household, especially to search to improve the family well-being. (Forty-four-year-old male, Bujumbura)
In our interviews, it was especially young men – when describing a potential spouse – who valued dynamism. This desire is an adaptation to economic crisis: they know how hard it will be to survive, let alone flourish, as a household relying only on their own meager chances for income, and they seek a spouse who will take initiative, help out. This is confirmed by CARE staff, who did a series of intensive dialogues with women throughout the country. They argue that it is principally in the poorest households that women possess more decision-making power and that husbands talk favorably about their wives’ independence (CARE-Burundi 2006: 5). Anthropologists have documented the same dynamics in Asian countries such as India and Bangladesh: families who can afford it do all they can to maintain traditional purity – poorer families, on the other hand, cannot afford these practices, and women are de facto much more ‘liberated’ there. This is exactly the analysis of this nineteen-year-old woman in Busiga: ‘Girls are more dynamic and clearsighted now, because they can no longer count on their parents and thei
r husbands. This is especially the case for poor girls, because the richer ones are taken care of by their parents.’ The willingness of men to acknowledge that this is taking place is of interest here, suggesting that a change in gender roles is occurring. This change, as always, has as its starting point what exists – in this case the traditional expectation that the role of a woman is to work hard – but it does add an extra twist, valuing initiative and autonomy. Dynamism was more frequently emphasized as a desirable trait in women than in men. This may be for a combination of reasons. First, it may be generally assumed that young men need to be dynamic to survive: this is so evident it requires no specific mention. This is certainly not the case for women, however, and those who spoke of female dynamism made an explicit point – we think they were deliberately moving away from traditional gender roles in their expectations and attitudes. The novelty is of course not that women have suddenly become dynamic in Burundi, but rather that this dynamism is explicitly appreciated or recognized. Gender roles are changing in Burundi, then, as a result of the pressures of impoverishment.
Spousal respect and cooperation Another somewhat non-traditional response to the question ‘What makes a good wife or good husband?’ emphasizes the need to respect and to cooperate with one’s spouse. For example, a thirty-year-old widow in Ruhororo told us, ‘I would like to marry a man who treats me with respect, like my first husband. Also, I would like to find consensus on our future projects together.’ A nineteen-year-old male migrant in Musaga said, ‘I want a wife with whom I can discuss the problems of the household – someone who is comprehensive and who loves to work the land.’ This was deemed an almost equally important trait for husbands as for wives; and it was mentioned by male interviewees as much as by females (16 percent of all marriage answers for both). Interestingly, the majority who spoke about this were under thirty; it was also mentioned twice as frequently in Bujumbura than in the rural areas. We believe that what we term ‘spousal respect’ and the emphasis on collaboration, discussion, initiative, and plain and simple respect may be the marker of significant (and thus by definition slow) change in the more traditional relationship standards in Burundi, especially among the younger generation. Perhaps such shifts serve as adaptations to increasing economic hardship – this may explain, again, why men mention this as well. Perhaps it is the result of longer-term social dynamics toward values of equality and equity, similar to what we documented in the chapter on citizenship.
The answers discussed so far in this section run counter to the relentlessly negative tone of so much scholarship on gender, in which, it seems, all men, when they have difficulty reaching masculine ideals, simply drop their responsibilities and take their frustration out on women (Silberschmidt 2001; Barker and Ricardo 2006; Amuyunzu-Nyamongo and Francis 2006). This is also of practical importance, as it offers levers for further, internally driven change. These young men and women we spoke to, after all, are not intellectuals or foreigners, brandishing the banners of feminism and the high moral ground. They are ordinary people, who have an impact on their neighbors and communities. Intelligent work with them can have a much higher pay-off than countless declarations and workshops in the capital.
Conclusion
The story of men and women in Burundi both converges and diverges from the existing literature on gender in sub-Saharan Africa. Burundians identify with traditional African constructions of masculinity and femininity – at their core, to be a good young woman is to behave morally, to be a hard worker in the home of first her parents and then her husband, and to bear children. To be a good young man is to be financially viable enough to secure a marriage, support one’s family, and provide for one’s parents. And everyone ought to respect their parents and elders. Some of these values are beginning to change, especially for men in urban areas.
After a decade of civil war and many more years of population pressure and economic stagnation, young women and men find it very hard to live up to these expectations. There is near-consensus that young men find it very hard to marry in the way desired by themselves and their community. Some particularly vulnerable groups of young men simply declare that it has become impossible for them to do so.
This gap between the ideal – i.e. early marriage and a life as provider for a growing family – and the attainable has been described in many other studies as the cause of psychological problems, violence, alcoholism and drug abuse, as well as familial rejection and community ostracism (Silberschmidt 2001; Amuyunzu-Nyamongo and Francis 2006; Barker and Ricardo 2006: 161, 177). It is a common assumption nowadays that part of the popular appeal of participation in civil wars among young men results from the fact that becoming a soldier can give young men the prestige they fail to get through the regular path of marriage, and access to sex they cannot get conventionally.3 Some people we spoke to seemed to fit this picture. Among the young men we interviewed, some of the most depressed were those in the IDP camp in Ruhororo. (Note that, in this very camp, we found the highest average educational attainment for women – above nine years in our sample.) Living under social and economic trauma caused by the war and economically stuck in IDP camps, they are incapable of achieving normative manhood. A high proportion of them told us they expected never to marry. They adhered to some of the most misogynistic attitudes toward women we met anywhere: the labeling of women as prostitutes was a recurrent theme – those women who migrated, those with possible careers, those who strayed from tradition. One could thus argue that they responded by looking down on women in order to restore their compromised masculine identities.
On the flip side, a group of young men who were perhaps even worse off consisted of the self-demobilized ex-combatants we interviewed in Bujumbura. They felt they had sacrificed the best years of their lives for nothing; they are almost all unemployed, extremely poor, socially marginal, and unmarried. But these same people also all told us of their wish to marry the mothers of their children, to support their families. They spoke of integrity, partnership, responsibility – a mixture of old and new gender values and the values embedded in the institution of bashingantahe.
The primary reason why the strong link identified in the literature between economic hardship, the difficulty of attaining normative masculinity, and participation in violence does not hold in Burundi is, we believe, the already discussed flexibility of Burundian society. Our conversations show that young people and their families everywhere are devising adaptations – including migration, the widespread acceptance of unofficial marriage, and the general lowering of marriage requirements, and far bigger investments in education for both boys and girls – in order to manage the hardships involved in assuring economic survival and creating better lives (including attaining the marriage ideal). Such adaptations are changing both the institution of marriage and traditional gender roles. They make it less likely that ‘frustrated masculinity’ is a major driver of popular political violence in Burundi.
As usual, there is a lot of variation. Take the rural-to-urban migrants, for example, who see themselves as hard-working fighters, trying to make it in a tough world, and who often had marriage at the center of their life goals. Some gave us the traditional argument of wanting a wife from the countryside, for only they have good morals and work hard, whereas those from the city only want to spend money. But others talked with passion about desiring a wife who would be a partner, dynamic, creative, resourceful. There was as much variation in the young women we interviewed. Some tenaciously held to traditional norms, but others pushed gender roles. With encouragement from parents, many of them study longer – far longer – than their parents ever did. Others are creative from a young age: they trade, they work in rural factories, they take leadership roles in cooperatives, they get elected to the conseil de colline. Many of them push boundaries in the private sphere as well. They negotiate different relations with their spouses – more freedom to move and work, more decision-making power within the household, more visibility and respect in the public spher
e. And those who succeed share the tricks with their younger sisters afterwards!
Of course, many women have suffered as well, especially during these war years: they have been raped by combatants, beaten by their husbands, left behind by their boyfriends, kicked out of school when pregnant. Some are left with little choice but prostitution, or becoming a concubine, in order to survive. In a society where violence has become omnipresent, where the law does not function, and where frustration and anger are everywhere, it is actually amazing that all this does not occur even more frequently.
The scholarly and operational literature on gender and (post)-conflict would do well to pay more attention to the dynamics described in this chapter. Discussions of spousal respect and cooperation, of valuing education and dynamism in a young woman, are nearly non-existent in the literature. While these notions are certainly not desired (and even less practiced) by everyone in Burundi, they do represent strands in society, partly caused by the war, partly the result of longer-standing dynamics of economic impoverishment and modernization. They can be built on, but for that they need to be recognized.
7 | Justice, silence, and social capital
ANN NEE AND PETER UVIN
In the past fifteen years, the reach and expectations of transitional justice have expanded remarkably. As described in Ruti Teitel’s genealogy, transitional justice has moved ‘from the exception to the norm,’ and entered a third phase of development where it is ‘all transitional justice, all the time’ (Teitel 2003: 71). According to a 2004 UN Secretary-General report, transitional justice incorporates ‘the full range of processes and mechanisms associated with a society’s attempts to come to terms with the legacy of large-scale past abuses, in order to ensure accountability, serve justice and achieve reconciliation,’ including ‘individual prosecutions, reparations, truth-seeking, institutional reform, vetting and dismissals’ (paras 4, 9). Transitional justice initiatives thus encompass a broad range of interventions that vary in their emphases on punishment versus reconciliation; international versus national primacy; individual versus community focus; and formal versus traditional procedures. But orthodox transitional justice proposals all share the assumptions that punishing ‘perpetrators’ and establishing ‘truth’ are the only good responses following mass violence.