Media for social change

Transcript [Quote onscreen] Meditate that this came about: I commend these words to you Carve them in your heart At home, in the street Going to bed, rising: Repeat them to your children -Primo Lévi [Berthe Kayitesi, a young woman of Rwandan descent, speaking in French into a microphone at a conference] But we are here, and yesterday, it was my home. It was Rwanda. And the day before, it was in Germany… it was in Cambodia, and before that, it was in Armenia. Have the Armenians forgotten? No. Have the Jews forgotten? No. I remember the first page of Primo Lévi’s testimony where he says [quote]: “don’t forget, don’t forget where you are.” [Text on the screen] Life stories of Montrealers Displaced by War, Genocide, and Other Human Rights Violations Project Presents [Ven Runnath, an elderly woman of Cambodian descent speaking in French at her home] My name is Ven Runnath. I was born on the 17th of July, 1936. [Text on the screen] As a part of the Montreal Human Rights Film Festival [Carmen Ruiz, a young woman of Columbian descent, speaking in English; the screen shows her dancing] Hello, I’m Carmen Ruiz. I’m originally from Columbia. Um. I was born April 1st, ’79. I’m and April Fool! [laughs] [Text on the screen] A film based on life stories interviews [Berthe Kayitesi speaking in French in her home] My name is Berthe Kayitesi. Originally from Gsenyi in Rwanda. I was born in Gisenyi. [Text on the screen] With: Berthe Kayitesi Elisabeth Pkilibert Carmen Ruiz Ven Runnath [Elizabeth Plilibert, a middle-aged woman of Haitian descent, speaking French in her home] My name is Elizabeth Plilibert. People often call me Bela. I come from Pétionville. I was born March 27, 1948 to a very humble family, to a workman father and a mother, like all Haitian mothers, who took care of her children at home. [Text on the screen, accompanied by photos of the four women] “J’y étais.” “I Was There.” Histoires de femmes en zones de conflit. Stories of Women in Conflict Zones. [Carmen Ruiz, speaking English in her home] At the end on the nineties, ah, Columbia stopped sending minors to—to—Military service, but up to then in was like, every man who finished high school has to go through the process. And so that, you know, a lot of people could end up high school at like sixteen or seventeen in Columbia. So now the people who are, um, you know, over the age, you know the adults, but I guess it’s still very present in those last few years of high school right. Like, the fear that your brother or your boyfriend or the person you are with that they will be sent to the unknown. [Text on the screen] Since the 1960s, Columbia has been struggling with a conflict opposing the government, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia (FARC), and paramilitary groups, killing thousands of civilians. [Carmen Ruiz, speaking English in her home, occasionally the screen shows clips of her dancing on a stage to a backdrop of images of war and conflict] And then, you know, it was a big confrontation going in to university, as I said, you know public university, a lot of political confrontation here and there. And here I am in the middle being concerned, wanting to express, wanting to gain public space for—to be—in a society where not only still restrict in terms of morals, but like also, you know, like especially the nineties the years that I was there, all the like, all the drug traffic and the war of drugs created like a lot of social tension in places where you were supposed to go… [Elizabeth Plilibert, speaking French in her home] I joined the PUDA, the United Party of Democratic Haitians. [Text on the screen] In 1964, François Duvalier banner opposition parties and ruled as ‘President for life.’ A violent repressive politic escalated. [Elizabeth Plilibert, speaking French in her home] It was at a crucial moment in 1967, with the Duvalier government… the situation was really difficult. There was the student strike, the massacres, notably the one of Perpígnan, the one of people from Jérémie, etc. So in 1967, you really had to have courage to join the party. [Berthe Kayitesi speaking in French in her home] I remember that there was such a fear that I ended up not being afraid anymore. [Text on the screen] On December 10th, 1990, the Kangura journal published the “Hutu 10 Commandments,” as an anti-Tutsi hate propaganda text. The machinery of violence was launched and got to its highest point in April 1994. [Berthe Kayitesi speaking in French in her home] The atmosphere began to be filled with tension. And so today, with hindsight, I think that these events were foreshadowing the worst. But at the same time, I didn’t dwell on it. I don’t know if at a certain point one gets used to living in situations like that. [Ven Runnath speaking French in her home] On April 17, 1975, during the Cambodian New year’s holiday… [Text on the screen] On the 17th of April, 1975, the Khmer Rouge marched into Phnom Penh and emptied the city. [Ven Runnath speaking French in her home] Pot Pot threatens to take us out of the house. They told us that is was only for three days, but it didn’t happen that way. It lasted almost three years. [Interviewer asks Ven Runnath] Were you always with your family? [Ven Runnath answers] Yes, with my husband, my children, my brothers and my sisters. All together… 63 people in total. [Interviewer asks Ven Runnath] So 63 people left all together? [Ven Runnath answers] Yes, all together. But coming back, of the 63, there were only 12 survivors. [Text on the screen] I unfold it carefully, I note: April 6th: Assassination of R’s president April 13th: Joseph is fired at, at the fence April 14th: Joseph is finished off. My children are tortured April 15th: My children disappear April 16th: Hilde is assassinated -Notes taken on an empty package of cigarettes by Yolande Mukagasana, a survivor of the genocide of the Tutsi’s in Rwanda [Berthe Kayitesi speaking in French in her home] April 21st, at around 3 or 4 o’clock in the afternoon, I was in the kitchen on the convent when the militiamen arrived. Félicité came running and told everyone to hide. “The genocidairres are here.” I told them I was not Tutsi, the genocidairres took us away. A genocidairre took me from Thomas’ hands—Thomas kicked him. At the same time, a genocidairre was shooting those that were on the ground. There were other people that we had not been able to bring out of the hiding place. Later that evening, the police came to “protect” us. They told us “next time it will be by fire.” They were going to burn us. I started to regret not having died by bullet, in the cemetery. [Elizabeth Plilibert, speaking French in her home] On May 2, 1969, they attacked the Fontmara house, where I was. They came with very heavy weapons. They started to shoot, and I was the first to be hurt. I got a bullet in the shoulder, and I fell. Despite the blood that flowed and my stiff arm, I still went through an interrogation. And afterwards, they put me in a corner. I heard Breton, who was saying [quote]: “Give this woman a bit of water because she must still go to the interrogation.” The same guy who had beaten me came to give me water. He stopped near the door and said to me, whispering [quote]: “ma’am, forgive me. I see that you are pregnant. . . It’s my job; I can’t do anything about it.” [Ven Runnath speaking English in her home] We worked hard. We never satisfied them. [Unclear] So imagine that, in my heart, what they… but for …. [unclear] I demand too much. It’s about the separation… Husband, away. Children, away. We could not know where are they. Could they be alive? Nothing. And I used to talk with the chicken. When I’m alone, I saw the hen with the chicken and I see them and I cry. And I say that now, you are luckier than me… you could be near your—your—kid—your children all the time. For me, I have no right to keep my children near me. So, all the time I want to suicide, but I’m not alone! All my family, all together, because if one of my children still alive, he or they will be slave of the other. And I don’t want my children will be slave of the other. If they still alive, I have to be alive. [Elizabeth Plilibert, speaking French in her home] And I gave birth on August 13th, 1969. [Text on the screen] [quote] “Labour is a natural thing,” they retorted. “If you are in labour, call the matron.” But the matron lived in the village. Five miles away. Pregnant, they had very little regard for me. I was treated like everyone and yet, There were very few women in my situation: Same rations and same work. -Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge: Chronicles of the Conditions Tan Kim Pho Yi, survivor of the Khmer Rouge regime. [Elizabeth Plilibert, speaking French in her home] I spent two or three days at the hospital and it was really hard. It was necessary to have a lot of courage, as a woman. As I was a prisoner and identified as a “communist,” I didn’t have the right to the normal treatment for women giving birth. When the doctor saw that I was ready to give birth, he said [quote]: “I will not give this woman an anaesthetic. She will give birth like that.” The doctor delivered the episiotomy in cold blood (sang froid). That’s not all. When the child came out, they took the child… they told me to get down from the stretcher and to walk to get to my bed. And after, they brought me the child. I spent three days without care, and it was back to prison, because I was still not liberated… that[’s when] the infections started. [Ven Runnath speaking English in her home] And I went to the chief, the house of the chief. [Text on the screen] Ven’s husband, a former soldier, was Considered as an enemy of the Khmer Rouge. As punishment, the family was scattered And Ven found herself alone. [Ven Runnath speaking English in her home] [quote] “I want to know, where is my husband? My dad-in-law? My brother-in-law? My uncle? My—please tell me the truth.” And he made a deep breath, he is a very good man, and he said that, ah [quote]: “Now, don’t wait for them anymore” [Sound of Ven singing in French layered over sounds of her speaking in English] [Ven speaking in English] To sleep, you know, I tried to sing a song in French. [Ven continues speaking in French now] To sooth myself, to master myself, to calm myself. And be able to sleep anywhere. [Last few bars of Ven singing] [sings] “On foam or straw/to find a bed made to my size/Without worry. Bohemian. Sleep/that no remorse awakens.” [Berthe Kayitesi speaking in French in her home, wipes away a tear] I think that a big part of me is still there. I think that I live here physically all while living over there mentally. And even if it is not there in the sense of place, it is over there in terms of experience. All those years spent in Rwanda have made me what I am. Here, I cam as a student, in good conditions compared to all that I had known. It gave me the time to think about what I had experienced over there. The last years spent in Canada are years that have allowed me to reflect. [Carmen Ruiz, speaking English in her home] And I guess that—that’s my people and that’s who I am to, because you know, like I—I—I was saying about being able to face yourself throughout the creative process, and I mean, it’s something that has to happen just thoughout life in general, but like I realise how violent I can be, myself, like, how I can be aggressive, right? And, you know, that’s not something that I want to be so I just try to like work on it every day, all the time. [Screen shows Carmen dancing in front of projected images of war and fighting] [Text on the screen, over the shot of Carmen dancing] Carmen Ruiz dances to counter violence, Juxtaposing conflict with sensuality and sensitivity. Her solo “À la limite” is a response to the war That has devastated her native Columbia And a call to resistance. [Carmen Ruiz, speaking English in her home] But, um, I guess like the whole point is how, as an individual, we can also find there is strength, a space of–um—somewhere positive—positive confidence—and our potential as individuals to sort of overcome that misery, and then become to our creative potential. And the potential that we have as individuals to link within a community. [Berthe Kayitesi speaking in French into a microphone at a conference] It is important that there be recognition. It is important that there be justice. For a victim to be able to come out of her victim status so that she may belong to the world again, and maybe, also open herself up to others. That was my essential message for tonight. [Carmen Ruiz speaking English, screen shows Carmen dancing in front of projected images of war and fighting] I feel that art has the potential to maybe help the idea of it’s ok to break the circle. It’s ok at one point to break that way of doing things in which you see the only road of doing things is revenge, or the only road you see is hate, and then you may be able to just put all of that—express it through something else. To get it out and then understand that there is creative way to be creative and I think of creation, and re-creation, right, so, it doesn’t have to be destruction. It can be creating. So that’s to me a way of how I see it. CREDITS [Music Playing] Edited by Paul Tom