Trauma, Representation and the Rwandan Genocide:
The changing articulation of memorial politics from Hotel Rwanda toKinyarwanda
MA Media & Culture Course: Thesis Film Studies
Instructor: mw. Dr. M.A.M.B. Lous Baronian Student: Bastiaan Roebert
Student Number: 6054684 Word count: 22883
Abstract
This thesis project explores the study of trauma and its depiction in films about the Rwandan Genocide of 1994. By examining four films on this topic, I will analyze how the
representation of this event in the West has developed since the production of Hotel Rwanda (T. George, 2004), until the latest release Kinyarwanda (A. Brown, 2011). The depiction of traumatic experience will also be linked to the portrayal of history. This will reveal how the constructed historical world in every film contributes to a different view on the state of the trauma. It will be argued that there has been a shift in the representation of the Rwandan Genocide that is characterized by a more personal approach towards the infliction of trauma. The tension between personal and collective experience will be connected to the issue of memorializing within the context of Rwanda’s politics of remembrance, since the
government has implemented a policy of reconciliation and unification. Ultimately, this will result in a better understanding of what these Western films mean for the narrative that the government in Rwanda is trying to construct for its inhabitants, who will never forget what happened twenty years ago.
Table of contents
Abstract p. 2
Table of contents p. 3
1. Introduction: Rwanda’s anniversary of national trauma p. 4
1.1 Historical background p. 7
1.2 Trauma and representation p. 9
1.3 Film and history p. 12
1.4 Methods and aims p. 14
2. Hotel Rwanda (T. George, 2004) p.
17
2.1 Context and narrative p. 17
2.2 The style of persistent danger p. 18
2.3 Elements of historical shock p. 21
2.4 Visualizing attention p. 23
3. Sometimes in April (R. Peck, 2005) p. 26
3.1 Context and narrative p. 26
3.2 The construction of powerlessness p. 27
3.3 What time does not heal p. 30
3.4 The medium to mark the pain p. 32
4. Munyurangabo (L. I. Chung, 2007) p. 35
4.1 Context and narrative p. 35
4.2 The state of disconnection p. 36
4.3 Interrogating history through its effects p. 38 4.4 Representing a failing reconciliation p. 40
5. Kinyarwanda (A. Brown, 2011) p. 43
5.1 Context and narrative p. 43
5.2 Signs of empowerment p. 44
5.3 The past to project the future p. 46
5.4 Evaluating the legacy of Kagame p. 49
6. Conclusion p. 52
7. Bibliography p. 56
7.1 Published literature p. 56
7.2 Filmography p. 59
8.1 Film stills p. 60 1. Introduction: Rwanda’s anniversary of national trauma
2014 marks the 20th anniversary of events that could easily be placed within a group of
darkest periods in human history. The Rwandan Genocide of 1994 is seen as one of the most devastating acts of mass destruction that has unfolded within our modern age. In terms of statistics, the impact of the systematic sloughter is clearly visible. An estimated 500,000 to 1,000,000 Rwandans were killed in an attempt by Hutu extremists to annihilate all Tutsis and moderate Hutus (Rubenstein 2004: 286). About one fifth of the entire population was killed and these acts were carried out within a period of only approximately one hundred days. Therefore, even in terms of genocide, this particular case was one of the most extreme outbursts of violence to have ever taken place. But the impact of the carnage reaches a lot further than the act itself. When such a large part of a population is killed or witness to these events, the majority of the remaining survivors is left with a burden that cannot be
represented through statistics. On top of that, studies on genocides have also shown that when the victim group is part of the society in which the killings take place, the effects on that same society are huge and can last for many generations (Chalk and Jonassohn 1990: 421). This means that for the survivors of the Rwandan Genocide, the process of dealing with such a traumatic history only just started twenty years ago.
Every year during April, the Rwandan people remember what happened in those three months of extreme terror. The post-genocide government of Rwanda, under leadership of former RPF commander Paul Kagame, has initiated a policy to remember the genocide, presented to the world as the blue print for creating national unity and reconciliation. This means that the binary structures between ethnic groups, which formed one of the basic ingredients for the violence taking place, are aimed to be broken so that Rwandans will identify themselves as Rwandan, instead of Hutu or Tutsi (Beswick 2011: 491). Even though the remembrance of the genocide itself is something unquestionable in the minds of the majority, the way of doing this is still a site of debate. The interpretation of the past, as articulated by the government, can be painful for the people who do not relate to the politics of remembrance that has shaped the national context of dealing with the genocide. The critique on the government’s strategy varies from the alleged disregard of traumatic experience that is far from healed (Applegate 2002: 71), to the way in which it would promote the construction of new binary categories (Hintjens 2008: 8). These debates clarify that Rwanda is constantly reminded of the events that took place two decades ago, while the
people have to deal with this traumatic memory on a personal and collective level. The act of remembering is being carried out through the memorial sites that are physically present in Rwanda, as well as artifacts and cultural products like the medium of film. This medium provides a narrative for a group to construct a collective memory of a shared history (Jordan and Weedon 2012: 144). Collective memory is critical for a group because it defines the understanding of their own history. For Rwanda, the events of 1994 have resulted in the formation of a traumatized history. The idea that trauma is always rooted in history has been presented in the work of Cathy Caruth, who uses literary pieces to stress how we cannot understand trauma without acknowledging its relational character, as it is the case with history itself:
...that history, like trauma, is never simply one’s own, that history is precisely the way in which we are implicated in each other’s traumas. (Caruth 1996: 24)
According to Caruth, trauma can be seen as the wound of the mind and the nature of its occurrence is what makes it so hard to deal with. The extraordinary character of the traumatic event resides in its unexpectedness and inability to be understood by the person upon whom it is inflicted, only to return in a belated experience that takes form in nightmares or repetitive actions (Caruth 1996: 4).
The way in which the Rwandan Genocide is represented in films over the last decade will form the core of this thesis project. The point from which I would like to enter the representation of trauma is in line with one of the positions taken in the work of Ann Kaplan and Ben Wang. They suggest an approach in films that is based on being witness to the trauma, creating a space where one can identify with the characters and engage in their experience (Kaplan and Wang 2004: 10). I will mainly focus on the development of the different characters in regard to the depiction of trauma. The representations of these very distinct experiences can be deployed in numerous ways through the language of cinema. In the analysis, the aesthetic qualities such as cinematography, mise en scène and music will be of tremendous importance, for they all contribute to different articulations of trauma. The selected corpus entirely consists of fictional feature films, and as Alexander Dauge-Roth has argued:
Fictional films have a memorial and ideological role to play in the sense that they can undo the forgetting surrounding the genocide, a media invisibility, which effectively supports many genocide deniers discourses… (Dauge-Roth 2010: 228)
These feature films allow the spectator to engage in the Rwandan past, creating a moment in which we are confronted to the events of 1994, showing what the Rwandans felt during those one hundred days. Instead of just viewing, it is as though we are experiencing history
(Rosenstone 2006: 39). The films all contribute to a memory of the events but they construct this traumatic past differently. Through their story telling, each film is negotiating with a larger narrative that consists of a series of key events, which are all known to have taken place, but can be transported to the screen in various ways by the respective directors. The four films I will discuss are all partially or completely Western productions and are also meant for Western audiences.1 Within such a context, it is important to look at the historical
lessons they are trying to convey (Dauge-Roth 2010: 170). As pointed out by historian Robert Rosenstone, a major function of the historical feature film is to reflect on the social and political concerns of the period in which they were made (Rosenstone 1995: 48). Analyzing the depiction of history in these films will therefore create an understanding in its reflection on the present situation in Rwanda. Since Kagame’s administration had imposed a very specific view on the genocide, their policy is also a form of shaping history. The regulation of memorialization and the restriction of other narratives has given the government the
possibility to only articulate their version of the events. As these films are international productions, they are not bound to any national restrictions, and they can provide a significant perspective on the way the Rwandan politics of remembrance are perceived. Ultimately, the aim is to uncover the representation of traumatic symptoms within characters, examine the role by which history is projected, and link these implications to Rwanda’s political context of the period in which the films were made. The aspect of historiography is thus incorporated into the main research question of this thesis project:
How did the representation of traumatic experience evolve in films about the Rwandan Genocide and what does the construction of the past in these films say about the present perspective of this trauma in regard to Rwanda’s national politics of remembrance?
1 The other feature films depicting the Rwandan Genocide are unsuitable for different reasons. Shooting Dogs (M. Caton-Jones, 2005) and Shake Hands with the Devil (R. Spottiswoode, 2007) are not incorporated because the protagonists are all Western, while the Rwandan characters do not hold a central position within the
storyline. A Sunday in Kigali (R. Favreau, 2006) does not fit the scope of research because the tragedy of having AIDS is the main theme, instead of the genocide.
In the following section, I will start with a short outline of the events surrounding the Rwandan Genocide of 1994. Because the focus within the discourse of the genocide is mostly on the horrific bloodshed and the statistics of deaths, it seems obligatory to give a brief background on the historical setting that served as the ground for the killings to unfold. After this, theories within the field of trauma studies will be discussed by looking at the experience of individual trauma as well as the construction of collective trauma. This will also include the representation of trauma within the medium of film. The third section will deal with the ideas on how film can serve as an historical document and these sections together will form the theoretical framework for the analysis, along with the fourth and final section of this chapter, in which the different scopes of the film analysis will be introduced. All in all, this will set the framework for providing a close reading of the films, followed by an analysis of the political context, while simultaneously considering the role of presenting history. This approach will hopefully shed a new perspective on what these films can mean for the Rwandan people.
1.1 Historical background
The origins of the Rwandan Genocide are to be found in the pre-colonial past before the late 19th century. The former Kingdom of Rwanda, founded in the 11th century and which
consisted of almost the same area as the contemporary state, was home to several ethnic groups. Apart from Tutsis, Hutus and Twas, groups like the Hema, Kiga and Furiru people were also inhabitants and all of them lived together, predominantly in a peaceful situation. The reigning monarch of the Kingdom was a Tutsi and over the course of several centuries, the Tutsi minority obtained a stronger position over the other groups of people, allowing them to control the most important chief positions in the country (Rubenstein 2004: 287). However, the social structures within this monarchy were not very stable and the differences between Hutus and Tutsis were only defined by class instead of ethnicity. For this reason, the ethnic division that the current government is trying to push to the background was not really visible in pre-colonial times. As it was mostly based on socio-economic difference, Hutus were able to become Tutsi when they improved their own economic situation (Mirzoeff 2005: 37).
The internal power structures that favored the Tutsis over other groups of people was not only consolidated under the colonial administrations of Germany (1885-1916) and Belgium (1916-1962). During these periods, the division between Hutu and Tutsi became
predominantly expressed as an ethnic one. This was based on the Hamitic myth, an example of scientific racism, formulated by the British explorer John Hanning in 1863:
According to this myth, Tutsi were descendents of Noah’s son Ham, who had been cursed by his father and set off to found a new race. Tutsi had thus migrated to Rwanda from Egypt or Abyssinia, unlike Hutu, who were considered ‘natives’. Despite the curse on Ham and his descendents (which, according to Europeans at the time, manifested itself by the blackness of their skin), Europeans still considered Tutsi to be intellectually and morally superior to Hutu and to Twa, a small in Rwanda. The Tutsi had, after all, descended from a great white father. (Applegate 2002: 80)
The idea of this myth was reinforced under Belgian rule in 1933 as they introduced identity cards that included a section stating if the person was Hutu, Tutsi or Twa. This law would prove vital in the creation of an ethnic division. When the colonial power decided to favor the Hutus in light of the approaching independence in the 1950s, the myth was used by Hutu nationalists within the narrative that would fit anti-Tutsi propaganda (Applegate 2002: 81).
In the thirty years after the country gained independence, the Hutu government led by President Geogoire Kayibanda, decided to marginalize the Tutsi population and turn them into ethnic scapegoats. This meant that within the newly formed republic, the Tutsis were systematically excluded from all influential positions, attributing to an economic depression in the early 1970s. The economic downfall made it possible for General Juvenal
Habyarimana to gain power through a coupe in 1973. The change in power was initially interpreted as a way of creating national unity and reforming the policy of the former president. Under Habyarimana’s rule, a Tutsi was also seated in Rwanda’s new parliament. However, this hopeful start of erasing the tensions of the past quickly turned as a one-party system was installed, aimed at the consolidating dominance of the President (Rubenstein 2004: 288). A part of the exiled Tutsis who were refused to reenter the country formed a resistance party called the Rwandan Patriotic Front in 1987. By 1990, this party had raised an army in Uganda and with the support of some Hutu dissidents, they tried to invade Rwanda in 1990. The invasion failed but resulted in a guerilla war which lasted until the signing of the Arusha Accords in 1993. Although the peace signing was officially a step towards a better future, the ultranationalist hardliners within the Hutu regime were increasing their
enunciation of the ethnic ideology in an attempt to secure their dominant position (Hintjens 1999: 241). This ideology was articulated as a patriotic battle to defend the country from evil Tutsis, externally and internally, and their message was spread through newspapers and the ultra-nationalist radio station Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines, better known as RTLM. Their influence was also visible in the Rwandan military which, with the support of
the French, grew from 5,000 soldiers at the start of the war to 40,000 by 1994. Apart from this growth, they also trained many paramilitary groups such as the infamous Interhamwe, all of whom were imbued with the hatred against Tutsis.
All of these different factors together created the situation of a ticking time bomb that would go off at the next best incident. On the 6th of April, the presidential airplane of
Habyarimana was shot down as it prepared to land in Kigali. Even though the identity of the perpetuators remains disputed until this day, the act was used by ultra-nationalists to rally up their forces and carry out the mass killings.
1.2 Trauma and representation
The concept of trauma refers to the psychological state in which a human subject experiences a disruption of their mental systems that would normally provide a person with a sense of control, connection and meaning. Human subjects commonly think of life as a narrative structure that consists of a past, present and future. In this way, it is possible to make meaning of life and one can think of acts in the past as well as the future that gives reference to the present moment of experience. But traumatic events can be so powerful that they are impossible to express through a narrative framework, resulting in a disrupted sense of time, which Ernst van Alphen has termed a failed experience (Van Alphen 1999: 26). The
extraordinary character of a traumatic event creates a strong and permanent change in the psychological condition of the subject on which it is inflicted, resulting in a split between the life before and after the experience. Van Alphen uses the Holocaust as the primary example to indicate how experience can be disrupted by the nature of trauma, as it is impossible to conceive the reality of the situation. Holocaust survivors were lacking any referential
framework to make meaning out of their suffering, or could not accept their position derived out of the last bit of perspective they had. And during the time inside the camps, they lost any reference to the past and future, because they were in an extreme situation, unknown of what was going to happen (Van Alphen 1999: 35). Due to the inability of storing the experiences like ‘normal’ memories, they are saved inside the mind differently, meaning that they are also being retrieved from the mind in another way, and this has been termed a traumatic memory.
The fact that these effects of trauma were not widely acknowledged until the end of the 20th century suggests how the history of this study has also been a much disrupted one.
According to psychologist Judith Herman, our current way of thinking about psychological trauma is constructed through three different lines of investigation that have been triggered
by different events in history (Herman 1994: 9). The diagnosis of women suffering from hysteria in the 19th century, the effects of the First World War on returning soldiers and the
women’s movement wave of the 1970s are considered to be those key moments. However, in all cases, the attention towards this study either faded or was not considered to be politically and morally correct. Sigmund Freud, for instance, contributed significantly to the field, but had to reshape his scope of investigation since there was no room for scientists that would open up a discussion regarding the rights of women or a critique against the military elite during World War One. For Herman, the political climate of the 1990s in the Western world which favored secular democracy, abolition of war and freedom of women, is considered to be of enormous importance in expanding this field of study (Herman 1994: 32).
The work of Herman is based on twenty years of interviewing numerous patients that have been exposed to a wide variety of traumatic experiences, and therefore contributed into a broadening scope on the different aspects that affect a traumatized subject. Some of the concepts that she has provided will also be deployed in the analysis of the four films while looking at how specific symptoms of trauma are being represented through the different characters. According to Herman, the symptoms connected to traumatic disorder can be categorized in three separate concepts (Herman 1994: 35). The first is called hyperarousal and reflects the persistent expectation of danger. This is usually the first stage of trauma which is characterized by a more intense reaction towards stimuli, which can range from quick irritation to poor sleeping conditions (Herman 1994: 36). The next concept is intrusion and signifies the great imprint of a traumatic moment. Even though the moment of danger has long passed, the experience is recurring within the subject as if it is a part of the present. Like Van Alphen already mentioned in his work, for Holocaust survivors, the liberation from the camps did not imply that their experience of the camp was also over. Instead, it became only more intense afterwards (Van Alphen 1999: 35). Finally, the third concept named
constriction is put forward to reflect upon the numbing response of surrender. The defining symptoms of constriction are more extreme because they do not only disrupt the normal sense of time but also a subject’s sense of reality. When a person has become so powerless, the only way to cope with it is through not accepting the reality of the situation (Herman 1999: 42). The concept of constriction will be of specific interest in the analysis of representations that depict the aftermath, to see in what ways a subject has to relive the moment of the
Rwandan Genocide and what this means for someone to have to deal with a traumatic history. The second part of Herman’s work focuses on the stages that a traumatized person has to be subjected to in order to have a possibility of recovering from the trauma. Successfully
fulfilling these steps creates a chance of more stability, as well as a reconnection to a ‘normal’ life, a connection that has been broken since the traumatic experience. It is argued that this recovery is based on the empowerment of the survivor and the creation of new connections which cannot be achieved in isolation (Herman 1994: 133). The stages that have to be completed are termed as safety, remembrance, and reconnection. The latest films on the Rwandan Genocide also deal with the aftermath of the event and the concepts of
remembrance and reconnection will be significant in evaluating how the collective trauma is being depicted through the language of film. An important factor that Herman also lists is the role of the community which has a powerful influence on the ultimate resolution of the trauma (Herman 1994: 70). Two separate responses of recognition and restitution are needed in order to reconstruct the survivor’s sense of order and justice. These forms of recovery will be considered in light of the policies that are being implemented by the national government of Rwanda. This issue of collective remembering is also at the core of media studies
professor Jose van Dijck’s work on mediated memories. She acknowledges the need for remembrance as it forms the foundation for a sense of past, present and future, which Herman also stresses on the individual level of trauma. The tension between individual and collective remembering is defined by Van Dijck as a site in which negotiation and struggle takes place because a subject is at once inclined to preserve personal memories for oneself, but also shares them within the public sphere (Van Dijck 2007: 13). This public collective
remembering has now become reflected through the term cultural, and cultural memory can only be recognized as a product of both the individual experience and its relationship with the experiences of others. This is also the case for traumatic memory, which is pointed out by Caruth. She signifies that like history, trauma is never just a part of one person. The trauma of one is always tight up with the trauma of another and therefore also leads to the encounter with another (Caruth 1996: 23). The films that will be analyzed also play their own distinctive role in creating a mediated memory of a past which is now more and more becoming a part of Western history. The Western World is starting to acknowledge the fact that we cannot see the Rwandan Genocide as a story of people who are all of a sudden exterminated in a place far away from the civilized world, and the only possible reason being the fact that it is a poor and African country. Kenneth Harrow, a professor of African Cinema and Literature, focuses on how to deconstruct a certain vocabulary that was being used at the time of the violence. He concludes that the most important misreading has to do with the exceptional moment of the genocide itself, which was in fact a very well organized and state planned initiative. Furthermore, the killings were not confined to one hundred days, there
were more states involved and it was not, above all, an African matter per se (Harrow 2005: 227). Consequently, a question aimed to be answered is if these films contribute into a broader understanding of the context of the genocide. This is also of interest when discussing issues of historiography, which will be done in the next section.
1.3 Film and history
The portrayal of the Rwandan Genocide in film is also the creation of an historical world. In this world, the personalized story of certain characters takes place, and this can be entirely fictional. The director has the opportunity to make certain choices that will define the look of the setting while simultaneously creating a specific sense regarding the off-screen
surrounding area. The way in which filmmakers create their cinematic worlds determines the possibility of how these films can contribute to a collective memory (Toplin 1996: 7). Filmic devices such as montage also provide the chance to construct images of memory within the narrative itself. In this way, the haunting memories or traumatic historical images that have shaped the characters in these films can be shown (Turim 1989: 235). Furthermore, the recollection of memory in cinema is a key factor in the uncovering of a character’s innermost thoughts. According to film studies professor Pam Cook, this quality of film is consequently often connected to trauma and history, which can have a therapeutic value since it triggers acts of remembrance (Cook 2005: 98). On an individual level, these acts are also noticed by Herman, who defined them as critical in the stage of recovery. In this light, the choices in filmic strategies that influence the construction of a certain historical setting will be elaborated, illustrating how they affect the portrayal of characters, and thus providing a specific representation of trauma.
The process of writing history is based on rules that have been shaped over thousands of years whereas filmmaking has only been there for little over a century. The rules that apply for historians have had a great influence on their attitude towards historical films, and are also the cause for many discussions regarding the role of a cultural artifact, such as film, that adds to our understanding of the past. The main criteria for history writing are based on
accumulating a broad scope on the available evidence, performing a clear and accurate examination of this evidence and try to come up with assumptions resulting from the
accumulated findings, without a personal agenda getting involved (Davis 2000: 5). According to these standards, the films central to this thesis project would not be of significant value because they all portray certain core events that happened during the Rwandan Genocide, but
mostly in a dramatized version that would not fit if the purpose was to make it look like the exact events. Even so, over the last two decades, several scholars such as Tony Barta and Robert Brent Toplin, who also have a background within the field of history, made a clear argument in favor of films that depict a dramatized version of an historical episode. One of the ways to support their critiques is by pointing to the field and discipline of history. As Barta argues, historians now know that they too engage with the past which is formed from a current day perspective, one that is above all based on interpretation. These reflections of the past are also a process that may change in meaning as new perspectives can shed a different light on the evidence at hand (Barta 1998: 15). This supports the argument that every medium can provide a specific way of interpreting the past.
As we all know, the historical film as seen by the spectator is the final product that has been shaped by its makers until they were satisfied. It is therefore always a product of subjective choice. The images will always be an invention to a certain extent even if they can symbolize actual events (Sorlin 1980: 10). Furthermore, as a site of negotiation, historical films can reflect upon the present (Toplin 1996: 20). This means that the historical setting created of the Rwandan Genocide can shed light on how these films comment on the contemporary view of the situation in Rwanda. As professor of sociology in audiovisual media Pierre Sorlin suggests, looking at the structural patterns within a film indicates how its history works and what interpretation of the past and present is revealed. Because it can show how the traumatic experience of the Rwandan people is being approached from the present, it could also reflect on the current policy of the national government.
Using a dramatized version of history to engage in a wider discourse is being
supported by Barta as he claims that historical films do not have to replicate the past in order to produce knowledge. Creating some distance from the historical world through dramatic measures actually makes it more accessible to examine this site of negotiation. This is presented as a paradox of history because we must turn the unfamiliar into the familiar in order to grasp its meaning (Barta 1998: 12). To analyze the ways in which this historical world is being constructed, I will point to the work of Rosenstone. Like Barta, he stresses the importance of not evaluating the filmic artifact as if it were a written document on a historical episode. The historical film is a visual form of history and is based on different sets of rules. Thus, it creates another version of the historical truth, just as the written word also did on paper. The issue for Rosenstone is the question of whether it is possible to tell these historical stories on film without losing any professional grip on the matter at hand (Rosenstone 1995: 24). Successfully conveying such a story is based on the presentation of evidence that can be
open to multiple interpretations and the creation of a historical world full of real life
complexities, instead of a self-enclosed linear story. This shows how the area is still a site of debate. Still, there are a few distinct filmic elements that have a clear effect on constructing a particular historical world. First of all, the concept of compression refers to the process by which a certain major historical event is being represented through relatively small scenes or a group of people by a single person. For example, in the case of Rwanda, the mass killings or the ethnic category of Hutu could be portrayed on a smaller level through the use of only a single character, object or setting. This concept is also related to condensation which applies to the written or filmic history in which a small selection is made to express the collective experience of a larger group. Alteration, like the term already implies, is the modification of certain historical realities by the filmmaker in order to make a larger historical point. The fourth concept termed metaphor relates to techniques of symbolization that show how certain images are meant to portray abstract statements (Rosenstone 2006: 38). These four concepts will be used in order to analyze the historical worlds created in all four films.
As it will be pointed out in the next section, the Rwandan Genocide is commonly defined by several key moments, all part of a master narrative. The events within this master narrative are all known to have taken place, but the portrayal in images can be open to interpretation. The question that remains is what elements are being picked, or left out, and for what reason? What do these depictions of the past in the films mean for the representation of the experience of trauma? And how does it articulate the contemporary way of dealing with the genocide, as it is aimed by the government of Rwanda?
1.4 Methods and aims
The general aim of the following chapters is to produce an extensive view on the
representation of trauma by providing a close reading of the films, analyzing the depiction history and reflecting on the political context of Rwanda. Simultaneously, the role of the medium as a tool to depict trauma will be considered, and potentially, its ability to work through the traumatic experience. The analysis is split into four different chapters, all dealing with a particular film. Each of them will be engaged on the basis of narrative elements, stylistic choices regarding cinematography, mise en scène or music, and different concepts that have been elaborated in the rest of the theoretical framework. This will mainly include the different stages of trauma as explained by Herman, as well as Van Alphen’s failed experience, the language of trauma in the work of Caruth, and the cinematic elements to
construct history in film provided by Rosenstone. All in all, the analysis of trauma and the function of depicting history will demonstrate the changing articulation of the memorial politics as composed by the Kagame administration.
In his work on the representation of the Rwandan Genocide in literature as well as films, associate professor of Francophone studies Dauge-Roth argues that all films are built upon a master narrative of which one or more elements are always taken and used to serve as building blocks for the story being displayed. This master narrative consists of certain key moments that dominate the historical discourse surrounding the genocide (Dauge-Roth 2010: 192). It starts with the pre-colonial period when there was a Rwandan Kingdom in which all the future ethnic categories of Hutu, Tutsi and Twa were living peacefully together along with other groups. This ended with the German invasion during the late 19th century, a time
when Christianity was also being spread throughout the country by European priests. The rest of the master narrative consists of specific dates such as the 1931 decision by the Belgian rulers to initiate identity cards that specified ethnic division, until the victory of RPF troops at the end of the violence in July 1994. The selection and interpretation of these elements within the master narrative will also be used to explain the construction of the historical world in every film. Additionally, Dauge-Roth also emphasizes four emblematic figures commonly occurring within these narratives, all of whom are characters that are in some way confronted by the protagonist(s) and are given a certain position through the relationship with the
protagonist(s). They are known as the evil figure, the liberating figure, the righteous figure and the muzungu figure, the latter being a Westerner who is overwhelmed by the events and has problems understanding its complexity (Dauge-Roth 2010: 190). The appearance of such figures in these films will lead to a careful elaboration of their function in regard to the representation of trauma.
The first chapter of the analysis will be on Hotel Rwanda (T. George, 2004) and since this film has already achieved a great deal of attention, a fruitful review written by Anthere Nzabatsinda will be used to enunciate my perspective on the construction of the historical world. Nzabatsinda stated that there are four narrative elements shown in the film that makes it valuable for understanding the Rwandan Genocide (Nzabatsinda 2005: 234). By using these four core messages, I shall point to the creation of a constant mode of shock that reflects upon the need for security in the Rwanda of 2004. The second chapter focuses on Sometimes in April (R. Peck, 2005), which, in contrast to Hotel Rwanda, provides a broader scope on the aftermath of the traumatic experience. Herman’s concept of constriction will be used to signify certain states of powerlessness that have the effect on characters to act
according to different defensive mechanisms. For the protagonist, the negotiation with the past is needed in order to move on and obtain some freedom from this constrictiveness. The different approach of time will be linked to the former debate regarding the justice system, a high priority in Rwanda’s public agenda of the previous decade. The third chapter will analyze the film Munyurangabo (L. I. Chung, 2007) and sheds more light on the effects of the reconciliation policy. The analysis of the historical perspective in the film will also reframe some of the arguments made in the work of senior film lecturer Leshu Torchin, who takes up the question of witnessing by media in films, set in the Balkans and Rwanda during the extremely violent 1990s. The combination of these elements will point to how the film is used to depict the outcome of a policy that denies its people to come to terms with its past, and therefore stresses the governments obligation of creating more room for different voices. For the final chapter, the latest release focusing on the Rwandan Genocide will be analyzed. In Kinyarwanda (A. Brown, 2011), the specific issue of closure will be addressed. In their work on public criminology and collective memory, associate professor of sociology
Michelle Brown and professor of criminology Nicole Rafter use the term closure as a means to reveal how certain memories are stored when they relate to criminal acts. As the film deals extensively with questions of forgiveness, the acts of violence are being evaluated and can either be part of legal closure that occurs through a juristic process or an ongoing closure which relates to the process of memory (Brown and Rafter 2013: 1029). Furthermore, the historical setting is used as a site of projecting the future, resulting in an evaluative reading of Kagame’s developing political legacy.
2.
Hotel Rwanda (T. George, 2004)
Ten years after the Rwandan Genocide, Irish director Terry George finished the task of making a drama film which is based on the true events of hotelier Paul Rusesabagina (Don Cheadle). As a coproduction between the United Kingdom, Canada, Italy and South Africa, Hotel Rwanda was aimed to be an international success. It has been highly acclaimed by critics and even enjoyed the comparison of being the Schindler’s List in the context of Rwanda’s history, generating a feeling of shame for those bystanders who cannot escape the idea that inaction has major consequences (Torchin 2012: 127). However, some critics have also pointed to its shortcomings, such as the simplified representation of individual
characters, allowing them to be only part of two different categories, namely Hutu suppressor or Tutsi victim (Sakota-Kakot 2013: 217).
2.1 Context and narrative
The narrative is set just a few days before the start of the Rwandan Genocide. Rusesabagina is the manager of the Hôtel des Mille Collines in Rwanda’s capital city of Kigali. This is a luxury resort that hosts a lot of Western guests and is also owned by a Belgian company. His problematic position in regard to the national context of ethnic division is shown when he is introduced. While being a Hutu businessman who is not very much involved in politics, he cannot escape the growing tensions around him. The fact that his wife Tatiana (Sophie Okonedo) is a Tutsi makes it a personal matter that also involves his children, who are considered to be enemies within the Hutu extremist narrative that categorizes all Tutsi descendants to be Tutsi as well. At the same time, Rusesabagina is involved with several Hutu extremists like local Interhamwe leader Georges Rutaganda (Hakeem Kae-Kazeem), a supplier of goods to the hotel, but who clearly supports the ultranationalists. Rutaganda is the personification of the evil figure which is the product of the ethnic narrative that has been constructed in Rwandan history since the days of colonization. Even though these people are expressing opinions that ask for a response, Rusesabagina is not interested in attributing to the discussion, and views the situation as yet another Rwandan period of tension, which will pass over time. However, when the triggering moment of the attack on Habyarimana’s presidential plane is spread by the radio, Rusesabagina literarily has to face the reality of the genocide while riding along the streets of Kigali, that have been transformed into a deadly
field of roadblocks, used by military and militia to monitor all traffic and ethnically cleanse them from Tutsis.
The majority of the film takes place within the secluded area of the hotel, which seems to be an island within the setting of the mass violence. But inside the hotel, the
different characters all add to an understanding of what is happening outside. The mixture of these characters embodies the complexity of historical tensions which gained its actual shape in the destructive effects all around the country (Dauge-Roth 2010: 190). But more
importantly and specific for the way in which Hotel Rwanda articulates this trauma, all of the characters add to the distinct style that represents a persistent danger.
2.2 The style of persistent danger
The occurring symptoms of the three groups that Herman has termed as hyperarousal, intrusion and constriction, can never be exactly predicted since the nature of trauma is not a fixed one (Herman 1994: 33). However, through analyzing the psychological effects, the understanding of the infliction of pain has constructive effects in a future recovery. Films can all represent the explicit events of the genocide which are the cause for the trauma, but the way of portraying it through characters, objects and other cinematic language is open to endless interpretations. In this section it will be argued that Hotel Rwanda establishes a mode of constant danger which is expressed through the characters who display symptoms of hyperarousal. The style of the film contributes to the loss of security, while also constructing a general belief that human beings, despite their situation, should always consider the effects of not responding to the acts that unfold around them.
Usually, the human response to a situation of danger is a complex system of reactions. Treats develop an immediate response which can be visible through a feeling of an adrenaline rush that causes other feelings such as pain or hunger to temporarily disappear, since this state of alertness blocks the normal systems. The indications of hyperarousal are visible through the reactionary character that exists within emotion, cognition and memory (Herman 1994: 35). The state of alertness which was present at the moment of infliction can return shortly afterwards in the form these reactions. Frightening or surprising responses to unexpected stimuli are typical forms of occurrence.
One of the opening scenes in Hotel Rwanda depicts a meeting between Rusesabagina and Rutaganda at a warehouse while discussing a new order of beer to be delivered at the hotel. The level of tension increases as their conversation is interrupted by a box that falls of
a riding fork truck. The box is broken and the machetes which were hidden inside are now displayed at the center of the room. Rutaganda continues the conversation by regarding the machete as a cheap working tool from China, while Rusesabagina and Dube (Desmond Dube) are both aroused by what they have just seen. The machetes are in the center of the room, with the characters all around the broken box, responding to the objects differently, but acknowledging their significance. This typical mise en scène device of figure placement combined with the movement around the object of the machete, functions as a way to reinforce the approaching sphere of danger (Pramaggiore and Wallis 2008: 100). All
characters are placed in such a way that makes them subordinate to what dominates the room, implying an inevitable faith for all of them, even though the objects cannot function as weapons without human interaction (Image 1 and 2). The effect of the encounter is already visible when Rusesabagina and Dube are driving back to the hotel. They are witnessing an Interhamwe rally in which children are also carrying fake wooden guns. Dube’s first response is to hide inside the car. His earlier encounter with the machete is connected to the objects displayed at the rally. These opening scenes are clearly setting the tone for the expectancy of danger that will be constantly articulated throughout the next two hours of the film.
The state of shock is taken to a more intense level when Rusesabagina returns home on the night of the assassination of President Habyarimana, which triggered the start of the genocide. When he arrives, several neighbors have fled to his house because they fear a possible capture by Hutu forces and only trust him. However, his son Roger (Ofentse
Modiselle) is gone and turns up hiding in the garden bushes. His extremely startling reaction when his father finds him, as well as his inability to move, indicates that he has been exposed to the outside danger. The personal intensity of this situation is also signified in a later scene where Roger is again the only one of the family who is hiding in the face of a possible treat. When Rusesabagina has to bribe an army official during their escape to the hotel, the responsive character of Roger is also starting to affect the stability of his own state of mind. His capabilities of verbally explaining the situation of Rwanda in ways that have calmed his family or Dube are losing ground in the face of possible terror (Image 3 and 4). The recurring score of music composer Andrea Guerra’s Children found, a dramatic song in which
Rwandan children are asking when they will see the sun again, is a powerful tool to illustrate the loss of faith. It is used in three specific instances where a symbolic feeling of security for the people in the hotel is lost, and their endangering situation is strengthened. The use of this theme during those scenes not only shapes a strong emotional conflict of the characters, but
also connects it to the historical context of the role as bystander that was fulfilled by the international community (Pramaggiore and Wallis 2008: 261).
The acknowledgement of the outside treats by Rusesabagina also takes shape as the film continues, resulting in a worsening sleeping pattern at first, while also triggering him to take more and more precautions during the daytime. The actual breaking point of his
emotional state exemplifies the style of persistent danger because it is at this point where the constant fear is being replaced by the cause of the inflicted fear. The specific scene shows how Rusesabagina and Gregoire (Tony Kgoroge) are driving on a suburban road and
eventually end up in a street full of corpses. The misty weather creates the effect of a curtain that is being pulled around the characters that will not be able to forget what they are
experiencing. Back at the hotel, Rusesabagina collapses into tears when he is struck by the disguise of normality constructed through the setting of the hotel room. His character expresses the symbolic wall that has to absorb the danger from outside so that it will not spread through the hotel.
As the film reaches its final moments in which the hotel is left by all the remaining refugees including the Rusesabagina family, the constant style of danger is replaced by the actual portrayal of it. However, in doing so, it also underlines the simplicity by which the final message of the film embodies a notion of good versus evil. The emblematic figures that have been signified are literally forcing each other out of the frame as the RPF soldiers manage to save the refugees at the hands of the incoming Interhamwe (Dauge-Roth 2010: 191). Next to that, the additional featuring of Pat Archer (Cara Seymour) becomes yet another signifier of the muzungu figure who still does not know what to make of the things happening around her. As a British Red Cross worker, she seems to be constantly wandering around Kigali during the killings. Even though other forms of international help have
diminished, Pat keeps coming back to the hotel in brief instances, with children who she saved from the dangerous streets. Despite successfully getting them out of harm’s way, which is not shown on screen, Pat’s inability to take decisions at the hotel disguises the skills and bravery that enabled her to save the children. Her function as the unknowing Westerner becomes fixed during the very end when she is still showing signs of fear, while the
Rusesabagina’s are in a euphoric state after finding some family members in a refugee camp. Because Paul casually reclaims the position as protector of his family while refusing the concerns expressed by Pat, the persistence by which the danger was always presents seems to have become normality.
2.3 Elements of historical shock
The narrative construction of the overarching situation inside the hotel is argued to be
providing a framework for what happened all over Rwanda in 1994 (Nzabatsinda 2005: 235). These include four core elements which together also form the strength of the film. In the following section, these elements will be used to signify how Hotel Rwanda constitutes an historical setting with the effect of representing the genocide as a constant mode of shock. First of all, the heroism of the individual figure unwilling to act passively in the face of terror is mentioned. Even though Rusesabagina is the eventual hero claimed to be
responsible for saving over one thousand people at the hotel, there are also implications which signify his silent role in setting the ground for the killings to unfold. For instance, his relationship with Rutaganda is clearly one of pure business, but the thoughts and plans of this Interhamwe leader are clearly displayed to the hotelier. Instead of countering the statements which he clearly understands in regard of the national context, he chooses not to face the changing reality of his surroundings. This indicates a clear criticism of the same passiveness which is later articulated by the Western bystanders when the carnage has officially started. His switch towards actively saving people is being triggered through the clear and present danger his family faces. This fictional invention of history is typical for the engagement with a certain discourse surrounding the Rwandan Genocide. It creates a relationship with the past that conveys the understanding of how any form of indifference, despite of the underlying intention, has the ability to feed a hate-based narrative, which in this case is not only aimed at the ethnic cleansing of a people, but also in the empowerment of their own truth.
Paradoxically, Rusesabagina sometimes has to withhold information about what he has seen outside, in order for the people in the hotel to remain calm.
The second element Nzabatsinda has pointed to is the indistinctive effect of the genocide on the entire population of Rwanda. Establishing the historical record of an entire people being affected requires a master narrative to provide the spectator with a larger picture of the things that take place off screen. Historical audio footage during the opening credits of the RTLM radio station is one of the ways to construct a nationwide scale of the violence, as the radio can also be considered the most powerful medium in the country, because the majority of the people own this device instead of a television (Torchin 2012: 126). When one of the national radio stations is openly targeting an ethnic group with the language of hate as a tool for rallying up the people, the scope of the event is widened. Even though this is a Western form of telling a Rwandan story, this sort of condensation allows the spectator to
interpret the larger discourse through a small scene (Toplin 1996: 9). It only shows a fraction of what RTLM spread through the ether, but it captures the intensity and language by which the people of Rwanda were addressed. Furthermore, the actual naming of certain key
moments is also a way of including more than what is seen on screen. In order for the
spectator to make sense of historical referents, the protagonists provide a source of evidence. Rusesabagina functions as the guide who gets in contact with the devastating effects of the genocide, as he occasionally leaves the hotel, and witnesses what could happen if he does not maintain his role as protector. In terms of visual support of the claim on the nationwide effects, the incorporation of certain figures that express a set of ideas prove to be helpful in Hotel Rwanda. One example of this is General Bizimungu (Fana Mokoena), who is the personification of all that is wrong with the Rwandan Army. On the one hand, he commands a group of soldiers who are told to massacre people on grounds of being Tutsis. While on the other hand, he also disregards the message of his superiors by giving into bribes in return for a blind eye towards Tutsis being sheltered inside the hotel. This actually makes a stronger case for the problem of mankind in situations of terror. The opportunity of personal gain is placed above any other principle which Bizimungu might have had. These particular interactions inside the hotel are a form of compression to symbolize the larger historical discourse of how small actions could have major effects (Rosenstone 1995: 74).
The next core element as proclaimed in Nzabatsinda’s review has to do with the chances of survival. The film is hailed for its portrayal of survival as a pure matter of luck. Such a claim is always a problematic one when it comes to historically achieving a certain point within the format of a two hour long film. Despite this practical matter, all historical films are fictional and a personal look creates the identification that helps one to understand the version of history which is trying to be conveyed by the film. As a spectator, you are obviously very likely to be identifying with the protagonists of the story. For Hotel Rwanda, the survival of Rusesabagina’s family is therefore the best indicator for the claim on luck. However, there are several signals implicating that the position of Rusesabagina as a Hutu hotel manager already obtained him a great step ahead of the average Rwandan. Actually, the privileged position of everyone in the hotel is exposed when the guests are asked to contact their family oversees (Sakota-Kokot 2013: 228). Even so, learning about what happened to side characters such as his friends Thomas and Fedens reveal how people around him were not so lucky.
The fourth and final element is aimed at the role of the international community, claimed to be presented as being indifferent to the seriousness of the unfolding situation. This
is shown through the portrayal of several Western figures of power, who are constantly made aware of the situation, but are not able to provide any serious help. There are also implicit references made in the portrayal of certain objects that help shape the idea that their traumatic past is also part of the Western past. When Rusesabagina and Dube are driving through the streets of Kigali on the day before Habyarimana’s plane is shot down, they pass a massive billboard that has the text ‘So far yet so near’ written on it (Image 5). This message refers to the complexity of the past which has resulted in the current situation of tension. When the international community was already aware of a possible outbreak of extreme violence, Rwanda was considered to be a distant place, where the West would not be able to intervene, or have any responsibility. The film is reinforcing the need of a greater awareness in regard to the past, raising the issue of the colonial influences that had a profound effect on the creation of an ethnic binary between Hutus and Tutsis (Rubenstein 2004: 286). The effectiveness of Hotel Rwanda in raising this awareness could be argued when one considers the increasing amount of books and texts written on the subject over the past decade (Tadjo 2010: 380). 2.4 Visualizing attention
The analysis of Hotel Rwanda has shown how the trauma of the Rwandan Genocide is represented through a style of persistent danger. Furthermore, by means of creating an historical setting which is characterized by a constant mode of shock, the particular role of bystander is being addressed as universally problematic, since every form of inaction in the face of terror can have devastating results. These conclusions can be seen as a direct response to the political climate of the Rwandan administration in the years directly after the genocide. As the following section will elaborate, the thought of keeping the attention focused on the process of restoration is highly prioritized in Hotel Rwanda, as well as the need for security. And this need is also a reflection upon the political tensions that were present when the film was made.
In the years following the Rwandan Genocide, the help from the international
community spread throughout the country, with all kinds of different initiatives being set up, from building new roads, to training future teachers. Whether these were groups operating from external governments or under the umbrella of international NGO’s, many of them were considered to have an impact that reaches a lot further than the mandate they had prior to the violence (Uvin 2001: 177). These acts were part of a larger aim by the international
about the situation in Rwanda. During this period, the transitional Government of National Unity was led by President Pasteur Bizimungu, with Paul Kagame as Vice President in an already powerful position. This government, which consisted of many former RPF
commanders, was not so much focused on building a democracy, but more in favor of aiming towards stability (Uvin 2001: 180). As the direct aftermath of the genocide was still in progress, this path of the government could hardly be contested, let alone the fact the
international community had not been responsive in the first place when it was most needed. Furthermore, the tensions that were spread through the region by the Second Congo War until 2003 made a strong case for the political agenda to be focused on the security of the
Rwandan people. A great deal of the former Rwandan military and Interhamwe militia, who fled after the killings, were believed to be holding up in the Eastern part of the Congo, close to the Rwandan border and still organized. These post-genocide threats of perpetuator groups and the fact that the RPF was the only powerful force available in the country created a politics marked by militarization (Sidiropoulos, 2002: 78).
Within this context, it can be suggested that Hotel Rwanda uses the aesthetic qualities of film to its fullest extent, not only in favor of acknowledging the traumatic memory of the genocide as such, but also to provoke a renewed attention in the ongoing process of securing the people of Rwanda. The film produces a liveliness of past episodes which could not be portrayed in other forms of telling a story, which also points to the visual power of the medium. Even though Hotel Rwanda does not construct a very broad sense of history that leaves room for very many readings, it does strengthen its position of conveying this sense of danger. And in light of the situation in 2004, the invented historical world provided a strong meaning for the reflection upon the present (Rosenstone 1995: 49). The formation of a basic referential framework shapes a sense of history and place, which in turn, contributes in constructing a collective memory of the Rwandan Genocide (Jordan and Weedon 2012: 144). The absence of the international community during the actual events is filled by an
experience that calls upon a chance of redemption, though acknowledging the need for attention. The representation of Western journalists in Hotel Rwanda is characterizing for this process by which the film gives an expression of the extreme. The difficulty in giving
expression to this can be found in the split between the actual event and the forms by which one can experience them afterwards (Van Alphen 1999: 27). The fact they have obtained footage of the slaughter points to how the film as a whole, has the ability of producing a representation of the experience the Rwandan people had to endure, without the rest of the
world being present. Whether the historical framework would have been tiny or extensive, for Hotel Rwanda, it is the visual quality of the medium that makes its message so powerful.
3.
Sometimes in April (R. Peck, 2005)
One year after the premiere of Hotel Rwanda, the Haitian filmmaker Raoul Peck finished his work Sometimes in April, which was originally distributed by HBO Films, a division of the cable television network that produces films directly for television as well as theatrical releases. The film is coproduced in France and the United States and has been positively received for laying more focus on the political background of the genocide compared to Hotel Rwanda (Dauge-Roth 2010: 207), and also in light of countering certain approaches used in the previous film. Critics have implied that using a Rwandan cast and setting instead of a South African gives it a more legitimate trademark. Next to that, the complex tensions between the main characters is also signified as a marker of a stronger case in terms of portraying the events, whereas George’s film created a more simplified feeling of Hutu versus Tutsi (Rwafa 2010: 406).
3.1 Context and narrative
The narrative is centered on two brothers who are both introduced one decade after the Rwandan Genocide. Augustin Muganza (Idris Elba), a former captain in the Rwandan Army, is portrayed as a current school teacher, who is still struggling with the loss of his wife and their three children. His brother Honoré Butera (Oris Erhuero) is also struggling with his past, but has to face his own wrongdoings as he is being tried by the International Criminal
Tribunal of Rwanda for his involvement in rallying up the people through the radio station RTLM. While they are both Hutu’s, the extremity of the growing the situation surpasses both their own actions as well as their intentions, and shape both their past as well as their future. In a two and a half hour journey that moves back and forth between 1994 and 2004, the tragic faith of Augustin’s family is slowly unfolded while simultaneously portraying Honoré’s role from sympathizer, to perpetuator until the point where he is trying to face his own
involvement. The third and final key character is Martine (Pamela Nomvete), who used to be a schoolteacher at a Catholic School for girls, where Augustin’s daughter attended. Despite an attempt by the military to massacre all the people who were part of the school, Martine survived and would meet her future husband Augustin because the death of his daughter connected the two.
The depiction of two different time periods creates a different representation of the traumatic experience as compared to Hotel Rwanda. Even though ten years have passed, the
mental wound has marked Rwanda in such a way that the genocide is seen as a freezing moment in time. The ability of film to move through time facilitates the bridge between 1994 and 2004, enabling the survivors to portray distinct features of constriction. Furthermore, the interaction between the historical setting and the present within the narrative also signifies how time is not experienced in the ‘normal’ way after the infliction of trauma.
3.2 The construction of powerlessness
For survivors, the initial period after their traumatic experience could usually be described by returning to daily routines. At first, it seems as if the previous ‘normal’ life can be picked up again. When the trusted area of subjects is appearing to be same as before, and the people around them support their efforts to start a new life, this period of deceptive recovery can last for quite some time. Even though they are well aware of what has happened, the actual symptoms of trauma may still be invisible, because it takes longer to be noticed. This period between the infliction of trauma and the start of the first symptoms of repressed memories has been termed the incubation period (Caruth 1996: 17). The nature of the traumatic experience was impossible to be fully comprehended at the time, and therefore the belated experience comes back in different forms, all of which are forcing the subject to confront the past and relive the events that have been suppressed during the period of incubation. As Van Alphen also mentioned, even though the death camps only exist in memorials or museums, the experience of it continues for survivors, as the continuity of normal life has been broken inside the camps (Van Alphen 1999: 35). The dominant factor within Herman’s concept of constriction is the numbing response of surrender (Herman 1994: 42). It signifies the state in which a subject is completely powerless and may enter a condition characterized by a total inability to function. Instead of taking action to confront the past, a person may build up defensive mechanisms to block the reality around them. Depending on the intensity of the trauma, it may also harm their ability to critically judge various situations in daily life as well as making sense of time. Although these effects are clearly harmful on the quality of life, the distortion of reality is actually part of the defensive mechanism that protects a subject from a reality which is even harder to comprehend. Once a subject starts experiencing the symptoms of constriction, it becomes clear that the reality of the moment in which the trauma was inflicted, is still part of daily life and is experienced as if it is still happening in the present. The repetitive nature of trauma makes it an uncompleted experience, which will be coming back to survivors until it has obtained a meaningful and peaceful place inside their memory.
In this section, it will be argued that the main characters in Sometimes in April express constrictive symptoms through a dissolving time gap between the violence and the present moment which is supposedly ten years later. In numerous instances, this gap is erased by the trauma of the violence which means that time has been standing still for those who have not found the ability of giving the genocide a place within their own narrative. The choices in creating certain visual details through mise en scène and cinematography contribute to the mood of pain which symbolizes a subject’s powerlessness within the state of constriction.
The first way to show how time cannot break a person loose of their own past is signified through Augustin’s connection with the rainy reason. When he is first introduced as a current schoolteacher who has a close tie to his students, his mind is soon distracted when the rain comes pouring down. While the children are playing in the schoolyard, the images that frame Augustin as he looks into the sky reveal a heavy tension in his mental state of being (Image 6). In terms of mise en scène, the composition of the frame creates a contrast with the rain in front of him (Pramaggiore and Wallis 2008: 113). Even though he remains dry on the porch, he cannot escape the drops that are falling down all over Rwanda. The rainy reason that has started reminds him of that particular season ten years ago, while
simultaneously signifying the scale of the events, because the weather is also influential across the entire country, and has no boundaries. Furthermore, the immense scale of the rain also connects his state of being to a feeling of powerlessness, as Augustin cannot do anything except for looking into the drops and being reminded of the powerlessness when he was still a captain in the Rwandan army. In the case of Augustin, these symbolic connections between past and present are reinforced in various moments of everyday life. His view on a broken swing can trigger the emotional pain of his dying children, while the supposedly wonderful news of becoming a father again also brings back the loss of others (Image 7 and 8). This shows how trauma is not confined to moments of actual pain and cannot be controlled as it is able to find all kinds of ways to keep control over a subject. Too strengthen this constrictive feeling, the film also makes use of the same symbolic details when portraying the past moment of 1994. When Augustin and Honoré are heavily discussing the tense situation of Rwanda a few days before the start of the killings, the brothers are simultaneously trying to fix a car. Several close ups are visible to show the tools which are used to fix the engine, but because they are both speaking differently about the political situation, they do not succeed. First of all, the car symbolizes the helplessness of Augustin as he is unable to fix a broken car as well as a broken relationship with his brother that is surpassed by the binary articulated through the propaganda of the Hutu regime. And secondly, it also signifies how a different
language is needed for people who are suffering from trauma. One cannot fix the pain of a traumatized person if the language to heal is failing to connect with the survivor (Herman 1994: 133).
The character of Martine represents another side of constriction which is
characterized by the inability to move forward, while the world around her has definitely changed. This contrast is presented during instances where she is confronted with the remembrance of others, but refuses to do so herself (Image 9). Again, mise en scène devices are used to strengthen this particular mode of powerlessness. While Martine is walking away from the Catholic School where she experienced the killings of most of her students, the camera switches back and forth between a typical gacaca trial in which perpetuators stand face to face with the people they hurt in the past.2 While the people at this trial in Sometimes in April remain unknown, the woman who is able to testify has the exact same clothes as Martine, indicating how this person does have the ability to narrate her experience. The scene also contributes to the isolated position of Martine, a position from which it is impossible to reconnect with the normal life like the people sitting in the field (Herman 1994: 135).
Whereas Hotel Rwanda only deepened the perspective of characters who were being victimized, Sometimes in April also focuses on the trauma of the perpetuators. The complex relationship between Augustin and his brother Honoré is a typical for this approach, and also points to the idea that these traumatic encounters are most likely happening all across
Rwanda. Even so, as a perpetuator, the ambiguous position of Honoré is actually the only element in the film that constructs a form of hope in regard of the constrictive form of trauma. When he worked for RTLM, Honoré showed that the politicization of language played a significant role in distorting the reality of the acts that were taking place in the country (Rwafa 2010: 400). Because the mass killings were masked by a wide variety of vocabularies, it also allowed the possibility to form many different versions of the events. Just as the other characters, Honoré cannot live his current life without the reality of 1994 being present. However, his former job as radio broadcaster ironically provided him the skills which are required in the present. The daily routine of speaking to the Rwandan people through the RTLM radio station, which was filled with language to promote the genocide, makes it possible for Honoré to narrate his traumatic experience, in which Augustin’s family
22 This form of trial was officially introduced by the Rwandan Government in 2001, when it became clear that
the conviction of all genocide suspects in a courtroom would take decades to process. Originally, this Rwandan court system was used to settle disputes on a local level, allowing the elders of a community to judge the wrongdoings of people within their own village. Therefore, the government not only promoted the system as a way to speed things up, but more importantly, as a means to create unity and reconciliation.
