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Women: International<br />
also gave the impression that she didn’t<br />
want to talk and that she needed to stay<br />
silent and be strong to face her<br />
husband’s burial. This was a critical<br />
time for her, a time when she had to<br />
start making decisions regarding this<br />
new and poorer life she had entered.<br />
She was grieved by the loss of her<br />
husband, but she was also terrified of<br />
entering even deeper poverty, something<br />
I learned when I came back later<br />
with an interpreter. She spoke little<br />
but kept saying how different life was<br />
now. She explained to me that she<br />
would only send her son to school and<br />
only to primary school. Her daughter<br />
was going to stay at home, and by not<br />
attending school would, like her, enter<br />
the cycle of poverty.<br />
Burundi is one of the poorest countries<br />
in the world. In any underdeveloped<br />
country with a large peasant<br />
farmer population, the death of a young<br />
able-bodied man means a great loss of<br />
income to his family. Expenditures must<br />
be reduced; the widow either reduces<br />
the amount of food she buys or the<br />
quality she has been trying to maintain.<br />
Sometimes, she decides she will eat<br />
only once a day.<br />
I find the silence of women like this<br />
one expressive of a point of view. Talking<br />
about the tragedy unfolding uses<br />
up much-needed reserves of energy.<br />
The combination of observing, taking<br />
in, and emotionally processing the new<br />
realities of one’s life requires extra<br />
strength and resiliency. These women<br />
will need to dig deep into their internal<br />
reservoir of strength to survive.<br />
For journalists to penetrate this protective<br />
wall of silence requires time<br />
and effort. Yet when these women tell<br />
their stories, they are so very different<br />
than men’s and necessary to hear if we<br />
are to understand the consequences of<br />
war. To speak with men in areas of<br />
conflict is to hear them offer precise<br />
descriptions of what happened—how<br />
many people died, where the war was<br />
fought, a bravado about their men colleagues,<br />
and a strong perception of the<br />
enemy, which is not necessarily accurate.<br />
Although the social and historical<br />
backgrounds are different, I found this<br />
to be a common thread as I reported<br />
on conflict in Bosnia, Burundi, Rwanda<br />
and Nagorno-Karabakh.<br />
Among women living amid conflict,<br />
there is a ruthless practicality. They are<br />
very conscious of the fact that they<br />
don’t have mobility and that at any<br />
time they could become refugees.<br />
Young mothers are burdened both by<br />
the care they give to their children but<br />
also to their elders. Yet their constant<br />
state of readiness is different from the<br />
men’s, who think primarily about fighting<br />
back even if it means losing their<br />
lives. For the women, its about crisis<br />
management and different calculations,<br />
such as thinking about things to be<br />
packed and what is possible to carry if<br />
they have to suddenly leave their homes<br />
for good. It is also their responsibility<br />
to think about how to allocate tasks to<br />
members of the family if the time does<br />
come to leave their home.<br />
I have watched refugees at the border<br />
of Burundi and Rwanda and in<br />
Bosnia, Serbia and Croatia. Perhaps<br />
because of the ways in which they’ve<br />
had to think about all of this and prepare<br />
for it, women cope better with<br />
being a refugee than do men. A Serbian<br />
woman left the Krajina, which is sandwiched<br />
between Bosnia and Croatia.<br />
Along with 250,000 refugees, she<br />
walked into Serbia carrying her family’s<br />
clothes in a hand-embroidered tablecloth.<br />
I admired the light yellow tablecloth<br />
with the exquisite blue and white<br />
flowers strewn around the cloth and<br />
told her so. She smiled sadly and while<br />
stroking it explained that she did it<br />
herself when she first got married. Her<br />
children who were with her were now<br />
teenagers. This tablecloth will become<br />
an important part of her family history.<br />
Her smile said so much; no words were<br />
necessary to know that she and her<br />
family were never going back to the<br />
Krajina. The tablecloth symbolized the<br />
loss of her home and land but connected<br />
her to her past identity in the<br />
Krajina.<br />
What I find most fascinating is how<br />
women have a “psychological map” of<br />
the war that is critical for the survival of<br />
their families in the longer term. This<br />
map offers them a way of seeing the<br />
world in its entirety—in its past and<br />
present and future simultaneously. In<br />
interviews, this idea doesn’t always<br />
emerge as clearly as this, and often to<br />
hear women speak of this can be confusing<br />
to listen to. But there is a strange<br />
human filing system there among their<br />
jumbled emotions. A journalist needs<br />
to go back several times and speak with<br />
other women in this community. Out<br />
of these conversations will emerge similar<br />
themes and reoccurring threads, all<br />
of which will create a story that should<br />
be told.<br />
This psychological map consists of<br />
emotional and psychological happenings<br />
of the family and community,<br />
things that become the cornerstones<br />
of family history and, when brought<br />
together, create a community’s collective<br />
memory. In many countries that<br />
experience war, records are rarely kept<br />
of what actually happened: women’s<br />
collective memories become crucial to<br />
the perception of that country’s history.<br />
Women are also, in many instances,<br />
the instigators of peace. On the island<br />
of Bougainville in Papua New Guinea,<br />
conflict broke out between local landowners<br />
and the mining company and<br />
the government on the other side. After<br />
some years of conflict the women<br />
started to initiate dialogue with the aim<br />
of establishing peace. Finally a peace<br />
agreement, initiated by these women,<br />
was reached. So, too, in Sarajevo when<br />
by the end of 1995 the women had had<br />
enough of the miseries of war. In my<br />
interviews with them, there was already<br />
talk of pushing the men towards<br />
accepting peace. Although what happened<br />
politically was more complicated,<br />
the women’s role as movers of<br />
the peace process cannot be underestimated.<br />
Peace is not a political or ideological<br />
stand for these women, rather it<br />
is seen as a necessity. As one woman<br />
put it to me in Sarajevo, “Peace is a<br />
strategy, so my children can live a normal<br />
live.”<br />
One problem with telling these important<br />
stories is that they are difficult<br />
to tell. They take time and sensitivity to<br />
report and cannot be told in quick<br />
soundbites or written as typical news<br />
stories with a tidy beginning, middle<br />
and end. For example, when a war<br />
ends, and the United Nations and foreign<br />
journalists go home, it is left to<br />
<strong>Nieman</strong> Reports / Winter 2001 83