A HUMAN BEING DIED THAT NIGHT A South African Woman Confronts the Legacy of Apartheid Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela & HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY“I chink that [Jost — its a feeling of loss. Well, the firs thing that goes is innocence, I mean, there's no more fairy tales and Bambi, That is gone. We killed 2 lot of people, they killed some of ours. We fought for nothing, we fought each other basically eventually for nothing. We could have all been alive having a beet, And the politicians? if we could put all politicians in the front lines with their families, and grandpar. ‘ents, and grandchildren — if they are in the front line, don't think we will ever have @ war again. I think it's educated peo. ple, very educated people, who sit in parliament and decide about war. So Iam confused, I am very confused, I am just very tired.” De Kock shook his head, shifted his legs to adjust the position of the chains that bound him to his seat, his eyes, downcast ooking ike somebody reflecting on the geste loss in his life. The Language of Trauma ted terble acts against ocher human beings, a8 I id with Eu- sone de Kock, puts one in a strangely compelling and confus- ing relationship with the perpetrator, Especially when, as is the case with me, my experienee while a member ofthe TRC ‘entered on vietims and placed me in powerfully empathic relationships with them, I became especially concerned with how victims of politically motivated violence live with trau- matic memory, and how this shapes their narratives about events es this focus on victims — on victims’ memory and language of violent trauma, on ehe intimate, fraught relation ship between victim and perpetrator, and on victims’ extraor- inary power to forgive — that I wish to serum to in this chapter. the Traci and Kecunetinacion Comsnissuon was establish: ° qubezemberng 95 after the appointment of seventeen com- missioners by then-president Nelson Mandela.! Archbishop Desmond Tutu was appointed to serve asthe chairman of the ‘Truth Commission. There was probably no one more sulted ooto the role of chairman for the historic process of the TRE than Archbishop Tutu. He is an extraordinary man whose dig. nnity and stature, both in South Africa and internationally. and whose pursuit of peace and justice earned him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984. He carried his role on the TRC with grace both in public and in those moments behind closed doors when suspicion and racial tensions among TRC members emerged, signaling the ever-present struggle with identity polities in a country where for so many years race, more than anything else, determined who a person was. The commission added ten more committee members in 15 10 work with the commissioners, AGERE RII cco pare ofmy wok a achnte pyehoe sist had included providing expert testimony for human rights lawyers who were defending young anti-apartheid sctivists charged with serious erimes. The invitation to join éhe TRC ‘was particularly significant for me because my role as an ex: pert witness had given me an opportunity to see firsthand hhow the hostility of apartheid courts often deprived blacks, both victims and defendants, of a fair hearing. It gave me a _great sense of purpose to be invited to join a process uniquely designed as a forum where vietims could break their silence and face their abusers for the first time. I was privileged to serve as the only trained psychologist on the Human Rights Violations Committee ar the head office of the TRC in Cape ‘Town, and later to be appointed coordinator of the victims’ public hearings process in the Western Cape region, with re- sponsibilities that included community outreach, identifying areas where public hearings could be held, supervision of the statement-taking and hearings processes, and chairing public hearings in the Cape Peninsula and winelands regions, ‘One of the first things did when I joined the TRC in March ‘1096 was to submit a proposal for an outreach program at one + 0+ F cgtne Cope Town office's weekly regional meetings. The fist | jublic earings of the TRC were scheduled to take place a = jponth later in East London. My proposal was for a program. designed to bean informational process ~ nota formal hear ing — that would reach out to all levels of society and ll ra cial groups, The Cape Town office launched the TRC outreach program | nthe Gugulethu Township of Cape Town with the help of Mandist Monakali, director ofa counseling agency for women rictims of domestic abuse, and Miriam Molelek, director of an organization that brings together children and families thom diverse racial backgrounds in the Woreester township, Zwelethemba. Mandisa Monakali also worked with women ‘who had been raped while in detention or by members of po- lisical organizations in conflict with one another. Monakali, her staff, and Miriam Moleleki, who had won several awards for her éedication to rural development, played a crucial role in getting the TRC office started on its initial outreach work inthe black townships around Cape Town. The first outreach mecting we organized was held in asmall ball in Guguletbu Township. The oom was overflowing. The only white people present were TRC members and reporters, some of whom had come to cover the event, and others who sionply wanted to xetur to the place of their troubled days of reporting political violence under stringent apartheid press laws. We had asked Archbishop Tutu to preside over the meet- ing, It was clea from the way people atending the meeting rected Tatu that his leadership ofthe TRC ang his presence, whether actual or symbolic, was going to bea vital part of the ‘commission's work. For people burdened withthe memory of 4 traumatic past, Archbishop Tutu's presence validaced the pin they had suffered, ‘What was most amazing about the meeting in Guguletha‘was the intensity of opposing emotions expressed in the hal ‘There was a spirit of celebration in evidence inthe singing and dancing in which everybody joined, as if bound together in shared expectations for the future and by the freedom thet the TRC process promised ~ the freedom to speak out and to ‘break the years of silence. Atthe same time, many n the aud. ence had both a sense of painful anticipation and a desire make sense of the scale and seope of what hed happened to them and their loved ones. “The people started to speak one by one. But the audience was not a coherent whole, for each member of it had Lived through pain differently. One person after another got up to testify in an ouspouring of emotion: this one about her son, ‘whose death at the hands of the police she lacked appropriate worl to describe and for whom a stream of teats was the only thing that could communicate her deep sorrow; that one about losing his eyesight after a policeman nicknamed "the Rambo of the Western Cape” pointed his firearm dicectly at his eyes and fired; and another about searching for his son, fist at police stations, and then in mortuaries, ineluding the Cape Town government mortuary, where he had to open many drawers holding dead bodies, most of chem bloody, bra- talized, and dismembered, and to step over other bodies in one 90m after another before finding his son ina dirk comer ona shelf packed with corpses, “HEMESIINoRMesswnehanstrEke> «J one couldn't help wondering: i the experience was emotionally heavy for us, the listeners, how much more so snustit be for the people for whom the trauma was embedded In thei identity? { was paralyzed, Ie took me some time to re ‘member that this was meant only as an intial gathering, nota public hearing ofthe TRC. No matter, the vitims were seiz- ing the moment to break the silence irnposed on ther for so THE LANGUAGE OF TRAUMA Jong, as if there were an uncontrollable pressure to tell their = wories. Thecame aware ofthe desperate need for such a process soon aiter appearing on a radio program in which the TRC’s out- each program in the Western Cape was discussed. Thad men- tioned Mandisa Monakali’s agency in Gugulethus Township as ‘one that would help the TRC in gathering statements. As gon as I got home, che telephone rang, It was Monakali here is an elderly lady here in my office who wants to speak to someone from the TRC,” Monakali said. “And Pula,” Monaleali said with some urgency, “you have to come.” Iwas soon oa the freeway to Gugulethu. When I arrived av the agency an clderly woman, Mrs, Elsic Gishi, was sitting ‘on a couch, leaning forward on her walking stick, her eyes fixed on the door. She had walked for about thirty minutes to the ageney, accompanied by a young boy, a teenager from her neighborhood. She rushed through the greetings and started to tell her story, Mrs. Gishi began with her arrival in Cape ‘Town with her husband as @ young bride, then told of her work as a domestic in different homes in the white suburbs of Cape Town, her hardworking husband, the joy of raising their children, their schooling, and finally the events of that fatal ‘Christmas Eve in 1976 when her husband was killed, Ta the months following the events of June 16, 1976, when. the police massacred more than five hundred people in So- ‘weto, violence had flared up in many black townships. The government stepped up sts repressive measures, leading t0 thousands of deaths. By the end of the year, many families and communities had heen affected by the state's violence, and Christmas that year was declared 2 "Black Christmas.” It ‘was the events of the Black Christmas in the Cape Towntownship of Nyanga Eas andthe informal setlement refered to as KTC that Mrs, Gishi described, using images of her neighborhood as a war zone: army trucks roaming the streets, sunfire reverberating menacingly throughout the township, black men who were police collaborators carrying homemade ‘weapons and charging from house to house, looking for male members ofthe households ike hunters cornering their prey Mrs, Gishi deseribed her state of panic on a day she recalled as “bright, with aclear sky," as she roamed the strets looking for her children in the midst of wild firing, She was finally forced toflee the streets but was hit by bullets in ber back just as she entered her neighbor's house, Injured, frightened, and ‘helpless, she landed in the hospital, where she was chained to her bed and placed under police guard, as was common prac. tice with many victims shot by the police in incidents of apo- litical nature? While inthe hospital she was told by neighbors that her husband had been found dead in their home, his head slashed open, exposing his brain. Mrs. Gishi came home from the hospital to find that she had suffered a double loss. Her son had gone mad: “One of my neighbors told me that my son ‘asin the same van in which my husband was taken to hospi- tal, What my neighbor described to me broke my heart com. pletely. My son — my son Bonisile insisted on accompanying the wounded to the hospital. So he was in che back of the van and saw his father in the worst and most unspeakable state of death any child should see. I was told that he repeatedly asked his dead father, Tata, Tata (Daddy, do you see me, do ‘you see me? Please say yes to me.’ He was crying and shaking iy husband, On my return from the hospital [found my son's bloodied clothes from throwing himself all over my husbanc!’s body... .[Slince then my son has not heen his normal self.” It was hard not to be drawn into her story. I saw this little boy’s agony, his tears of anguish and utter hopelessness as he ome BE ed ino the unsoing eyes of death, knowing but not know ing ~ "Tate, please say yes tome” — that his father wouldn't ~ peable to speak co him again. My thoughts came back to this seventy-two-yearold ‘woman seated before me, the indelible mark let by the tra netic event returning like a flash when she heard about the ‘TRC over the radio, twenty years after her trauma, recalling he event with overwhelming urgency. Her story seemed to present the sense of before and alter so vividly, the shift from one moment to the next that changes cverything: «normal and bappy life interrupted by the events of chat Black Christmas of 1976; 2 bright day and a clear blue sky rained by rampant slaughter, her son, one moment a happy, normal child, the next a boy who has lost his sanity ‘There was something bizarre about the images she presented, someting hordering on the obscene — something beyond ‘words. She described what had happened to her husband end ‘what her son bad seen as “mast unspeakable state of death." “sim otner worus, st was sumpty uidescribat | Sae nad no reter she was do- ing what many q@igtimssansiesmevivorsofstranmasiarestion, hues lathe ‘And here lies che paradox. gUMgURBENEOMORRUNiCRNDS. A¢ he Se i, ATS | was experienced nrting our partierpation am the act of 1 1. We cannot fully understand what vietims went Tee e i eemreemmnaramee ‘cannotebemiequasshmenpiedsinawenss So what function ddoes a vietim’s testimony serve if i only creates a gulf he tween language and experience? Is its function to force us to sce the real story ofa violent political past? Is its aim todl- rectus to the real story behind traumatic memory, which is sasembeded in the emotional sears carried by thousands af ‘omsand survivors who rellect daily on the destruction visit ‘upon their lives by a brutal political systemt Ic is «story thar ‘will ways be true forthe viet, ir che victim is exposed ‘che amages of the trauma through memory. The “tacts” of ‘he traumatic experience are written on the victim's bol: ‘When the rupture of one's senses isa daily occurrence, asin ‘South Africa's violent political psst, Qdamemeniessusenvrith ‘aewoms. The narratives of trauma told by victims and sarvi. ‘vors are not simply about facts, They are primarily about the cgi meget eettmaaieneegennipsoeatberpaciae continuities erested by the violence 1m therr lives. E52 1519 ‘closure The lived experience of traumatic memory becomes 4 touchstone for reality and it tells us “Traumatic memory renders the account of past events un- reliable, or so the argument goes. Primo Levi tells us that “(human memory is a marvelous but deceptive tool.”” What lies in our memory is not engraved in stone but fades away with time, shifts or swells. This argument bas led meny to ‘question victims’ stories and to claim that what is remem- ‘ered amounts to fragments of fact, etewomstauetionsoepast etentomandsailedonsioontmntnerlenellsumab. Some argue that the memory of traumatic events necessarily involves forget- ‘ing While these claims are not unfounded, they implicitly suggest that remem exe UHSECS TENS NAETN STEEP. ‘un bENBVEBEN. Bur do factual accounts of traumatic events ‘ell us how VICERISMEMEivEd End come (AEONONEMEUIEED As we on the commission listened to the accounts of victims and survivors who appeared before. tus over hous, days, weeks, and months, their narratives = a6 prought into focus the painful, daily invasion of traumatic | pemory in their lives. Ie seemed that rather than a recon- suraction of their traumatic past, what victims and survivors, fought to the public hearings of the TRC was ER ‘Could the reason for Mrs. | Gishi’s urgency co tell her story be the indelible presence of ‘and heart and remain an indelible image of what the victim, the trauma she had suffered twenty years before? ‘Not all victims experienced the same sense of urgency that © yrs. Gishi’s story illustrates. Some believed that they had laid theictromna to rest, and were afraid that if they spoke out aout it, they would be opening up a torrent of emotions that they would not be able to control. But even when victims seemed to reel from the TRC process, when they told their ries they did so with the same level of intensity as other tictims who approached the TRC with a feeling of urgency. Tam reminded of a woman, Mrs, Psatic, whose cleven- year-old son was killed by the police in Queenstown in the township of Mlungisi in 1986. Mrs. Plaatjie bad walked out during a TRC outreach meeting that had onganized with the head of the Investigative Unit of the TRC, Dumisa Ntsebeza. [Nisebeza was addressing the audience when I noticed ‘woman sitting defiantly with her back tothe stage. Iimmedi- ately understood the hod language and went to speak to her. ‘As Twas approaching, she turned away fom me, gt up from ber seat, and started to walk out. I followed hes, and T could hear her speaking, at first softly as if to herself, and then di- rectly to me: “Why did you come here? Why did you come here?” Some inthe audience tamed to look as I followed her out. When we got outside, she began to cry, and continued tearfully: "Have you come here to hurt us? Just tell me, have you come here to open our sears!” She continued to speak through a mixture of teats and anger. The TRC was “a point- less exercise,” she said. She had forgotten her pain, she told sareme, and hax! “put grass over the past," using a Xhosa expres sion, the main language of the Eastern and Western Cape “And now you want ws to remember? Ts this going to being back my son?” irs, Plante asked tearfully. We sat under a tre, and I noted her quiet pain as she wiped hherface and tried co regain her composure, [was lost for words, and felt helpless with guile for the hurt that our outreach pres entation had evoked. [offered to take her home, and as we rove to her house, [felt like a messenger who travels around villages bringing bad news, breaking people's hearts, without staying to pick up the pieces. ‘Mrs, Plaatjic invited me into her modest two-room home — in the front room two chairs, a table, and a cupboard, and in the other, smaller room a twin bed. She pointed me to achsie and sat in another one facing the only window in the room, her eyes contemplative but sorrowlul as the afternoon sun shone on her face. Then she began to tell her story, "My son was eleven. He came home during school break at ten o'clock. I was sitting right there where you ate sitting, just sitting exactly where you are sitting in that chair. He ‘walked in dressed in his school uniform and went to the cup- board over there and cut himself a slice of bread. He is doing all of this in a rush. He ig like that when he comes home during break. He spread peanut butter on it and then put the rest of the bread back, leaving the crumbs all over the cup- board, and the knife, still smudged with peanut butter. He ran out. He is still chewing his bread and holding it in his, ‘hand. It wasn’t long — I heard shots outside. Some commo- tion and shouts, Then I'm hearing, ‘uThemba, wThemba, naak’'uThemba bamdubulet [This is Themba, They have shot ‘Themba!)' and then someone calling out for me: ‘mama KaThemba! [Themba’s mother!) 1 went flying out of this house. Now am dazed. Iran, not thinking. My eyes are on the + aes gows that has gathered, Heres my son, my only child Ie was | fast blood all over. My anguish was beyond anything I ever | fhought could experience. They have finished him. I threw - fayself down. I can feel the wetness of his blood — I felt his « fpscbreath leave him. He was my only child” The event seemed sa vivid to me that it was as if it were jappening in the moment. Her use of tense defied the rules of igammar as she erossed and reerossed the boundaries of past nd present in an ilustration of the timelesenessof traumatic juin, which Lawrence Langer has called *darational time’ ‘he an out. He is sill chewing is bread... Now am dazed trap...” And the final moment when she recalled seeing her son's lifeless body: “Here is my son.” With a gesture of her fhand she transformed the tragic scene from one that happened ‘more than ten years earlier to one that we were witnessing fie there on the floor of ber front room ‘Mis, Plaatiie spoke of a-world where helpless parents sieved because they couldn't protect their children inside or outside the horse but could only cover up the memory oftheir grief and hope that someday grass would grow over it. For one brief moment ona sunny afternoon, she had brushed the grass buck to let me see those deepest memories and the shards of pain that lay beneath. The pieces of that fateful day were still shattered, like broken china that cannot he put back to ether, The indelible smages of her traumatized memory — the erumbs on top of the cupboard, the kaile still smudged with uneaten peanut butter, the chair positioned exactly there = all these items had in hee mind hecome symbols of her lit le Thembs's final act at home, the lase things he touched that ‘were not covered in bload, that could he recovered as symbols ‘ofthe objects that form the dsily aesthetics of life. Even the ‘image of the crumbs was treasured as a sacred memory. ‘Mrs, Plaaje’s memory of that day is recalled and repre. sasented by broken pieces, symbolizing the broken body of he son and er own broken dreams forhisife. Ina sense, the cup. hoard, the bread, the peanot butter, the knife are all crumiy, pieces that no Tonger fit together into a coherent whole o ie story. But she nevertheless covets these crumbs ad pieces cate che are the only chines in her memory ofthat ay thar are not spattered in blood. Words from T. S, Ehoe's famous poein "The Waste Land” come to mind: “These fragments 1 hhawe shored agninst my rain.” The image is ofa broken per son trying helplessly, not altogether with success, to recover some sense of coherence in an inner world that has become broken, a world where the ever-present teaum refs tobe silenced, tobe buried der the grass, ‘As I sat through many public hearings of the TRC, in my role as panelist or as chaiz of the proceedings, I was struck by this idea of trauma as presence, trauma as lived memory’ So real were the images presented by witnesses that one was sucked in by the power of the relived experiences they re- counted. The testimony of Yvonne Khutwane comes to mind, ‘An anti-apartheid activist from Zwelethemba, the township sn Worcester, she came to testify about her harassment by the police in r986, She was arrested and thrown into the back of an army truck, where she found herself surrounded by young soldiers in camouflage uniform. She described her ordeal in- side this lion's den: "One of che soldiers lifted my dress. Ashe reached for my panty, [became frightened, not knowing what dhe was going to do. He pushed his hand into my vagina. Thad a mixture of emotions, but one that I remember clearly was 3 {eeling of embarrassment, hecause his age — he was the same age as my children.” "The image of a young white man violating such deeply per sonal boundaries evoked in a flash my own memory and feat + 90 8 |jnamear-rape experience more than twenty years before when “Twas # student at Fort Hare University. 1 was hitchhiking jrom Queenstown when a gray Mercedes-Benz with Port Biz seth number plates driven by a pleasant-looking, wel: "yess, middle-aged white man pulled up to give me aside for © what [thought would be the last leg of my trip to Cala, my hometown, since the man said he was going to lio. After a silly interesting and innocuous conversation about univer- sity lle — he had been at Rhodes University some years he- {ore — the man asked, "Do you want to go to Paradise with tne!” “Paradise!” Tagked, genuinely unaware of the sinister meaning behind che word, until he reached out and laid his hand oa my hip, making my whole body turn with revulsion. {twas wearing the only pair of jeans I owned, and since then T fave never worn jeans again.| His smile, which had seemed so iiendly, urned into a monstrous sneer as he steered his car in the direction ofa small forest concealing part ofa lake just outside Queenstown, The car slowed down to negotiate the change of road surface, and on the spur of the moment 1 pened the passenger door and jumped out, rolling onto the gravel road. Shocked and terrified, ran as fast as 1 could, not looking hack. As [listened to Mas, Khutwane telling her story before a public audience ofthe TRC and to me as facilitator of her tes tumony, my heart started to beat violently. Limagined the de- tour in my nightmare ride andl reexperienced my ovn trauma in that near-tragedy. Then I pictured her in the back of the anny truck, herbody being violated by a white soldier in cam- ‘uflage uniform, and I feel every detail of her trauma ae iis something that has happened to me: the intrusive hand of the young soldier, the shame of helplessness, and the humiliation all seem like a painful stab deep inside. “The feeling was so intense thet I choked with tears. A fel soelow commnittee member nest to me on the stage eached ouy to stroke my back to comfort me. The gesture Brough me hack to my senses, so to speak. I had to regain my compo. sure, How could Ifllll my role on eke TRC i allowed my. self tobe affected by victims’ testimonies? Forcing mysel return tothe role of facilitator, I repeated something that Mt, hutwane had said earlier i her testimony, more ike talking to myself in order to understand the full implication of the soldier’ teribly wounding act than as a way (© help Mrs Khutwane tell her story: "The soldier could have been your child." ‘There were many other stories recounted on the TRC pub lic stage that were rea in a very personal way. Mr. Maikheya ‘Mkabile, who is from Cala, the same small cown where { grew up, was imprisoned on Robben Island, the Aleatraz of South Africa, where Nelson Mandela served most of his life sentence. Bofor his imprisonment, Mr. Mksbile lost his hear- ing through, and bears the sears of, the torture he sutezed at the hands of the head of BOSS [Bureau of State Security), Heendrik Van den Bergh, and the two infamous warders of Robben Island, the Kleynbans brothers. Mr. Mkabile commu- aicated only by lp-reading, and as facilitator of his testimony 1 sat next to him, He described his torcure by the Kleynhans brothers. Mr. Mlkabile and other prisoners were working in the Robben Island lime quarry, where Nelson Mandela in jured his eyes. The brothers spotted him helping one of his comrades who had blisters oa his hands. They made him diga shallow grave and forced him co lc in it. Then they covered his body with sand up to the neck. Then Peter Kleynhans opened his fly and urinated into Mr. Mleabile's nose. Asif sensing that the audience didn’t helieve him, sensing what Lawrence Langer has called "the vast imaginative space” sep aating what he had endured from the audience's capacity + 2» “jo absorb it Mi. Mkabile said, “Let me show you." Now he. fess standing, facing the audience and the commissioners, conde a gesture demonstrating someone opening his fly | aod pointing aa imaginary penis in the at. He descbed _usn how Peter Kleynhans had urinated in his nose, “Be- ~ gause I couldn't breathe, T opened my mouth” — he opened fis mouth, still standing — “and swallowed his urine while | freathing through the mouth.”"! Mkabile then sat down and, in response to a question I asked, pointed out one hy one each of the physical sears of his | torture, identifying each sear with the name of the torturer, ‘an den Bergh! Peter Xleynbans! The impotent rage written «bis ace ashe called out the names of his former torturers brought back childhood memories of my father’s impotent an- ger whenever we were stopped and searched by a young white policeman on one of our annual family trips from Cape Town tomy father’s parents’ home inthe Eastern Cape. These mem- avies, and other personal experiences of humiliation simply because of my skin color, which Ihag hardly dealt with in my Lf, had vo be suppressed to enable me todo the work Iwas as signed on the TRC. Ihad developed a strategy for doing this. As victims gave their testimonies in Xhoss, I tied to capture the heart of the moment by elaborating on my own English translation of eheir statements. 1 was documenting my wit ness to the historical moment when vietims broke their si- lence at last. The writing distanced me from having tofeel the pain of those who came to tell their stares to the commis- sion, sf this would keep my own feelings at bay. ‘At the end of the Worcester hearings, Mrs. Khutwane had looked for me to tell me how healing she had found my show of emotion during her testimony. “felt you were connecting with my pain ata deep level, and that someone understood ‘what I went through,” she explained 3Being on the commission reopened for me the multiple meanings of a childhood, a student's life, end a professional life under apartheid Sonth Afcica. I was not «neutral Listener fon the commission, « "blank sereen.”® This was true for ‘many of us on the commission, It was something We had tg be aware of in order to exercise reasonable judgment in the process of making our findings about the cases that were presented to the Human Rights Violations Commitice,*"The commission emphasized evenhandedness. Aay demonste tion of emotion was interpreted as proof of bias." Dealing | with vietims’ traumatic memories that evoked one’s own ‘memory of the past without letting go of one’s emotions was, no easy feat. Asa result, many of us who served on the TRC ~ those who took statements from victims, the briefers, the ‘commissioners, the investigators, and the interpreters — eon ‘tinue to struggle with closure, in part because we had to deny ‘our own emotions in order to contain the pain of the victims ‘who appeared before us. Thave mentioned another extraordinary encounter with vie~ tims of atrocity. { am. thinking of the meeting between de Kock and the widows of the two policemen murdered in the ‘Motherwell bombing, Pearl Faku responded to de Kock’s apol- ogy with the fullness of her humanity, saying: “I hope that when he sees our tears, he knows that they are not only tears for our husbands, bus tears for him as well... I would like to ‘bold him by the hand, and show him that there is a future, and that he can still change.” Her statement of forgiveness was profound, As an invitation to de Kock to turn the page, to ‘come onto the path toward the road of peace, it had no equal that I was aware of on the TRC, nor was [aware of any such, gestures made by victims in the history of atrocities in the ‘twentieth century. Her response surpasses much of what we Coe | qnisers ask forgiveness. I is hard to resist the conclusion = at there must be something divine about forgiveness ex- sed in the context of tragedy. How else can we understand "few ouch words can flow from the lips of one wronged so _reparably? Archbishop Tutu, whenever we were witnesses ‘9 such inexplicable human responses at a public hearing of © the TRC, would be driven to call for silence “because we are = qntioly ground.” There seems tobe something spiritual, even sacramental, about forgiveness ~ a sign that moves and touches those who are witnesses to its enactment ‘Wemight ask, what does Pearl Faku forgive de Kock for? For | fringing about the death of her husband? For crossing the threshold of morality and allowing his evil to prevail and to ‘contemplate, plan, and commit such a deed? In offering de Kock hee forgiveness, did she mean to say, “I forgive you for being so maticious, so perverted, so indeseribably wicked as to bave committed this abhorrent act that has robbed my chil- dren ofa father and robbed me of a husband”? ‘doubt that when forgiveness is offered, the gaze is cast on the specifies of the deed, Forgiveness, while not disregarding the act, begins not with i¢ but with the person. Forgiveness recognizes the deed, its impact having been and continuing. o be lived by the victim, but transcends it, People who come to the point of forgiveness have lived not only with the pain that trauma and loss bring, but also with the anger and resentment at those who caused the pain, That is their reality — a world of painful emotional wounds, hostility, and resentment atthe injustice visived upon them. All these emotions connect them to their loved ones and so ate a force that provides continuity and defies death, sustaining their bonds with those they loved ‘who are now dead. The hateful emotions therefore reease the lost loved one as the iving dead ~ “living,” through the link 25stions also tie the individual to the one who inflicted the tray. ‘matic wounds. in fact, the hateful emotions may sometimes take on a life of their own, exerting considerable power over she victim, ‘The presence of resentfal emotions does not necessarily ‘mean that che person is willfully “holding on" to hatred. The victim is holding on to what seems to be the only connection 10 the one who is no longer present. This happens, in part, un. consciously. It is simply that the person who has suffered ‘gross violations of human rights has lived with resentment +90 long to be able to let go of i easily. At the same time, such ‘emotions area burden that prevent the victim from fully com: ing to terms with the trauma and moving on. In this sense, these emotions may be seen as serving contradictory fune- tions: asa connection with the loved one, they are symbolicof continuity, asa symbol ofthe perpetrator’s powerful guip over the victim, they area burden that hangs over che victim and at ‘once creates a dependency on the hateful emotions and denies the vietim a chance to come to terms with what happened. ‘Nyameka Goniwe, whose husband, Matthew Goniwe, was cone of the anti-apartheid leaders brutally killed by the Easter Cape security police, expressed disappointment at the lack of ‘truth in a hearing investigating her husband's killers, “I.can’t forgive and forget, or go on with my life until [know the ac- ‘tual killers,” she said. Speaking on behalf of the other widows, she continued: “We cannot close this chapter yet. Our lives have been involved in this case for years, I don't know how it feels tobe without it." Do the emotions associated with the trauma become part of the identity of the one who has suffered loss? Traumatic expe- rience ruptures a part of the victim’s identity. It violates the boundaries that protect the definition of self, leaving the indi- +6 + © doa stripped of many of he things that bestow respect, dig | ity, and selfworth, Anger and wesentment become the only “personal “possessions chat the individual now has in place of © fhe loved one. The emotions stand in the place of what was st, and become an important part of the traumatized per gn’ identity. Letting go of these emotions, if there is nothing "ew in the victim’ life to strengthen her or him, makes the _ictim fee] exposed and vulnerable again, ‘When forgiveness is granted, however, itis a choice the vic- tim makes to let go of the bitterness. ‘This usually occurs | when there has been a change in the way the victim relates to hus or er trauma. Forgiveness isnot simply meant to relieve " vitimizers of their guilt, to make things easy for chem. Such ap interpretation makes forgiveness a further burden for vie tims, Forgiveness can also open up anew path toward healing for che victim. As Doreen Mgoduka said about granting de ‘Kock forgiveness, "Now | can mourn properly because this hus helped me retrace his her husband's] steps in life in onder tolet him goin death,” De Kock, forthe policemen’s widows, ‘had "brought us the truth,” which allowed them somehow to seconnect with theic husbands Victims themselves sometimes seem to be looking foe an ops portunity to forgive, cease they sce this a= something tht canning an end toa lito hatred which Hes thet soinext- cablpiterehe perpettater. One simply has to guard against pre- scribing forgiveness, for to do so cheapens the process. That, fins step taken, even to consider meeting a person responsible for terrible wrongs, is the victim's to take, WHERIORRIVERESs: as granted, 1¢ 1s probably because of the meaning the victim at- ‘abhesntosthememetaterapology. In a conversation | had with Nyameka Gontwe, asked her to explain when, from a Vietim's perspective, isthe moment to grant forgiveness £0 a =operpetrator who seeks it. “Wietimssarelookingfonsignsy/sshe -cephed," a __e ‘While itis senseless to make generalizations about forgive. ness, there are nevertheless important insights that can be | sleaned from the examples that made the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission so extraordinary. One reason ‘why it is difficule to generalize about forgiveness is that G6 ‘alltheswitnesses who came to the commission were willing | Sven conse forgiveness napa. By cota thee rere eters wo fermlsted statements o ovens te Troon there was an oppor fo meet those whoa Brows hrm misery ant sin, ven Refers thee was Bn ican ofan apology on he pst of he perpetston™ ormvencs tually begin wth the Pesan who neds tobe forgiven. This means that thee must be vomethingin che pet Petit’ behavior ome "ig" that invite the vit fo vencsy The material ig ean exzeson Of Tm8 ‘One bein o appreciate the magnitdeof forgiveness when the" ‘There no compurson between srs and daly pec that occur beeen pre, fly embers, and cfleapsn Bu even soctes cil oan splogy tat ences se tumbeed by explanation or ustleton, A sincere apology Ses net diver atenton from he sel, auch a tose seam panied by a diclaimer "Vin sorry that your iter was le Pets understand hot wa lighting to end the oppression of mp people" Or" apolgieBut what id happened Beene ofthe politi climare ohare days ‘genuine apclogy focuses on he fclings of the ober rete than on ew the one whois apeoing sng 0 es chitin teen sees to aknowlede fl esponsibility fx mact, and does not use self-serving language to justify the he: __ navior of the person asking forgiveness. Ie must communi cate, convey, and perform as a "speech act” that expresses a "deste to right the relationship damaged through the actions the apologizer.” A sincere apology does not seek to erase "what was done, No amount of words can undo past wrongs. ‘Nothing can ever reverse injustices committed against other. juan apology pronounced in the context of hornble acts has the potential for uansformation. It clears of "settles" the at in order to begin reconstructing the broken connections be- ‘een bo human beings.» | Tobe able to "perform," an apology has to name the deed, acknowledge wrongdoing, and recognize the pain of the vic. tim, Such an apology conveys a sense of regret and deeply felt remorse. “Saying it makes it 30.” A remorseful apology in spires empathy and forgiveness. The words of Pearl Faku ine: sponse to de Kock’s apology illustrate this deeply felt empathy for one who has done infinitely ireparable damage: "I hope that when he sees our tears, he knows that they aze not only tears for our husbands, but tears For him as wel.” Dori Laub illustrates the impostance and power of that ext ical empathic connection between former enemies in his se- count ofa survivor of the Holocaust who witnessed some of the worst atrocities during the war and lost many members sf her family. At the end of the war, she participated in the hnonting down and killing of Nazi collaborators. But when a German youth was captured and brought to her forher to take revenge on him, she ended up eating for him, cleaning and covering his wounds before handing him over a a POW, ‘When asked why she had helped him she replied, "How could Ul him — he looked into my face and I looked into his. Responding with empathy to one who has caused us pain falls 99 +into the category of behavior that Thave defined as the “pata. dox of remorse.” Empathy isa response to anothee person's pain, even in the midst of tragedy, pain cannot be evil it may be that perpetrators, by receiving the forgiveness ‘they want, also regain some of the control they are used to, particularly contro! over the victim. In other words, forgive ‘ness may indirectly bestow power back on the perpetrator in. stead of empowering the victim and restoring some of the power she or he lost during the moment of trauma. Its poss ble that the encounter favors the perpetrator, who, because ‘the victim is still struggling with asserting herself or himself anid her or his rights, has the advantage as e person used to be {ng in control and s0 is able to define the agenda even while asking forgiveness. The forgiveness then reawakens the vic- ‘inns feelings of powerlessness instead of becoming a vehicle forshifting the power dynamic. The erosion of a sense of indi- vidual rights and ofthe ability to make a claim on these rights may run very deep in some victims. Fowerlessess is the aifliction of the traumatized, to paraphrase Judith Herman™ Sosome victims, not used to claiming their rights, may not be able to express rage against the perpetrator even when the pee petrator no longer poses areal danger. ‘When gestures of forgiveness are enacted from a position of weakness rather than one of strength, bow should we assess the encounter between victim and vietimizer? Irhas been sug. gested that a victim’s response of hatred and resentment is necessary prior condition for an expression of forgiveness, and that people who show na resentment for the injustices done to them lack self-respect. But this is to judge victims, ‘who may have little or no control over their own sense of disempowerment and helplessness, too harshly. They may be acting out what they have internalized throughoue the years shen they were denied rights and privileges, People who have "heen marginalized by an oppressive system may know noth- + ing other than to shrink in the presence of those who embody _- power. Saying that they lack self-espect in not being able to | ‘stand up” to their former oppressors, who continue shame- “jel to flaunt their power, fails to recognize the lacy of op- © pressive systems and just how much damage they leave he und in the lives of those who have suffered years of abuse ’A dassic illustration of a gesture of forgiveness expressed | fgoma positon of weakmess comes from che TRC public heat: + ing that investigated the role of Winnie Madikizela-Mandels, ‘the former wife of Nelson Mandela, and the Mandela Football {Cub in the tortare ané murder of young blac activist inthe Joanneshurg township of Soweto — what came tobe known as “the Winnie Hearing,” The public focus on the activities of the Mandela Football Club began in January 1985, ater the body of one of the youths, Stompic Seipei, was found in the outskirts of Soweto, infested with maggots, The investigation Ted the police o the activites of the Mandela Football Club Ina subsequent court hearing, evidence was give linking the killing of Seip to events that had taken place inthe home of ‘Winnie Madikizela-Mandela. ‘Nine years after Stompie Seipets body was discovered, Madikizela-Mandela, once the embodiment of sulfeting, re sistance, survival, and all the images associated with the fight ‘aguinst apartheid, was questioned asa perpettatoron the stage ofthe TRC. Once a fearless spokesperson for trath, she had become the bearer of seerets from the past, Once loved a “the Mother of the Nation,” Madikizela-Mandela was carcatured by cartoonists as an evil yoman with blood on her hands, This was one ofthe saddest stories inthe history ofthe antiapart heidresintance.Attheend of the public hearing, during which storeMadikizela-Mandela essentially denied any knowledge of ‘what had been happening in her own backyard, and offered no ‘meaningful apology, she approached Stompie Seipei's mother while the TV cameras rolled. With a eciumphant smile and ‘open arms, she embraced her. I watched the moment of con- tact between the two women: the mother’s humble smile and return of the gesture, and Madikizela-Mandele’s triumphant smile, enacting her imposing power through her embrace. ‘Two smiles: one a symbol of power, and the other a symbol of impotence ‘Stompie Scipei’s hereaved mother had sat for nine days at the public hearing of the TRC looking silence in the face as ‘Madikizela-Mandela revealed nothing, ending where she had started, with more silence, Yet she opened her arms to receive the embrace of this woman who was prepared to offer nothing ‘beyond flat denial. Te was an embrace that stripped the victim ‘of what we call dignity, the reverse of what the TRC public hearings were meant todo “The mistake is to see the politial as separate from the per sonal — to see discontinuities between them. In dealing with the past, the narratives that people construct about what hap- ‘pened to them, the stories of their suffering, reflect the conti- ‘nuities between their personal and their political lives. The ‘stories are about what they have experienced and continue to ‘experience in a society in which the promised changes are not ‘yet a reality for them. Therefore, some of the vietims who en- counter perpetrators cannot make that psychological leap and secognize that the tables have turned, that now the power is theirs co demand what is rightfully due them. For those who have been privileged all ther lives and have no problem demanding their rights, forgiveness may be seen as giving up their rights. By showing forgiveness, they may feel that they are relinquishing that infallibility, that superior + 102 + stance that allows them to continue to punish the wrongdoer | with their anger. Often this is accompanied by feelings of self righteousness, which unfortunately cannot be relied on to plomote reconciliation and transformation, Kronically, some ‘ofthe feelings associated with powerlessness, such as humil- ity, are more likely to foster an attieude of forgiveness than are antieudes chat equate forgiveness with 2 loss of power. South Africans face the challenge of how to embrace the past without being swallowed by the tide of vengeful think ing. The Truth and Reconeiliaion Commission was a steategy not only for breaking the cycle of politically motivated vio- lence but also for teaching important lessons about how the hhuman spisit can prevail even as victims remember the eru- elty visited upon them in the past, If memory is kept alive in onder to culkivate old hatreds and resentments i is likely to culminate in vengeance, and ina repetition of violence. But if memory is kept alive in order to transcend hateful emations, then remembering can be healing. “There are many people who find i hard to embrace the idea of forgiveness. And itis easy to see why. In onder to maintain some sort of moral compass, co hold on ta some sort of cleat distinction between what is depraved but conceivable and whats simply off the scale of human acceptability, we feel an inward emotional and mental pressure not to forgive, since forgiveness can signal acceptability, and acceptability signals some amount, however small, of condoning, There is # desire to dravea line and say, “Where you have been, I cannot follow ‘you. Your actions can never be regarded as pact of what it means to be human.” Yet not to forgive means closing the ‘oor to the possibility of transformation, + 103