War and Peace

What do you see when you watch or read stories about Africa in the news?* Recently you may have been following the stories of political turmoil and deadly violence in South Sudan and Central African Republic (CAR), or perhaps your attention was captured by last month’s tribute to the life and peace advancements of Nelson Mandela. The contrast of these events in particular has made very real to me the importance of the work happening in our Peace department at EPJ. For a nation like Chad, with a long history of civil war and a fairly recent history of peace, there is a great deal of healing, relationship-building, and education needed to ensure that a new generation of Chadians can leave past conflicts in the oral history books. Today, Chadian Muslims and Christians seem to share a relatively peaceful coexistence, but the barriers of ignorance, prejudice and intolerance are clearly present and accounted for, always carrying the potential to rekindle past conflict. Despite such a complex challenge, EPJ’s peace building strategy is remarkably simple. Find the people from various camps who are likely to be the most influential (religious leaders, women, and youth), bring them together to learn non-violent, conflict resolution skills, and provide a context for them to get to know one another as people. And so it happened that even while deadly Muslim/Christian clashes were escalating in the CAR and the songs dedicated to Madiba’s peace achievements were resonating around the world, I found myself in rural, southern Chad – roughly 100km on the peaceful side of the CAR boarder – hanging out with thirty or so influential priests, imams, and pastors from across Chad. Our goal? Simply to help dissipate the kinds of political/religious tensions that divide our Centrafricaine neighbours, and continue building the culture of peace to which Nelson Mandela devoted his life.

This week-long workshop began with a healthy dose of Chadian pomp and ceremony, and a presentation by Souina Potiphar (Secretary General of Protestant Churches in Chad), who had some pretty clear ground-rules for our religious authorities:

“We are not here to discuss theology,” exclaimed Potiphar.

“We are not here to call one another to the other’s religion.

We are not here to combine our doctrines together to create something new.

No!

We are here to learn how to share life together.

We have to live together,

so what kinds of relationships will we develop?

…In working for peace, if this week we can form friendships between priests, pastors, and imams, that is already a strength.”

As Potiphar spoke these words, I looked around the room and wondered about the reality of the religious divide. I am a far cry from a religious scholar, but it didn’t take one to noticed that the religious leaders were even divided physically, sitting in three relatively distinct groups. At meal times they generally clumped together with the friends they had come with… but, they had all come. Perhaps just sitting in the same room and sleeping in the same guest house was an important first step.

The first day of the workshop continued to set the context and elicit buy-in from our participants. We wanted them to understand that despite differences in tradition, doctrine, and lifestyle, the need for peace is something that we all share. What’s more, working for peace is a task that requires everyone’s collaboration. “Without peace, no project of development can happen. In times of war, nothing functions – no markets, no schools, no industry, no livelihoods, we can’t even eat. There is nothing but war” (Victor Dogos, head of EPJ Peace). In his presentation, Victor spoke at length about the reality of living in a war zone and in this crowd of elders and religious leaders, what a vivid and well-known image that must be. Having highlighted the numerous consequences of war, Victor concluded his talk with a reminder to the attendees of the immense level of collective influence they have in Chadian society. “Peace is not an option, but an obligation for inter-religious leaders.”

There was significant time for the participants to engage with one another. Some early discussions included the naming of stereotypes and stigmas that each group held regarding the other groups’ customs and beliefs. The conversations were surprisingly blunt! These people were not at all preoccupied with being politically correct towards other groups, nor did they seem at all surprised or offended by the accusations on their own faith. Instead they patiently took turns explaining the truth and intentions behind their own rules and customs. There was a clear emphasis on the need to understand one another. “We’re afraid of what we don’t know” said Victor at the end of one such discussion. “There are no verses in either of our sacred texts that encourage us to take part in violence and war. It’s only the extremists from one side or the other who interpret our texts in this way…. we must accept our differences and work together for peace.”

The next morning, having enjoyed the modest and generous hospitality of the village’s guest house, the religious leaders settled in for another day’s lessons (in exactly the same seats they had chosen the day before). For day two, the emphasis was on teaching about the nature of conflict. Religious leaders in Chad are extremely influential; they set the moral ground rules for what is acceptable behaviour in Chadian society, and their advice is taken seriously. If these leaders can better understand the nature of the disputes in their villages and neighbourhoods, they will be better equipped to mediate these situations. To this end, lesson number one went as follows: Conflict is a normal and neutral part of every-day life, and any positive or negative effects arise from the choices that we each make in response to situations of conflict. Boniface Tchingweubé (head of advocacy at EPJ) facilitated an engaging presentation including roll-plays and discussions, but at the end of the day there is only so much that can be taught. Some things need to be learned by doing. At the climax of his talk, Boniface suddenly broke from his energetic style of lecturing and settled into a chair at the front of the room. “You cannot choose what conflicts arrive, but you can always choose how you respond,” he said. “If you want to make peace in your communities, you must change your position.” Then he sat there, looking out at the Muslim/Christian divide in our own seating arrangement… Religious authorities looked at him. He looked at them. “Look at yourselves,” he exclaimed! “There is conflict among you right now!” He paused for dramatic effect, taking on a calm, authoritative tone. “…I’ll wait for you.” Like a soccer mom on the side of the road, refusing to budge until all mischievous little passengers start to behave, Boniface sat in the driver’s seat of the lecture and with a brilliant display of teacherly charisma he waited for the religious authorities of Chad to mix it up. He crossed his legs and settled conspicuously deeper into his chair. The religious authorities looked at each other…

Cautiously, one brave imam rose to his feet and crossed the room.

At this point, whatever force was holding the groups in isolation was broken and the natural laws of chaos took over. In a very literal sense, Christians and Muslims found new positions and new neighbours, creating model for relationships upon which Boniface would elaborate for the remainder of the workshop. In every-day life, in our neighbourhoods and communities, “when the leaders [of different faiths] connect and visit one another, that gives an example for all the others in the community to follow,” he explained. “If we learn to share everything in our lives, we will live together in peace and be true friends.”

Throughout the week, people began to change how they interacted with one another and with me. For example, because of my status as a young woman I was not surprised at the beginning of the week that several devout imams would not shake my hand. I was surprised however, when several days into the workshop these same imams greeted me with a warm and friendly handshake! By the end of the week, we were all eating together, washing our hands in the same sinks, chatting about the day, trading English, French, and Arabic lessons, and sharing lively stories and laughter. And these results were not just limited to the inner courtyard of the village guest house. Several leaders from each confession have called us since the workshop to tell about the meetings they held when they went home. They wasted no time spreading the ideas of acceptance, tolerance, and understanding within their communities.

I could end the blog there. But there’s something a little too perfect about the end of this story. Doesn’t it seem a little odd to be so proud of simple acts such as eating and washing hands together…? If I’m totally honest, sometimes this work is so basic it’s frustrating… why is it even necessary to go to such great lengths just so that people will see one another as worthy of a little respect and acceptance? I wrestled with this question throughout the workshops, and in the end, I don’t know why. But when I see Africa in the news, I know that this work is necessary, urgent even. In current civil wars, in the history of Apartheid, and even in my own N’Djamena neighbourhood it’s clear that the roots of prejudice and mistrust run deep in the generational identity and psyche of peoples who have lived through violent conflict. Reversing this trend is the untold story of African development, the story that takes place when international reporters have gone home, or perhaps before they arrive. It’s the epilogue of war and the prologue to peace.

*This is not exactly a rhetorical question – I would really love to hear your responses! What do you see when Africa is in the news (or any other media)? Please post your comments here or email me at michellemetzger@mcc.org with the subject line “I see Africa.”